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Episode Three
The Junk That Dreams Are Made Of

Written By Sue

Opening Scene:  A long shot of a Hollywood back lot late at night.  An alleyway is flanked by a huge Quonset shaped building on one side and single wide trailers and motor homes on the other.   It is dark and still, one street light in the parking lot beyond providing the only light with which to see.  

We zero in on a woman exiting a large luxury motor home.  She begins walking slowly down the alleyway towards her car, holding a script in her arms.  A close up of her face reveals more than the few lines upon what was once flawless skin.  Her expression is grave, disconnected, probably depressed.  

As she is making her way, she turns around suddenly; apparently frightened by something she has seen or heard.  She starts stepping carefully but rapidly, looking over her shoulder every few seconds. She loses her footing and stumbles.  She lets out a small cry and pulls herself up, fleeing now.  It is not clear what she is running from.  As she gets to her car, she fumbles for her keys in a purse she has slung over her shoulder.  She drops her keys, bends to pick them up and loses her script and her purse.  Exasperated, she turns around in the direction she has been looking and screams:

“Who are you?”


“What do you want?”


Now she’s close to hysterics.

“Why are you doing this?”

We close in on her frightened face.   She looks down as something rolls along the ground to her feet.  A gold lipstick tube bumps against her shoe.  Her eyes widen, her hand comes up to her mouth and she faints.

Cut to:
The following morning, Maddie’s dressing area. She sits in a white terrycloth robe, putting on lipstick, a task she has performed by rote so many times in her life it’s no wonder she looks like she’s sleepwalking. She stops what she’s doing, yawns, puts down her lipstick and looks at herself long and hard in the mirror.  Her puffy eyes and the deep circles under them are a sure giveaway that she hasn’t been sleeping well.  Shouldn’t she be feeling like her old self by now?  It’s been almost two weeks since her surgery; she has done everything Dr. Weed said she should.  And in the few days she’s been back to work she’s been allowed to do very little in the way of actual work, being told all there is to do is push papers around on her desk.  How can she possibly be tired?

She hears pots and pans crashing downstairs; she purses her lips.  She knows who is responsible for the conspiracy at the office.  And she knows that as long as she looks as wan and tired as she does now, nothing is going to change.  She sighs, reaches for her hairbrush and begins brushing her hair.  Thank goodness she decided to change it to a more casual style with her energy level on empty these days.

She yawns again and stretches her neck back and forth to get rid of some kinks.  She continues to gaze at her weary expression in the mirror for a moment, then we can almost see her old determination percolating to the surface.  Oh come on, this isn’t like you at all, she thinks.  She tells herself in her mirror, “Enough of this Maddie!”

She gets up, stretches and goes to her closet, begins humming to the song that has just started quietly wafting in the background.

Life is a moment in space
When the dream is gone     
It’s a lonelier place        
        (more crashing pans in the kitchen, Maddie flinches)
I kiss the morning goodbye
But down inside you know we never know why

The road is narrow and long
When eyes meet eyes           
(someone whistling downstairs, she smiles)
And the feeling is strong    
I turn away from the wall
I stumble and fall                   
(the sound of a door slamming, Maddie frowns slightly)
But I give you it all

I am a woman in love
And I’d do anything  
     (a muffled voice, Miss Me barks.  Maddie smiles again)
To get you into my world
And hold you within
It’s a right I defend        
Over and over again
What do I do?

With you eternally mine   (she decides on an outfit for work, starts taking off her robe)

In love there is—             (STATIC)

Maddie turns around to look at the speaker on the wall.  Just as she does, the static ends and a raucous Elvis song begins:

Well, a hard headed woman
A soft hearted man
Been the cause of trouble
Ever since the world began—

She glares back into the mirror, drops her outfit on the bed, and rushes out of the room.

Cut to:

The Hayes/Addison kitchen.  David is singing and apparently cooking by the looks of things.  Pots and pans are piled in the sink.  Eggshells, bowls, utensils, tipped over spice jars litter the countertops.

Ever since the world began, the hard headed woman been a thorn in the side of man…” He takes a taste from a wooden spoon.  “Hmmm.  Needs more…”  He smacks his lips a few times, searching the air for the right word.  “…ooomph!”

He grabs for a spice jar in the mess and inadvertently knocks over a prescription bottle.  He looks at it disapprovingly, shakes the bottle, and sees two pills left inside.  He reads the label.

Madolyn Hayes
Take one tab p.o.
At night one hour before bed for sleep.
Take with food or milk.

He replaces the prescription on the counter top next to a jumble of vitamin bottles.  He looks down at the dog waiting patiently for a scrap of something good and tells her,  “Maybe she’ll lighten up when these are gone.”  Miss Me wags her stubby tail.

He’s shaking a spice jar into the pot as Maddie appears in the doorway—rather blows into the doorway—ready to lash out at her housemate for changing her music—and stops suddenly at the sight that greets her:

David, his back to her, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and a bow tied around his back.   She tilts her head and stares for a moment, admiring the view. She puts her hands on her hips and whistles.  As David turns around and smiles at her, the spoon still to his mouth, she sees his muscled body behind an apron, looking like he could be posing for a beefcake calendar, entitled…Nibble This.  

Watching her smiling at him appreciatively, he looks down at himself and says, “Took all the wind right out of your sails, didn’t I Blondie?  Do I know how to get you moving in the morning or what?  Tomorrow maybe we’ll try Black Sabbath.  You’ll probably break the land speed record for Ozzy.”

She turns the volume all the way down on the speaker.  “It would be a whole lot easier to be mad at you if you put some clothes on.”

“So you’re saying this works for me.”  He turns around slowly to give her the full effect.    “It’s a little drafty in back, but it keeps my chest hair from catching on fire.”

“I’ll bet Mrs. Rusk next door liked it too when you went out to get the paper.”

“So that’s where that wolf whistle came from.”

“Well, I have to say, the look becomes you,” Maddie says admiringly.

Beaming, David turns back to his masterpiece on the stove.  “Yeah, that look becomes you too.  Try to hang on to it until tomorrow night.”

“What’s tomorrow night?” she asks him.

“D-night,” he calls over his shoulder.

She scowls at him like she doesn’t understand what he’s getting at.

He explains, “D-night, Maddie.  Like D-Day only more fun.  And in your case, definitely louder.”  She continues to stare blankly at him.  “You know…the passion parade.  D-night we get D-OK from Dr. Weed to—How are you feeling this morning?”

Maddie laughs quietly, comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist. “Much better,” she says quickly.

He makes a face like yeah right.  “You did just have surgery, Maddie.”

Not just.  It was two weeks ago.”

“Only thirteen days ago by my calendar.”

Incredulous, she says,  “You actually put it on your calendar?”

He shrugs.  “Gives me something to look forward to.  Like the first day of summer vacation.  Yep, big plans for tomorrow night.”

“So, why not tonight?  What’s one day give or take?”  He shakes his head in protest, but before he can speak, she continues.  “Besides it was minor surgery, David.  And I have a follow up appointment this afternoon.  Does that make you happy, Mr. Worrywart?”

“Excuse me, but if you flash back to Episode One you’ll see you did ask me to be more considerate.  Granted, I know my cooking skills are about as good as—“ he stops short of slighting her culinary expertise.  “Hey, I’m trying.”

Surveying her messy kitchen she says, “I can see that.”

“Should I come with you today?”

“No,” she states adamantly.  “In fact, why don’t you greet me at the door tonight wearing this little outfit instead?”

She gives him a slow, sensual kiss.  He starts to respond then pulls away.

“Sorry, lady, no hanky panky until tomorrow.  Doctor’s orders, Ms. Hayes.”

“Excuse me, but since when have you followed anyone’s orders, Addison?” she asks.  She can sense the tension in his body and begins running her fingers up his arms languidly.  She looks deep into his eyes to drive her point home.  “We don’t have to be so rigid about waiting until the last second.  I won’t tell if you won’t tell.”  
David shivers slightly, gently pushes her away once more, places his hands around her face, and tells her firmly, “This has to do with your health, Maddie.”

“David, it’s one day early.  It’s perfectly fine.  I’m perfectly fine,” she cajoles.

“Yes, you are.  And I want to keep it that way.”

This statement irritates her.  She pushes his hands away.  “I’m the one that needs to keep it that way.”  Then she smiles, “Plus, by tomorrow night I may not feel like throwing you down on this tile and…and…”

“And what?  Having your way with me?  I’ll risk it.”

He gives her a chaste kiss on the nose, and turns back to the stove, gritting his teeth.  Maddie stares at his back for a moment, and goes to the kitchen counter to watch him slave over his creation.  He’s more interested in taking care of her lately than he’s interested in her, she thinks.  Resignedly, she says, “Something actually smells pretty good in here.”

“Well, as you so often love to tell me, it can’t be me, so it must be my cooking.  Are you ready to try my masterwork?”

“I’m afraid to ask…what is it?”

“Oatmeal,” he responds proudly.

Maddie raises an eyebrow.   “Did you say— oatmeal?”

“That’s what I said.  Big O – little…everything else.  Great for the old arteries.  But don’t eat too much or you’ll wind up looking like this guy. “  He holds up the oatmeal box for her to see.

“Great, thanks…I haven’t had oatmeal since grade school,” she grimaces.

“Well, first I tried another omelet but it didn’t come out so hot.  In fact, I couldn’t get it out of the pan.  By the way, does Carmen do dishes?”

She gives him a disgusted look.  “So oatmeal it is, I guess.”

“You don’t think I’d make you eat regular old everyday oatmeal, do you Maddie?” he asks.

“Of course not.  Never.”

“Of course not.  This is my special recipe.  Oatmeal ala Addison.  Made with apples, cinnamon, honey and some of this stuff.”  He holds up a large spice jar of Allspice. “I figured it’s got all the spices, so I used about half the bottle.  Here, try it.”

“You first, Julia Child,” she tells him dubiously.

“What don’t trust me?  Think I’d try to poison the only woman who’s ever let me live in her house longer than a week?”

“I’ve just never seen oatmeal that color before.”

“Hmm.  Maybe you’re right,” he agrees as he looks down into the steaming cauldron.  “It doesn’t look like my mom’s used to.”  Then, a little unconvincingly, he says,  “Ah, what the hell.  It’s only oatmeal.  It can’t kill me, right?”

“I’m glad I took that CPR class just in case,” she teases.

“Here goes, Goldilocks.  Daddy Bear will try it first so you know it’s—“

“Just right.  Yeah, I’ve heard the story.  Eat it, David.”

David takes a ladle full of the goop, brings it to his nose, sniffs it, looks up at her and smiles smugly, then shovels in a huge mouthful.  Almost immediately, his face turns red and he gets the look of panic that people get when they’ve just bit into a habanero pepper and need to discreetly get rid of it before they die.  He finally remembers where the sink is and spews out the mouthful of oats as Maddie laughs at him.

“Maybe half a bottle of allspice wasn’t the way to go, David.  I’m sorry, but I don’t think the culinary world is ready for you yet.”

Between slurps of water from the tap, he says, “Someday… the world will understand… the je ne sais quoi… of Oatmeal ala Addison.”

“But not today.  Think I’ll stick with coffee.”

He protests.  “But Maddie…let me fix you up some regular oatmeal.  Plain old, everyday, bland oatmeal.  I’ll even follow the instructions on the box this time.”

Getting a little annoyed with him again, she tells him firmly, “Really David.  Enough with all this cooking and hovering.  I’m fine with coffee and toast and the newspaper.”

“Well, that’s not a healthy way to start the day.  You need some vitamins, some minerals, some fiber.”

“Who died and made you June Cleaver?” she asks sarcastically.

“Remember what Dr. Weed said, Maddie.”

Maddie clenches her teeth ominously.  “Yes.  She said I’m fine.”

“She also said you need to take care of yourself.”  He knows it would be better for the sake of domestic harmony to keep his mouth shut, but he can’t seem to stop himself.  “Speaking of which, these are new.”   He holds up her prescription bottle.

She explains defensively, “I just got a few of those to get my sleeping pattern back on the right track. You know I’ve had insomnia lately.”  Then a defiant spark flares up in her eyes. “It’s not like I’m shooting heroin, David.  Plenty of people have bouts of insomnia at some point in their lives.  It means absolutely nothing.”  

To diffuse her growing hostility toward him he says,  “We could always watch that Harry and Sally movie again.”

Maddie says with some resignation,  “No, that only works to put you to sleep.” She looks down into her lap. “It’s only a three day supply.  After that, hopefully I’ll be back on track.”

“Well, what do you know about these pills?” he persists.

“I know they are addictive if you take them for too long.  That’s why I’ve only got a three day supply.”

“Why can’t you sleep, Maddie?  What’s bothering you?  Am I snoring, need to clip my toenails, what?” he asks her worriedly.

“I don’t know.  I’m sleepy all day, then when I want to sleep at night, I just can’t.”  She shrugs and looks up at him.

“Well, the least I can do is to make sure you get proper nutrition into that beautiful body of mine—I mean yours,” he smiles.

Teasing him, she replies,  “That’s healthy?”  Then, seeing the concern on his face, she continues,  “David, I’m touched that you’re concerned about my well-being.  Really, I am.  But taking care of me is my job.  I know all about nutrition.  I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“How well I know it,” he shoots back.

This sets her off again.  “Really.  All this attention and cooking and looking after my health is starting to make me ill. I’m not an invalid.  I feel like a hamster in a cage. I don’t want or need to be the center of your universe.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re the center of my universe just because I cooked a few bad meals and bought some vitamins,”  he says doubtfully.

Maddie’s voice rises dangerously as she slides off her stool and approaches him counting on her fingers.  “And took the dog to the vet, and told Agnes to lighten my work schedule and God knows what else.  You’re making decisions for me and observing every move I make and everything I eat.  You’re acting like my mother.  Just knock it off, okay?”

“You’re way off base, as usual,” he replies in a calm voice.  Then he looks her up and down lecherously.   “Although I have to say…you deserve to be observed, but not for what you eat.  And I sure don’t want you to look at me and think of your mother.”

Her irritation with him visibly melts as he grins that grin at her.

He grabs her hand and gives it a quick kiss.  “Ha! I did it again.  It’s a gift.”  He sits her down on the stool and proceeds, “Okay, here’s the deal.  I’ll stop being your personal Mother Hubbard if you keep me in the know.  Don’t keep me in the dark about all this stuff just because I’m a guy, Maddie.”  He points his wooden spoon at her.  “Or worse, because you think I don’t take anything seriously.  I care about what happens to you.”

“I know it,” she says softly.  “But there’s nothing going on.  I promise I’ll tell you everything Dr. Weed says this afternoon.”

He relaxes then and decides this is enough heart to heart for one day.  Enough for them, anyway. David goes back to the stove, reluctantly pours his creation into the sink and starts over.  He asks her playfully, “So, what’s new in the world today, dear?”

She snatches the morning newspaper off the counter and begins to scan the front page.  

“Looks like the same old, same old.  Conflict in the Middle East...  economy’s in trouble…  some famous actress went crazy a few nights ago and made a scene…

Interested, he asks, “Oh yeah?  Who?”

“Deborah Darrow,” she answers.  “Oh…she was in that movie I loved so much when I was a kid.  What was the name of that?”

“Please, Maddie.  Not another movie.  Hey, wasn’t she in an episode of Gilligan’s Island?”

“So sad… Anyway, the police picked her up ranting hysterically about someone making threatening phone calls to her.  They had to sedate her and commit her for observation overnight.  She released a statement saying she’s being stalked.  Everyone else says she’s hallucinating or on drugs.  How awful…”

“Hmmm?” he asks distractedly.

“God, it would be bad enough having a nervous breakdown.  I can’t imagine having to do it on the front page of the newspaper.  I feel kind of sorry for her.”

His mind on getting the lumps out of his new pot of oatmeal, he just answers, “Hmmm.”

Maddie’s gaze goes to the bottom of the page where there is a picture of a vaguely familiar face.  She jumps off her stool as recognition sets in.  “David!  The Justice Department has Mr. Anselmo in custody!  Do you think they’ll want to talk to us?”

“If they want to talk to us, they’ll call us,” he says matter-of-factly.

“I suppose so,” she continues to read the article.

“Now sit and eat your oatmeal,“ he says solicitously.

“David…”  Maddie’s teeth are clenched again.

Before they can start rehashing the argument, the phone rings.

“Ooh.  That must be the feds.  Right on cue.“

Maddie answers the phone.  “Hello…Good morning, Agnes...  Well, I suppose we could be on our way in………Already?  It’s not even 8:00………Ok.  Tell her we’ll be there soon.”  She turns to David.  “Sorry, dear.  No time for a healthy breakfast.  We have a very anxious client pacing in our waiting room.

Cut to:
Blue Moon’s outer office.  A young woman sits in the waiting area.  She’s beautiful in an I-can-wear-anything-slinky-with-no-underwear-and-look-great sort of way.  Her silky, shoulder length hair is black and her eyes are blue, and both are in shades that never could have occurred naturally.  She pulls out a compact and begins applying deep red lipstick very slowly and sensually.  The worker bees (a loose term if there ever was one) are all staring, the males practically drooling on their desks.  The young woman looks down at her gaudy diamond watch, then up at Agnes and tells her impatiently, “I think I should try somewhere else.”

Bert pops up from his desk like a jack-in-the-box, ready to implore her to stay, even though he’s a bit miffed that she won’t talk to him or anyone else in the office.  She is adamant that she’ll only speak to Ms. Hayes.   Before Bert can say anything, David saunters in the door, whistling a tune.  He holds the door open for Maddie to enter as he gives this truly striking woman the Addison once over.

Confidently, he holds his hand out to the woman, dropping the door on Maddie’s shoulder. “I’m David Addison,” he introduces himself, “and this is the very self-reliant Maddie Hayes.  I hope we didn’t keep you waiting very long.  How may we help you, Miss…?”

“Horne,” she says, smiling into David’s dancing eyes.   “Caprice Horne.  But I’m not—“

Just then Maddie shoves David out of her way.  “Why don’t you step into my office, Miss Horne?”

“Actually, no,” she announces.
David and Maddie reply in unison, “No?”

“No,” she repeats.  “I need you to sign this and follow me downstairs to the parking garage.”

“I’m sorry, but I just came from there and I didn’t notice any cases lurking around.  Did you, Ms. Hayes?” he says casually, turning to Maddie.

Maddie looks confused and somewhat perturbed by this woman.  “No—I mean, why should we go to the garage?  Why can’t we discuss your case here?”

“We’re wasting time…and it’s not my case,” the woman states impatiently.

“I see…” David says, looking thoughtful.

Maddie turns to him doubtfully.   “You do?”

“Not really,” he mumbles out the side of his mouth.  “I just don’t want to look as dumb as you do right now.”

Now Maddie is exasperated with them both.  “Miss Horne, this is highly irregular.  You can’t expect us to just leave with you, with no explanation, and after you’ve shown up here before business hours and without an appointment.”

“All right,” she sighs resignedly.  “Where’s your office?”

“This way, please.”  Maddie turns to lead the way to her office.

The woman looks at David.  He holds out his arm.  “Ladies first.”

He watches them walk into Maddie’s office, then turns to the ogling men at their desks and mouths a silent but obvious vote of approval.  Jergenson and O’Neill give the thumbs up sign.

Agnes suddenly remembers something.  She jumps off her stool and calls out, “Mr. Addison, I need to speak to you.”

“Not now, Ms. DiPesto.  I’m casing a case,” he calls back, delighting the guys with his little pantomime.

“It’s about the Ansel—“

He rushes over to her and slaps his hand over her mouth.  He calls into Maddie’s office.  “Maddie!  I’ll be right there.  Start without me.”

Maddie acknowledges him from her office, closes her door and shows Miss Horne to the usual seat in front of her desk.  She sits down herself, knits her fingers in front of her and begins, “Now, Miss Horne, will you please explain to me what is going on here?”

“I’m not here for myself.  I’m here for a friend.”

“A friend,” Maddie repeats.   “Why couldn’t this friend come here himself?”

“Herself,” Caprice corrects her.  “My friend is a her.  Actually she’s my boss.  And she couldn’t come here because she’s afraid of being seen here.”

“So being seen here would create some unwanted publicity for your friend?”

“Yes.  My friend, umm boss does not want to be seen coming into a detective agency.  Not even a Beverly Hills detective agency.  Not even Maddie Hayes’ detective agency.  The press, you know.”

Adding uneasiness to her impatience with Caprice, Maddie says, “So, we’ve established that the press is after your boss.   So who is she and why does she need a private detective?”

“Before I answer, you need to sign this.”  She shoves a sheet of paper under Maddie’s nose as David enters the office, talking a blue streak as he goes.

“So sorry, ladies.  There was some pressing business that needed…um…pressing.  What’d I miss?”

Maddie shoots him a look.

“You missed this.”  Maddie hands him the piece of paper.  

David reads it aloud.  “Confidentiality agreement?”

Maddie stands up behind her desk and announces, “I’m sorry, Miss Horne.  I’ve had enough of this game.  We don’t have time for twenty questions.  We have a business to run. “

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Caprice says, suddenly alarmed that she’s about to be kicked out of the office.

“And I assure you that this is a professional agency,” Maddie continues.  “We treat all our clients to the utmost privacy.  But perhaps you’d feel better if you took your employer’s case elsewhere.”  She holds the paper out to Caprice, dismissing her.

“My boss is Deborah Darrow,” Caprice says quietly, some desperation making its way into her trembling voice.

Maddie sits back down slowly.

Taking her cue to continue, Caprice explains, “I’m sure you can understand the fact that she wants to keep this out of the tabloids.  They’re already calling her paranoid.  And if they found out the whole story…” she shakes her head, clenches her eyes shut as a tear eases down her cheek.  “She can’t take any more bad publicity at this point.  Her career is already in jeopardy over all this.  That’s the reason for the agreement.  I didn’t mean to imply—“

“I’m sure you didn’t but—“ Maddie starts to say gently.

May I speak to you confidentially for a moment, Ms. Hayes?” David interjects.

He drags her by the arm through the outer office, ignoring the hubbub that is suddenly going on there.  He deposits her on the couch in his office.

“Okay, you get the net and I’ll reserve the rubber room.”

“Said with your usual amount of sensitivity,” she scolds him.  “Not that I want to take this case either, but—“

“But what?”  he asks impatiently.  “We’ve already met our crazy client quota this month.”

“David, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, I know.  Can’t Dr. Weed give you medication for that too?”

“Will you stop!  Now, personally, I don’t think I want to get involved with helping some…” She searches for the correct word.

Always helpful, David says, “Whack job?”

“Disturbed” she corrects him, “…woman feed her delusions.  Although her assistant seems to be doing a pretty good job of enabling her.  Then again, I’m sure she gets paid well enough to indulge her boss’s fantasies.  Did you see that jewelry?  I think we should go back in there and give her a referral to Lou LaSalle—or a good psychiatrist.”

Relieved, he agrees.  “Now, you’re talkin’, Goldilocks.  After all, if we took this case, it might cut into my plans for tomorrow night.”

“I know what you’re doing David.”
“What?  What am I doing?”  he asks innocently enough.

She looks into his eyes, aware of his real reasons for not wanting to take the case.  Instead of confronting him she says, “Nothing.  I guess we wouldn’t want anything to interfere with your plans for tomorrow night, would we?”

“Yeah, two weeks is a long time…You must be going crazy,” he winks.

“I transcended crazy quite a while ago.  About the time you moved in.”

There’s a tentative knock at the door.  Caprice pokes her head inside.  “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt but I need to know—“

David bursts out of his chair and beckons her inside.  “Come on in.  You’re not interrupting.  We’re starting a new game.  It’s our very own version of musical chairs but we call it musical offices.  Have a seat and I’ll start the music.”

 “David…” Maddie looks over at him, disapproval written all over her face. “Miss Horne.  It’s not that we don’t sympathize with what you’re boss is going through, but I just can’t see how we can help.  I hate to be blunt, but have you considered a doctor’s care…a psychiatrist.”

“She doesn’t need a psychiatrist,” Caprice insists.  “She’s not crazy!  She’s scared to death!”  She wrings her hands worriedly.   “God, I wish the press hadn’t gotten wind of this.  I swear she’d never put herself or her family through this unless it was real.”

Carefully choosing her words, Maddie says, “I’m sorry but I read the article in the paper this morning.  The police found no evidence that she was being stalked.  They even had a witness and a security camera that was watching her and no one was following her that night.”

“That guard at the studio?  He could have easily been bought off.  And security cameras can be tampered with,” Caprice declares.    “Besides, it didn’t start a few nights ago.  This has been going on for months.  We’ve just managed to keep it quiet until now.  Please Ms. Hayes.  I read about you in the papers too once upon a time. Don’t you remember what it felt like to live in a fish bowl?  For the whole world to know what happened to you, parts of your life suddenly appearing as headlines at the supermarket tabloids for people’s entertainment? Didn’t you want, you know, for the truth to come out?”

Maddie considers this.  “It is such a violation.  But what good does vindication do?  People believe what they want to believe anyway.”

“But it’s not true.  Not any of it.”

“Then she can sue the papers,” Maddie rebuts.

“Not unless she can prove that she’s not crazy.  That she really is being stalked by someone.  Please just listen to her side of it.”  Caprice looks from one to the other, her eyes pleading.

Maddie looks hard at Caprice and swallows.  David feels her resolve fading.

“Maddie…” he warns her.

“What harm would it do to hear her out?”

“Thank you so much, Ms. Hayes.  Deborah knew you would at least listen to her side of this.”

Maddie’s face lights up.  “Is that why she chose Blue Moon?”

Caprice blurts out, “Sure.  And you were inexpensive and in the neighborhood.”

David snickers disgustedly and tells Caprice, “We’ll give her ten minutes.”

Cut to:

The parking garage.  As they exit the elevator, Caprice is still pleading her boss’s case.  “…so then I came to LA to be a singer; I was the soloist in the church choir back home and stuff, but I guess I couldn’t cut it out here.  So when that didn’t pan out, I got a job as a make-up artist for one of the studios.  I met Deborah’s daughter and she introduced me to Deborah.  She was always so nice.  Not like the other stars I worked with.  Those people treated you like a servant.  But not Deborah.  Over the years, she’s become like a mother to me.”

“Okay, I get it.  She’s a saint,” David mutters.

“You just need to know the kind of woman she is.  She’s real.  She’s not nuts.  She would never do this to get attention or publicity or something.   And in spite of everything she’s been through in her life, her mental health is fine.”

Maddie is about to ask for an explanation for that remark as they approach a limousine parked sideways across four parking spaces.  David whistles when a chauffeur climbs out of the limo, walks around to the passenger door and opens it for them.  They climb inside and drive away.  After a thirty-minute ride they wind up in a residential section of Beverly Hills lined with stately homes set back on manicured lawns.  The limo pulls into a long circular drive and deposits them in front of a mammoth white Dutch Colonial.  They walk up a long flight of granite steps to the front door, which is flanked by twenty- foot high columns.  Caprice shows them inside through a spacious entryway and into the living room.  It too is large and cluttered with a lifetime’s worth of movie memorabilia.

“I’ll let Deborah know you’re here,” Caprice tells them as she leaves.

After she’s gone, David strolls around the room with his hands in his pockets, checking out the expensive décor and antiques.  He turns to Maddie.  “Well, at least we know she can pay our fee.”  Then he notices something standing on the mantel.  “Maddie, look at this.  Is this an Oscar?”

She nods.  “David, put that down!”

“I’d like to thank the Academy, my mother, my hairdresser, everyone I’ve ever known, all the little people, and especially a certain sexy blonde, who have made me what I am today.”

Maddie looks at him, exasperated.  “David –“

David looks at the camera and winks, then turns back to Maddie.

“Hey babe, you might want to take a good look at this.  It’s probably the closest either one of us will ever get to one of these.”

Maddie rolls her eyes, then gestures wildly as she hears footsteps approaching.  He gets the Oscar back to the mantel right before a woman enters the room.  She takes off dark glasses to reveal meticulously made up, wide-set blue eyes, reddened and puffy with stress or exhaustion or both.  She smiles nervously, accenting her high cheekbones and generous lips.  Her wavy salt and pepper hair, coupled with her feminine silk blouse and dark wool pants make her look like a farm girl turned beauty queen from the forties.  Maddie and David are both struck by her mixture of regal good looks with a girl next door quality.  Well… woman next door.  She holds out her shaky hand.

“I’m Deborah Darrow.  Thank you for seeing me Ms. Hayes, Mr. Addison.  And I apologize for the cloak and dagger routine.  I just have to be so careful.  I assume Caprice filled you in somewhat about my predicament.”

Looking a little dazzled, Maddie takes her hand.  “Yes, somewhat, but I still don’t see how we can help you, Ms. Darrow.”

“Deborah, please.  Well, the police don’t seem to want to.  Even my husband, the most supportive man in the whole world, is looking at me strangely.”

David clears his throat, finally finding his voice.  “I get the feeling there’s something more to this than we read in the paper today.”

A look passes between Deborah and Caprice as the younger woman sets a silver tea service down on the coffee table.  “Something I haven’t even told my husband.  If I did, he’d make me take something stronger than these.”  She shakes a prescription bottle.

“What are they?” David asks.

“Sleeping pills.  I haven’t been doing much of that lately. ”

David gives Maddie a knowing look.  “A lot of that going around,” he says.

“Your husband is a physician?” Maddie asks.

“A psychiatrist, yes.  And if I tell you the full story of what’s been happening to me, you might want to send me to one.  That’s why I need you to promise me that whatever I tell you won't go any further than this room.”

Forgetting that he’s talking to a famous actress and that he really doesn’t want this case anyway, David starts defending Maddie’s ethics as an investigator.  “Here we go again with the confidentiality crap.  Look lady.  Does this look like a woman who would run to the Enquirer?  Doesn’t she look like she has a bit more class than that?  I thought you picked Blue Moon specifically because it was her detective agency.  You couldn’t find anyone with more principles.”

“Perhaps it’s not Ms. Hayes I’m worried about Mr. Addison.”

“Oh for the love of—I’m done with this.  Maddie, are we done with this or what?”

Touched by his defense of her, but curious to hear Deborah’s story, she says calmly, “Just a minute, David.  We said ten minutes.”

Deborah sits down on her silk antique sofa.  “I’m sorry.  I’m a little…out of sorts right now.  Let’s sit and talk.”  She pats the sofa for them to sit, and Caprice sit opposite them.  Deborah leads off by speaking to Caprice directly.

“First of all, I’m sorry, dear, that I never told you the extent of this until now.  I just thought I could deal with it alone.  I didn’t want to worry you.  Now, Ms. Hayes, Mr. Addison, I am being followed.  I am being threatened.  It started about two months ago.  When I decided to do this new television show.  When I decided it was time for a comeback.”

“A comeback?  Where have you been?” Maddie asks.

Deborah smiles sadly.  “I’ve been right here.  But Hollywood’s been passing me by for quite some time.  And you know what they say in this town.  You’re only as good as your last project.  Well, my last project was a guest appearance on the Love Boat.  When a woman gets to be a ‘certain age’, opportunities begin to dry up.  The phone stops ringing.  I’m sure you’ve heard this all before.  It’s just a fact of life for actresses in the film industry.”

Maddie looks at her sympathetically.  “I have noticed that the older the leading men become, the younger their leading ladies seem to be.”

“Exactly.  So a few months back, miracle of miracles my phone does ring.  A new television show is in development.  Something about a small town and the powerful family that owns everyone and everything in it.  It’s called Houston.”

David says sarcastically, “ That’s fresh.”

Deborah shrugs and Maddie gives him the evil eye. Deborah continues.  “Be that as it may, it was a wonderful part.  I would play the matriarch of this family.  Would I be interested?  I jumped at the chance.  I love acting more than…almost anything else in my life.  Of course, I’d still be perfectly content with things going on like they have the past two years, scandal and all.”

She sees by their blank expressions that neither one has kept up with the gossip columns in People.  “Some people say he’s a bit too young for me,” she shrugs, “but what the hell.  We’re practically newlyweds, Ian and I.  I had been divorced for many years, and I never thought I’d marry again.  Then a few years ago… at the lowest point in my life… I met Ian through mutual friends, and we’ve been together ever since.  He’s an extraordinary, caring man.”

Caprice agrees.  “He’s the best thing that ever happened to you, Deborah.”

Deborah nods.  “Now my husband, who makes a good living, was not too thrilled about the idea of my going back to work.  He likes the fact that I’ve been able to travel and be home with him these past few years.  He’s also somewhat over protective and he worries about me putting in long hours on the set.  But he knows how important my career is to me.  So he agreed to this television series with certain stipulations.  No sixteen-hour shoots, no locations, plenty of time off.   The production company agreed to those terms and we began shooting about five weeks ago.  As soon as I reported to the set, I began receiving phone calls.  Hang ups.  Then they progressed to heavy breathing.  I assumed that some pervert had gotten my private number so I had it changed.  The calls continued.  Then they became menacing.”

Maddie is totally engrossed by now.  “In what way?”

“Whispered threats, things like, ‘Don’t report to the set or you’ll be sorry’.  General tripe like that.”

“Did you manage to record or trace any of these calls?” David asks objectively.

“In hind sight that would have been the prudent thing to do, but I thought they would stop.  I’m embarrassed to say now that I didn’t even tell anyone.”

“Did anyone ever witness one of these calls?”  David, again.

Deborah glances at Caprice and sighs.  “Unfortunately, no.  I only told Caprice a few days ago and only because she found me crying in my motor home. No one else knew…at least not until the other night.”

 “But most anonymous phone callers are harmless.  They almost never carry through with their threats,” Maddie tells her.

Deborah shakes her head.  “Tell that to the person who’s been following me.”

“When did that start?”

“I’m not sure.  I became aware of a presence about a week ago.”

A look passes between Maddie and David.

“A presence?  What does that mean exactly?” Maddie asks her carefully.

“Just a feeling that I was being watched…I would turn around and catch someone ducking into a doorway.  Sometimes a car would follow me home at night.”

Maddie and David sit silently, staring at her with interest and concern.

Deborah jumps up from her seat on the sofa and starts pacing.  “I know I sound paranoid.  But paranoia doesn’t explain what happened two nights ago.”

Deborah’s eyes dart around the room.  Caprice seems to sense what she is looking for and pulls a linen handkerchief out of her pocket.  As Deborah takes it from her, she grabs her hand and smiles at her thankfully.  She dabs at her perfect eye make up.

“So…what happened?” David prods.

“Well, I’m not a paranoid, hysterical woman but I am surely going to sound like one when I tell you this.  This is what I couldn’t tell the police…or my husband.”

There is a suspenseful silence while the star builds up to her big moment.  “Once again, I felt like I was being followed when I left my trailer that night.  It was dark.  I was memorizing lines.  I always like to do that when it’s quiet and no one is under foot so I can concentrate.  Anyway, I was walking toward my car, when I felt like someone was right behind me.  I was very frightened.  I got to my car and I don’t know what happened.  I just got furious.  I decided that whoever was doing this I would have to confront him to make him stop.  So I turned around, faced him and started yelling into the shadows.  A figure came toward me.  As it came closer I recognized who it was.  Ms. Hayes, it was my daughter.”  Her tearful eyes go up to a portrait hanging over the mantel.  A portrait of a smiling young brunette who resembles her mother quite a bit.

Maddie looks confused.  “Are you afraid of your daughter?”

“Ms. Hayes, Mr. Addison.  I thought everyone knew…My daughter died in a car accident four years ago.”

Maddie and David sit in stunned silence.  Thinking that they might be ready to walk out the door, Caprice comes to Deborah’s aid.  “It must have been someone who just looked like Lauren.  It could have been…stress.  You’ve had so many sleepless nights lately.”

Deborah looks sadly at Maddie and David.  “See what I’m up against when even my biggest fan doesn’t believe me?”  She reaches into her pants pocket and pulls out a lipstick tube in a plastic bag.  “But I have this as evidence.”

“Lipstick?”  Maddie asks skeptically.

“Not just any lipstick.  My daughter was a make-up artist and a damn good one.  Before her death she was developing her own cosmetic line.  This lipstick was her own unique formula and she used to wear it all the time.  She gave it to me the other night.  Possibly as a warning or a sign.”

“Sign of what?  She wants you to change your shade?” David says cynically.

Deborah turns on them defensively.  “A sign that what—whom—I was seeing was really her.  No one else would have this in his or her possession.  No one else would even know about its significance to me.”

Caprice covers her mouth with her hand and starts to cry quietly.

David leans into Maddie’s ear.  “Wait a minute.  This is not the Halloween episode.  I’m not doing no ghost hunt.  I’m not Scooby Doo.”

“David, please.”

Caprice continues to plead, “Deborah, don’t you see?  Someone is just trying to frighten you.  I know how much you miss Lauren.   I miss her too.  But that wasn’t her the other night.  The phone calls, the person following you and whatever you saw the other night…it’s all being caused by the same person.”

“She’s trying to tell me something...  She’s trying to warn me about something,” Deborah insists.

They turn as they hear the front door slam.  In walks a tall, handsome man impeccably dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, a little kerchief in the pocket to match his maroon silk tie. He approaches Deborah, and quickly kisses her on the cheek, looking at everyone else in the room in turn.  Caprice stands up slowly and he gives her a strong, supportive hug and a kiss on the cheek as well.  The man turns to Maddie and David.  “I’m glad I got home before you left.  I wanted to meet you myself.  Deborah, Eduardo wants to ask you something.  He’s outside in front.”

Deborah explains.  “Eduardo is the gardener. Caprice, will you please let him know I’ll be with him shortly?”

Ian says impatiently,  “We pay him a small fortune and you want him to spend his time waiting on the front step?”  He hesitates and shakes his head regretfully.  “I’m sorry, dear.  I didn’t mean to snap.”

Deborah smiles at him sadly but affectionately.  “I’m causing so much tension around here.  I’m sorry too.”  She turns to Maddie and David.  “Excuse me a moment.  I’ll be right back.”

“Excellent decision, dear,” Ian triumphantly smiles like he has won an Oscar as he watches her leave the room.
He smoothes his hair and makes sure he hears the front door close before he speaks to them.  “So you two are private detectives.  You don’t really look the part.”

David shrugs.  “You must not watch much TV.”

Ian looks up at the portrait of Deborah’s daughter.  “My wife is a very fragile person right now.  She shouldn’t have called you in on this situation.  But sometimes that woman can be so headstrong…” He turns back on them suddenly.  “She doesn’t need anyone stringing her along to obtain a bigger fee.”

“Hey—“ David starts but Ian holds up his hand to stop him.

“I’m not saying that’s what you’ll do.  Your agency actually has a fairly good reputation, all things considered.  But you have had some notoriety over the years…Yes, I checked you out thoroughly.  All I’m saying is that if you choose to take this on, I want assurances that this will be handled discreetly, efficiently and above all, quickly.  The sooner you can prove to her that she’s dreaming or hallucinating or whatever, the better.”

“But what if she’s not hallucinating,”  Maddie inquires.

“You think my wife saw her dead daughter?  If that’s what you think, you’re in the wrong business, Ms. Hayes.  You should be wearing a black shawl and carrying a crystal ball.”

“Of course that’s not what we think.  We don’t know enough about this to think anything yet.  However, someone could be doing this to her.”

Caprice sniffles and walks into Ian’s open arms. “Why?”  she asks sadly, looking lost.  “Why would someone want to do this to her?”  

“That’s what I’d like to try and find out…”  Maddie states emphatically as we

Freeze Frame

The Scene:  Later that same afternoon, David’s office.  He rocks in his chair watching Maddie, who sits on the couch across from him concentrating on phone records.   David leans forward and picks up the bag containing the lipstick.  “There’s something about this case that’s bugging me…something I can’t quite put the old finger on yet, but I’ll think of it.”  He comes around from his desk, swinging the bag, and leans against the desktop.

She’s busy focusing on work like she hasn’t done in weeks and doesn’t acknowledge him, so he says,   “You know, I bet Deborah Darrow was really something in her day.  She still is…except for that little psychosis thing she has happening.”

“Hmmm…”  Maddie answers.

“She kinda reminds me of someone…”

“Umm Hmmm…”

“But if I say who she reminds me of, it might get me in trouble.  So I guess I won’t say it.”

“Whatever, David…So you think there’s nothing more to this than a crazy aging actress who’s hallucinating.”

“Does Scooby Doo wear tails?”

Maddie heaves a sigh and goes back to her phone records.

He decides a little more shoptalk is in order.  “I guess I can see a few ways this Darrow case can pan out.”

Her head pops up.  “Such as?”

“Well, there’s the obvious theory that she’s nuts.  Anyone who sees her dead kid coming at her from out of the shadows…”  He puts his hands up in a “spooky” gesture.

“But we can’t just assume the ‘obvious theory’.  We’re being paid to find out if there’s any proof of something else going on, David.”  She leans forward.  “Now, what about Caprice?  She’s very close to her boss.  She could have something to do with this.”

“But why?  What’s her motive?  If Deborah winds up playing Norma Desmond at the Hollywood Happy Ranch, Caprice loses her job.”

“Oh really…You believed that stuff about her being like a daughter to them? And that husband certainly seems overbearing.”

“Yeah, and I could retire on his cufflinks.”

“He seemed very concerned about money even though there seems to be plenty of it to go around.”  She gets a glint in her eye.  “Maybe Caprice and Ian are in on it together, to get at her money…  And each other”  Maddie raises an eyebrow.

He leans down, close to her face.  “That’s a very interesting theory, Ms. Hayes.  Just let me put that in my big book o’ clues…  Boy, you smell good.”

“Are you ridiculing me?” Her eyes narrow as she glares at him.

He quickly snaps back up.  “Now, Maddie.  Don’t get your panties—don’t jump to conclusions.  Maybe you’ve been watching too many movies lately.  God knows, I have.”  He swipes a hand over his looming five o’clock shadow.

“Well, I’m done watching movies, David.  I’m back to work full time now and that means giving our client one hundred percent. Whatever your ‘theories’, we need to find some proof.  Now, I’ve been looking at her schedule.  She works late again tomorrow night.  Let’s plan on—“

“Whoa, Whoa.  Tomorrow night?  Tomorrow night, Maddie?  Why don’t we get Bert on it?  Or better yet, Jergenson and O’Neill.  They have speaking parts now. Might as well put them to work.”

“But she didn’t come to Jergenson and O’Neill.   Or Bert.  She came to me.”

“Yeah, because your agency was cheap and close by.”

“I feel for her, David.”

“I wish you’d feel for me for a change.”

She looks up at him with veiled contempt.  “From the way you checked out Miss Horne today, I thought maybe you’d like to feel for her too.”

“You caught that, huh?”

“I caught that, uh huh.”

“Well, I was just trying to accommodate you Ms. Hayes.  Don’t want you to think you’re the center of the universe or anything.”

“But David, you and I live together.  We’re supposed to be a couple.  When you do things like that, I feel it’s disrespectful to me.”

“Ah Maddie.  I respect the hell out of you.  You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Well, if you don’t know it by now…”

“Lately, instead of respect all I get is people fawning all over me.  I’m done with that, David.  Things are going back to normal around here.  And at home.”

“Great.  Sure.  But people are just trying to help you out.  You need a breather from all this stress.  Running this business—“

“What I need is a breather from all this stifling attention and your need to run my life.”  She takes a deep breath.   “Look, I know you mean well…”

“I just don’t feel like we, you and me alone, can handle another case right now, that’s all.  We’re going to be pretty busy around here.”
“Oh really?  Does that statement have anything to do with that covert operation I witnessed out there this morning?”  She cocks her head toward the outer office.

“Well, that’s something I need to talk to you about. One of our more noteworthy cases—“

The intercom buzzes and Agnes’ voice comes over.  “Mr. Addison, your brother just called.  He said he’s waiting for you.”

David rolls his eyes.  “Damn, I forgot all about my meeting with Richie.  Maddie, I need to do this, but can we talk when I get back?”

Maddie puts on a more animated face.  “Actually I need to run out for that appointment with Dr. Weed.  We can talk at home tonight…  Wear the apron.”

She smiles seductively and he watches her walk out his door, amazed at how fast her attitude can change these days.  And amazed at how good it makes him feel when she says she’ll meet him at “home”… like he belongs there.  Then he remembers that Richie is waiting.  He grabs his suit jacket and sprints out the door.

Cut to:

Richie and David in a parking lot in front of a bowling alley.

“Hey Rich.   Sorry I’m late.”

“Hey Dave.”  He looks at his watch.  “You enjoy keeping your only brother on hold?  Does that make you feel like the big, important executive?”

“I was in consultation with the blonde.”

“Ooh, you make that sound dirty.”

“Only in my dreams, Rich, only in my dreams…So, what say we get this over with?”

“Oh, that’s nice.  So much for small talk.”

“Sorry, I’m a little tense.  Things are a little tense right now.  At work and at home.  So we need to do this and I need to get back to the office. You ready?”

Richie opens up a large carrying case.  “Got my light up, talking bowling ball ready to go.  But before we do—”

David looks inside the case.  “Richie…it has a cord.  How do you bowl with a cord attached—“

“It’s just a prototype, Dave.  But I want to hear about you and her.  What’s going on?  Honeymoon over—again?”

“Honeymoon?  What honeymoon?  I don’t know… I can’t do anything right with her lately.  I say it’s nice outside, she says it looks like rain.  I say it’s hot, she says it’s cold.”

“Just a thought, bro.  Why don’t you stop talking about the weather?”

A horn sounds, drawing their attention across the street to a woman exiting a parked car.  David stops in his tracks as he spies a familiar derriere walking hurriedly into a sidewalk café, greeting another young woman with a brief hug.  It is Caprice.  Richie whistles.  “Looks like two cats fighting in a bag.  A tight… black…silk bag.”

“Down boy.  You’re a married man.”

“So that makes me blind?  Although the idea of meeting that woman in Braille— Hey, what about you?  You can stare at her but I can’t?”

“Shut up, Richie.”

By the look on David’s face, Richie can tell David has more than a passing interest in this girl.

“You know her?  Does Maddie know you know her?  Can you introduce me so I can get to know her?”

“I just met her once,” he says distantly.

David watches the two women across the street engaging in a very intense conversation.  Caprice shakes her head emphatically as the other woman talks, trying to persuade her, by the look of her gestures.  Suddenly, Caprice yells  “Stop!” so loudly that they can hear her from across the street and over the traffic.  Then she pulls her arm out of her companion’s grasp, gets back in her car and drives away.

“Man, where’s a camera when I need one?”

“Uh…Dave?  She’s gone…Can we get a move on here?  We’re gonna be late.”  They start moving across the parking lot.

Finding it a little tough to concentrate on Richie, David attempts to regroup.  “Oh yeah.  Sorry.   Now, Richie, Lenny is a friend of mine.  I’m willing to make the entree so you can give him your spiel—“

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for doing this, Dave.  I really appreciate it.  But back to you and the blonde.  I mean no surprise that you’re fighting but…could she be…how do I put this delicately…preggers?”

“Not a chance, Richie.  Remember a couple of weeks ago she had that thing…that medical procedure—“

“Oh man, I forgot!  Is she okay?”

“She’s fine.  But we haven’t been able to…uh, to…why the hell am I telling you this?”  He stops and gives Richie a puzzled look.

Richie takes him by the arm and prods him forward again.  “Because I’m your close personal friend and brother.  You mean you haven’t had—“

“Nope, doctor’s orders.”

“Man oh man.  What have you been doing every night?”

“Watching a lot of movies, Rich.  I think I rented every chick flick in LA by now.  They’re all running together.  I can’t even remember which one we watched last night.”

“Could be worse.  She could be making you watch those foreign movies…with subtitles.”

“Well, it all ends tomorrow night.  At least, it’s supposed to…but now, who knows?  But hey… no matter what happens in your life, you need a kidney, a blood transfusion, help moving when Amy finds out about this bowling ball thing—I don’t care.  Just don’t call me tomorrow night.”

“David…David…what’s one night give or take?  Look, why don’t you blow this meeting and go home and surprise your lady with a nice romantic dinner.”

“She’s not too keen on my cooking either. Besides I want to be there when you talk to Lenny.  He’s my friend, Rich.  I don’t want you giving him some snow job so he’ll invest money in this thing.”

“Now, Dave.  I’m hurt.  Would I swindle one of your friends? This light up, talking bowling ball is a sure thing.  It’s got wings.”

“Yeah, wings of lead, Richie.”

Freeze frame on David and Richie entering the bowling alley.

The Scene:  The Addison/Hayes kitchen, around 6 PM that same day.  The music piping through the stereo is definitely a little mellow for the chef.  “Why do they call this stuff easy listening music, when it’s so damn hard to listen to?” he says to himself.

David is standing among piles of pots and pans, some boiling on the stove, some sitting dirty in the sink.  He’s chopping vegetables while stirring a pot of pasta sauce and looking through the mail.  He turns to grab for a spice jar on the counter, trips over the dog and knocks over everything sitting on the counter.  Absently, he sweeps the mess into his hand.  He scolds the dog, notices one of Maddie’s vitamin pills in his hand, shrugs and takes it.  He goes back to the mail and sees something that interests him.  He reads out loud:

“’Save the Flamingo Cove from the wrecking ball.’”  His expression turns wistful.  “They’re finally tearing down the old Flamingo Cove Nightclub.  Well, I guess it’s about time.  And God knows this town can use another car wash.”

He pops a piece of celery into his mouth and reads another envelope.  “Columbia House Music Club…”  He stops chewing and chopping, begins to open the envelope with his knife, then looks back at the speaker on the kitchen wall.  The dog whimpers under his feet.  

“Probably full of Prozac People.”  He flings it back onto the countertop.  “You know what’s wrong with this so-called music?  This is the kind of stuff you hear at a funeral.  Well, I ain’t at no funeral.”  Knife still in his hands, he walks over to the wall to turn off the speaker as Maddie enters the kitchen.  She takes a quick look around at the mess.

“You’re going to cut off a finger,” she says, pointing to the knife.

David quips back, not missing a beat.  “That’s what finger bowls are for, right?”

Maddie sighs.  “You know, David, most of the stuff in this kitchen is still foreign to me, but I’d like to keep things intact in case I ever decide to use any of it.”

“Don’t worry about the mess.  I’m cleaning it up as I go along.”  He takes a taste of the sauce.  “Still doesn’t taste like my mom’s.  Wish I could remember her secret ingredient.   Now sit.”

“I am not a dog,” she says indignantly.

“Of course you’re not.  You think I’d do all this for a cocker spaniel?”

She shoots him a dirty look as she reaches down to pet the dog.

“What is all this, David?  Why are you attempting to cook again after our discussion this morning? And why aren’t you wearing the apron?”

“Well, you need to eat, and the apron goes on after I hear about your doctor’s appointment.”

Avoiding his piercing eyes, she says, “Yes, I suppose we should talk about that.  Would you pour me a glass of wine first?”

A feeling of unease starts creeping up on him, but not quite ready to deal with it yet, he cracks, “Ah, get it yourself.  You’re not an invalid.”  She seems distracted, like she didn’t hear him.  He pours her a glass of wine and says gently, “Okay, but just this once.  After tonight I go back to being a chauvinistic, sports watching, inconsiderate jerk who leaves the toilet seat up.”

“Thank God,”  she says tiredly, a little smile forming at her lips.

“Oh—and I do need to talk to you about a case.  Unfortunately it can’t wait until tomorrow.”

“The Darrow case?”

“No, another case…an old case.” Now he’s avoiding her gaze.   “The Anselmo case.”

“The Anselmo case?”

“The Anselmo case.  The feds called this morning.  They want us to turn over all information and evidence collected relating to Mr. Anselmo’s doings while we were following him.”

Maddie’s wine glass stops halfway to her mouth.  Suddenly she looks like she’s got a pot boiling somewhere too.  “The Anselmo case.  They called this morning?  When were you planning to tell me this?”

He shrugs.  “I’m telling you now.  You looked like you didn’t feel too good this morning.  So this is the first chance I’ve had between our new case, Richie’s dog and pony show and your doctor’s appointment.  Speaking of which, how did it go?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, David. Never mind about my appointment.”

“’Never mind’.  Look, this Anselmo thing, the Darrow thing, all of them can go on the back burner for two seconds while you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ll say what gets put on the back burner, David.  So tell me, now you’re making business decisions based on the way you think I look?  What’s next?  Will you be taking my temperature to gauge whether or not I’m fit to leave the house in the morning?  Or, better yet, should I just take an early retirement since you don’t feel the need to keep me updated about the details of my business?”

Miss Me runs to the back door, as David tries to take the volume down a notch.  “Calm down.  Don’t worry.  I’m handling it. It’s under control.”

Maddie’s not having any of it.  Her voice continues to rise.  “Exactly!  Everything’s under your control.  I’m under your control!  Just the way you like it!”

“Actually, I’d say you’re not under anyone’s control at the moment.  Come on, Maddie—“

“You figured you wouldn’t bother telling me that Blue Moon, my business, is part of a federal investigation.  I don’t believe this!”  She throws her hands up in the air.

David states calmly,  “It’s my business too, Maddie.  We’re partners, remember?”

“Oh yeah, I remember all right.  Partners—that word implies that decisions are made together, conjointly, mutually—not because one partner can’t handle the fact that the other partner is perfectly capable of succeeding without him!”

“That’s not—“

She starts pacing.  “You’ve been treating me like Camille for two weeks!  Like I’m terminal, for God’s sake!   For the last time, I am not an invalid, I am not sick, but I’m sick and tired of all this!”  She throws a dishtowel down on the counter top to make her point.

Incredulous, David’s voice begins rising to meet hers.  “This what?  Making dinner?”

“Making dinner, making breakfast—Oatmeal for breakfast! Changing my diet, changing my plans, deciding what I can and cannot do. Making business decisions totally without me.  Poor Maddie, dealing with woman problems, acting hormonal, can’t handle any cases, can’t handle anything! If I’d wanted to live like this I would have mar—“  She stops herself, but it’s too late.

With that, David’s anger boils over.  “Which one, Maddie?  Sam or Walter?  Come on, I’m curious.”

Sorry now, she tries to touch his arm but he pulls away.  “David…this is ancient history.  You can’t possibly think after everything we’ve been through together that I would— ” she says quietly.

“No…I don’t think you would.  But maybe you wouldn’t with me either.  Maybe you just wouldn’t with anyone.  You know what your problem is, Ms. Self-Reliant Madolyn Hayes?”

Go to overlapping dialogue:

“Wait a minute.  My problem?  I’m not the one with a problem, David.  “
“You have this independent streak a mile wide…”
“You act like being self-reliant is a character flaw…”
“…not to mention a skull that’s a foot thick…”
“The flaw is that you have an ego bigger than the state of California…”
“You want me to be more thoughtful, more attentive, then you don’t.”
“This goes way beyond being considerate.  And into controlling and manipulating.”
“Jesus, I’m sick and tired of walking on eggshells around you.”
Then STOP… cooking!”  

She says this very slowly, her hands on her hips.  They are standing about an inch apart from each other.  David throws his hands up in the air in frustration.  “Maybe I should just leave!”

“Maybe you should!”

He turns away from her, mumbling under his breath, “I swear to God…hormones, the female equivalent to ‘the devil made me do it.’”

Maddie seethes back at him.  “Hormones?  Like I don’t have a legitimate reason to be angry at you?  Like I should trust you with every aspect of the business, not to mention my life?  Hell, for all I know, you might decide to have a weenie roast and burn down my house.”

He lowers his voice to match her low blow.  “You just can’t admit that anyone else on the planet—”

She doesn’t lower hers.  “It just kills you that I’m not lying in bed, swooning away!”

“…might be able to help you through a tough time.”

Thoroughly enraged, she yells, “I’m not having a tough time!”

“Yeah, right.  That’s why you’re taking pills to go to sleep at night.”

She glares at him.  He continues:  “I looked up those pills, Maddie.  They’re not only addictive, but they can be dangerous if you keep taking them.”

“It’s only three pills!”

“Why do you need ‘em at all?  What’s going on with you?  I hear you wandering around the house at night.  What is it?  What’s bothering you?”  She is silent.  “You’ve never let anyone in there.”  He points his index finger at her forehead.   “You especially won’t let me in there.  When exactly does that happen?  How long do I have to wait around before you finally grant me admittance?”

Pacing like a caged animal, she yells at him, “You’re absolutely smothering me, David!  I need some room to breathe!”

“You want room?  I’ll give you a room.  Here, this one’s all yours.  Don’t let the sauce burn.”

He storms out the kitchen door and makes it as far as the sofa in the living room.  The dog pads after him and stretches out beside him.  He lies down, mumbling to himself, not bothering to turn off the stereo that suddenly seems to be echoing in his head.

Why do we isolate each other                    Can you believe this?
All the walls we build between us
Make it so hard to be together                   Room to breathe…
How can we tear at one another                 I’ll give her room to breathe…
When the thing we have in common
Is an uncommon love

Walls can fall                                                 Smothering her…I should smother
Tears can mend                                             her in her sleep
Why can't we reach across the line         
And touch each other

Here on two sides of the truth                         Sleep…
We've a middle ground in common
An uncommon love

Me - I get lost in my emotions
And I say things in the moment
                    Jesus, this stuff…
And sometimes I hurt you
You - think it's a hopeless situation
But there's something you've forgotten         puts me to sleep…
We share an uncommon love

Time can heal
And hearts can mend
So why can't we reach across the line         puts me to sleep…
And touch each other

When will we ever learn                                     sleep…

That the thing we have in common
            Is an uncommon love                                     sleep…
                                We have an uncommon love                        sleep…


He comes slowly back to consciousness; aware of being in bed with an arm draped over his back.  He reaches for her hand, smiling, eyes still closed, thinking he must have moved up to the bedroom at some point during the night.  And if her arm is around him she can’t possibly be mad anymore.  He kisses her hand, feels the covers rustling behind him and a kiss brushes his cheek softly.  He turns to meet her lips, aware that they’ll both have morning breath but after that knock down, drag out last night who cares.  They share a long, tender kiss.  He puts his hand behind her neck, not wanting her to break away too soon.  When the kiss finally ends, he lies back on the pillow, eyes still closed, as she begins planting kisses down his throat and onto his chest.  He hears her purr:

“Now, that’s the right way to wake up in the morning.”

“Yeah, beats the usual dog lick in the face.”

“Dog?  What dog?  When did you get a dog?”

His eyes pop open, alarm registering in his brain.  The voice is not Maddie’s.  In fact, the bedroom is not Maddie’s.  He can’t see his surroundings very well but he’s sure this isn’t right.  He scrambles to sit up, tangled in the sheets, blinking to get a good look at the woman in bed with him in the darkness of the room.

“David, what’s wrong?  You look scared to death.”

His eyes finally adjust to the low light and he finds himself in his old bedroom in his old apartment, looking into the troubled face of—Caprice!  He grabs the sheet and brings it up to his chest, in the manner of a school marm in an old western being confronted by an outlaw in her bedroom.

“Uh…hi.  Look, it’s not that I don’t think you’re an extremely attractive girl and all, but what the hell are you doing here?  And while we’re at it, what the hell am I doing here?”

“David, did you have a nightmare?  Are you all right?”

She reaches to brush the hair off his forehead and he involuntarily shrinks back from her touch.  “Okay…now you’re scaring me.  Are you sure you’re all right?”

His eyes darting around he mumbles,  “Now… think about this, Dave. You fell asleep on the couch…woke up…here… at your old place.  No dog, no Maddie—“

“Maddie!  Her again?”  She climbs out of bed and starts picking up her clothes from various spots around the room.  “God, I thought after last night, I would have finally been able to wipe her out of your mind.    I’ve done everything I can think of, a few things I didn’t even know I knew, trying to erase her permanently.  David, she’s been out of your life for years!  She’s married!  She’s gone!  Get over her and move on.”

“Maddie’s gone?” he asks, confused.

“God, wake up David.  Of course she’s gone.  Remember…  This is really frightening.  It’s like you woke up this morning and lost the last four years of your life.  Did you take something at the club last night?”

“The only thing I took was a vitamin.  Wait a minute.  Last night…What happened last night?”

“Last night was… incredible.  In fact, I’m feeling the need for a long shower…every muscle in my body aches…I need to wash off the whipped cream anyway.  This stuff is so sticky.”

“Yeah, there should be a warning label on the can…” he says absently.

“Care to join me?”


“In the shower, stupid.  Maybe we can wash her memory away.”  Caprice drops her clothes in a pile and moves into the bathroom, making sure to look as tempting as possible as she does so.  David watches her go, still feeling confused and groggy.  He looks around the room again.  It’s just as he remembers it before the fire.  Treadmill in the corner, clothes draped over it.  He pinches himself and winces.

But this can’t be real… What about Maddie and me?  He thinks about her really hard, trying to bring his life back into focus.  But the harder he thinks, the further away she seems to get.

He hears the shower running and hears Caprice call out his name.  “David?  Are you going to join me?”

Before he can answer the phone rings.

“Hello,” he says tentatively.

“Mr. Addison?”

Relieved, he says, “Agnes?  Boy is it great to hear your voice.  I was thinking that I was going crazy.  That’s it!  Maybe I’m hallucinating like…”

He hears the concern in her voice.  “Did I wake you up?”

“No, no.  I’m awake—I think.  I’m not sure...”  He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, closes his eyes.  “So what’s shakin’?  Do we need to come in early again today?”

“Mr. Addison, I think you’re talking in your sleep.  You’re not making sense.  Does who need to come in early where?”

“Maddie and me.  To the office.  You know, Blue Moon.  Did you put your mascara on backwards this morning?”

“Whoa, Mr. Addison.  You need to wake up now.  This is creepy.”

He opens his eyes, finds himself still staring at his old bedroom walls.  “Damn!”

“Mr. Addison.  Are you okay?  Have you been working too hard?”


“Oh, I get it.  I don’t know when you’re kidding anymore.  Well, you got me good.  Are you coming to the funeral?”

“What funeral?” he asks, alarmed.

“You must have heard…Every Columbia House Easy Listening Artist was killed in a fire. John Tesh, Barry Manilow, Barbra Streisand, Michael Bolton—especially Michael Bolton.”

“Wait a minute. This is weird.  I was just thinking about this.  In the kitchen, when I was making my mom’s pasta sauce for Maddie.”

There is silence on the other end. “I didn’t realize you had seen Ms. Hayes.  She didn’t mention it when she asked me to call you.”

“Of course I’ve seen her.  I see her every day.  Every night.  In my dreams…” He looks toward the bathroom.  “But apparently not in this one.”

“Oh, you got me again, Mr. Addison!  So, about the funeral.  Ms. Hayes wanted me to call you and let you know when it was in case you didn’t know.  She knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Why couldn’t she tell me herself when she came home tonight?”

“Mr. Addison, you kill me!  I sure miss seeing you every day.  Yeah, I guess she could have told you when she found you in the kitchen making your mom’s pasta sauce,” Agnes giggles.

“David, are you ever going to join me?  The water’s getting cold.”

“Huh?  What did you say, Agnes?”

“Never mind.  It sounds like you’re kinda busy right now.  Well, anyway, I guess we’ll see you at the funeral.”

Uncomfortable silence again.  “…Bye, Mr. Addison.”

“Bye.”  As he hangs up the phone, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, then opens them cautiously, one at a time.

He’s still facing the same four walls of his old bedroom, but now there’s a portrait of a calico cat with horns across from him.  He shakes his head and falls back onto the bed.

Dissolve to The interior of a  gothic  church.  Mourners are filing in, all dressed in dark, drab colors.  David sits in a pew towards the back with Caprice close beside him. He gazes at his surroundings and the place begins to feel familiar to him.  The colorful stained glass windows,  the ornate, heavily carved woodwork…the baptismal urn at the front.  A little too loudly he yells out,  “Hey, I know this place.  This is St. Philomena’s.  This is where I went to church when I was a kid.  Richie and I used to get in trouble for playing hide and seek in that urn.”

“David!  Shhh.  People are staring.”

“But what are we doing in Philly?”

David looks around the church in amazement, then he sees her; no, rather, he feels her walk in.  He doesn’t need to turn around to know she’s there. He sits motionless, the back of his neck burning from the eyes he imagines are staring at him right now.   Then from the corner of his eye, he spies her walking slowly down the far aisle with her husband.  Expecting to see the man he had so glibly referred to as Luke Skywalker, he’s shocked to see her walking arm in arm with…Scooby Doo.  

“What the… I hope this doesn’t degenerate into David’s netherworld,” he mutters apprehensively.

She turns around and their eyes lock for a few quick seconds.  A rumbling begins from the stained glass windows.  The church begins to vibrate.  David looks around, ready to run at any moment.  Maddie! he thinks.  He finds her again but she is sitting quietly.  In fact everyone is sitting quietly.  

“Hey, don’t you people feel that earthquake?”  He looks back up at the stained glass windows, which are now filled with lipstick tubes, a huge one in each window.  The rumbling builds.  

Gilligan (yes, that Gilligan), sitting in the pew in front of David, casually turns around and asks him, “Did you try anisette?”


“In the pasta sauce.   Try it.  It beats anything we had on the island.  Speaking of which, can you believe the professor could rig a lie detector from a broken radio but he couldn’t repair the stinking boat?”

The windows implode.  He dives for cover under the wooden pews.
Cut to:
A room with people milling about, drinks in their hands, talking softly.  A banner at the front of the room says, Rest In Peace.  David crawls up from the floor and looks around.  There is a voice behind him.  A familiar voice.  “David.  It’s good to see you.  I wish it were under better circumstances.”

He smiles confidently and turns around.  “I think these are great circumstances. A wake for the Prozac people.   It’s good to see you too, Maddie.  How’s life for you these strange days?”

“Oh, pretty good.”

An uneasy silence begins to set in.  Then they both think of something to say at the same time.

“You go first…” she says quietly.

“No, no.  Ladies first I always say.”

“Yeah, all the better to look at our backsides.”

He smiles.  “My, my Maddie.  I’m shocked.  One minute into the conversation and you’re already talking about—“

Another voice comes from behind him.  “Did you want something to drink, dear?”  He turns, looks into the face of Caprice, and sees she’s putting on red lipstick very slowly and enticingly.

“Uh, sure.  How about a beer?”

“Aren’t you going to introduce me first?” Caprice asks, staring at Maddie.

“Oh, sure Caprice this is—“

“Deborah Darrow.”  Deborah holds out her hand to Caprice.

“Huh?  No, this is Maddie—“ he states firmly.

“David’s told me so much about you,” Caprice gushes. “Well, I’d better go get that beer…”  she turns and disappears.

Maddie is standing in front of him again and says quickly,  “David, don’t be such a stranger.  Come by the office and say hi every once in awhile.”

“I can’t come…I can’t.”

“I know…”  She swipes a stray hair off his forehead; her hand moves gradually down to his cheek.

“Don’t go, Maddie.  You just got here.”

She moves her hand around to the back of his neck and pulls him to her in a longing, intimate embrace.  When he pulls back to look into her eyes, they are shiny with tears.

“See ya, Maddie.”

“See ya, David.”

Maddie smiles sadly.  She holds his gaze for a few moments, then turns slowly and walks away.

David is startled by Caprice’s voice behind him.  “So…Are you two finished playing the last scene from The Way We Were?”

He hits himself on the forehead.  “That was the movie we watched last night!”

He watches Maddie disappear into the crowd.  She is mouthing something to him, but he can’t hear her over the crowd.

He follows her down a dark hallway.  He loses sight of her, goes through a red door and emerges into the old Flamingo Cove, now called appropriately, “Dave’s”.  The tables and walls are lined with chrome and metal flashing, pictures of Harley Davidsons and classic muscle cars.  There’s even the front end of a ’65 Mustang sticking out over the stage, where a live band is playing.  The dance floor in front of the stage is currently pulsing with dancing customers and a light show.   “I guess I did some major remodeling…”

David jumps onstage, much to the delight of the females in the audience.  He’s dressed all in black—jeans, t-shirt, boots—there’s a blast from a harmonica and he’s playing and looking like he’s having the time of his life.

He notices Maddie standing off to the side of the stage watching him play.   He stares at her.  He feels like he hasn’t seen her in years…and he really misses her.  

He stops playing abruptly and jumps off the stage, followed by appreciative clapping and yelling from the audience. He finds himself standing in front of her.

“This place is fantastic, David.  You’ve done a great job.”

“Well, it’s just a dive, but what else do I have going for me?”

“I knew you could play the harmonica, but I had no idea you were so good at it.”

He flashes the famous Addison grin at her.  “I’m thinking about shaving my head and taking this act out on the road.  I’ve even got a name for the band: The Accelerators.  What do you think?”  Maddie shakes her head disapprovingly.  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he winks.

They sit down opposite each other, too far apart to suit him.  Instead of making small talk, Maddie gets right to the point.   “Look at you, David.  Every woman in this place wants to be with you.  You could have anyone you wanted now.”

He strokes her face and looks at her sadly.  “Then why don’t I have the girl of my dreams?”

She looks away.  “Don’t say things like that.”  

He takes her hand and moves in closer, wanting to kiss her so badly he knows he won’t be able to stop.  He kisses her hand instead.  “Your hand is shaking,” he tells her.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Oh, all right.  I guess we’re just having one of those tremblers Southern California is so famous for.”

She jumps up and starts pacing in front of him.  She gives him a frightened stare.
“What’s wrong, Maddie?”


“Yeah, right.  Nothing’s ever wrong.  Everything’s always F-I-N-E Fine!  This is like a broken record.  What were you trying to tell me a little while ago?”

“I was trying to tell you… that I didn’t tell my husband.”

“Didn’t tell him what?”

“I didn’t tell my husband, David,” she repeats enigmatically.  There is a rumbling noise on the other side of the wall.  They both turn at the noise when a huge wrecking ball crashes through the wall and swings toward them showering them with dust and debris.  Maddie screams and David covers her protectively.

When he sits up again, he finds himself in Maddie’s living room, which looks like it did before her most recent redecorating job.  “Look at this.  Still dreaming in reverse,” he mutters.

Maddie walks in holding a cat… with horns. She asks, “David, what are you doing here?”

“Something about this case has been sticking in my craw…”

“What is it?”

“I can’t figure it out.  Usually my brain is my second favorite organ, but…”

“I think you should leave now before my husband gets home.”

A voice vibrates into the room:  “Excellent decision, Dear.”

David turns around toward the stairs.  “David, this is Ian. The most supportive man in the world.”  Maddie looks up at Ian lovingly.

“Ian?  He’s your husband?  Wait—You said you didn’t tell your husband?  Isn’t that what you said? Didn’t tell your husband, didn’t tell your husband…SO HOW DID HE KNOW?”

The horned cat starts meowing and rubbing up against his leg.  He looks down and sees hanging around its collar a baggie with a lipstick tube inside.  He looks up when he hears the ceiling beginning to crack.  Fire and smoke are seeping through the opening.

He wraps Maddie in his arms, shielding her from the rubble and smoke surrounding them.  She offers no resistance—strong, independent Maddie.  Her head finds his shoulder and she fits against him like his missing half.  Familiar, comfortable, perfect.  

He continues to hold her as they move toward the front door.  She clings to him to avoid the chunks of her house that are pummeling them both now.  He glances up the stairs and sees fire raging down from above.  She buries her face in his chest, a little cry escapes from her mouth.  

He whispers, “I’m here, Maddie.  I’ve got you.”

The roar around them recedes into the background.  He strokes a hand over her hair and kisses her temple, and feels complete.   They make their way to the front door slowly, through thick smoke.

They reach their exit.  Instead of rushing outside to safety, they stop.  He looks deeply in to her eyes and tells her, “Oh, can't you see it baby, you've got me goin' crazy…"  She answers, “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you …”
Whatever it takes,  or how  my heart breaks…



He looks up when he hears something rumbling down the stairs.  A huge bowling ball is headed quickly toward them.  He pushes her out of the way, puts his hands up and yells.
I  will be right here waiting…


He jerks upright. He hears the stereo playing quietly. Looks down…no bowling ball. Looks around, up at the ceiling…sees no cracks, no fire, no one but Maddie, who stands in front of the living room sofa—in the redecorated living room—with her arms crossed in front of her—and minus the horny cat.  She has a combined look of anger and bewilderment.

“David!  Wake up.  You’ve been having a nightmare.”  

He blinks at her, scrutinizing her face.  “Maddie, is that you?”

“Of course it’s me.  Who else would it be?”

“Do we still work together?”

“For the time being, yes.  But depending on the final outcome of this argument—Ouch!  Why did you pinch me?”

“Sorry, just checking…Do I live here?”

“Who knows?  Not for long at this rate.  What is wrong with you?  I couldn’t wake you up.  What were you dreaming about?”

“I don’t know.  I’m not sure.  Something about pasta sauce and…lipstick!”

“Lipstick?” she asks skeptically.

He becomes more agitated and rambles, “And funerals, and bar bands and weird looking cats...”

“And lipstick?” she says accusingly.

He’s looking around the room, under pillows, patting his shirt pocket. “Jeez, I feel weird.  What time is it?”

“7:30.  Why? What are you looking for?”

“The car keys.  PM?  You mean I was only asleep for a few minutes?”

“Yes!  God David, you’re scaring me.  You were yelling some pretty peculiar things. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Well, that was a pretty bizarre dream.  You were married—“

“Really,” she says indifferently.

“To Scooby Doo.  And…Ian?”  He tries to bring the dream back into focus.

“Excuse me?  You are not making any sense.  I think you should go upstairs and go to bed.”

“Do we still have an upstairs?”  She gives him a look of total aggravation.  “Oh well, I need to get over to the Darrow residence. I solved the case.”

He stands up quickly and sways from a strong bout of dizziness.  “You better drive…”

Cut to:
The granite steps outside the Darrow home. Maddie and David ring the doorbell.  She tells him, “You’re hanging out there on a pretty big limb, Addison.”

“Not a limb…a small branch maybe…could even be a twig.”

Deborah answers the door herself and shows them into the living room where her husband and Caprice are already waiting.  “Mr. Addison.  You sounded so strange on the phone.  What is all this about?” she asks warily as he staggers past her.

“Those pills you’ve been taking, what are they?”


“How long have you been taking them?”

“I don’t know.  Close to three months, I guess.”

“Now just a minute.  Those are legally prescribed, by myself,” Ian interrupts loudly.

David falters as he turns to him.  “Then you must know that they’re becoming somewhat controversial in the medical field.  Most reputable doctors won’t prescribe them for longer than a week.  There’s evidence that they make patients hallucinate.” Holding his palm against his forehead he adds, “or worse.”

“That’s all anecdotal.  There’s no concrete proof.”

David’s not listening to explanations. He begins pacing in front of them.  Maddie’s face is full of concern as she watches him.  “But maybe you only needed the pills to back up the hallucination you were creating.”  He points at Caprice.   “Who was that woman I saw you with today?”

“David, calm down,” Maddie urges him.

“I don’t get this line of questioning at all.  What woman?” Caprice asks.

“The woman in front of the restaurant.”

“I was at the studio all day.”

Ian shakes his head in disbelief.  “I see where your fertile imagination is leading, Addison, but you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

Deborah remembers, “Actually, I was looking for you this afternoon, Caprice.  Someone told me you went out for lunch.”

“Oh that.  I just met a girlfriend for a quick bite.”

David says, “I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly?  You mean a quick fight, don’t you?  I have a witness.”  He turns to Maddie.  “I was with Richie.”  He looks back at Caprice accusingly.  “With a little make-up, that woman could easily pass for the one in this portrait.  You two were arguing about something.  Maybe you wanted her to stop following Deborah.  Maybe you thought Deborah was going over the edge, and that’s not what you wanted to happen.”

“Mr. Addison, Caprice is not responsible for terrorizing my wife.”

“Well, I don’t think it was her idea,” David says accusingly.

Deborah stands up.  “That’s ridiculous.  You are barking up the wrong tree.”

“What is with all you people and the timber analogies?  Look, you’re taking a powerful, possibly hallucinogenic drug.  Introduce threatening phone calls, someone who looks like your deceased daughter, the stress of this new series and presto!  You’re in for a long hiatus of electroshock therapy and basket weaving.  Leaving him in control of your estate…”  He looks from Ian to Caprice.  “…and a few perky fringe benefits along the way.”

“I’ll sue you for slander,” Ian shouts.

Deborah turns to Ian trying to help.  “But what about the lipstick?”

David smiles.  “Oh yeah…the lipstick.”  He holds up the bag.  “The outside case looks clean.  No prints.  But let’s just open it up.  The inside tube is one place criminals usually forget to wipe for prints.”

Maddie is shocked.  “David!  That’s brilliant.”

“Nah, got it from my—one of those movies.  You should pay closer attention, Maddie.  So, ladies and gentlemen of the Academy, should we just take this evidence on down to the police—“

“No!” Caprice yells.

“Caprice!” Deborah gasps.

Caprice looks desperately at Ian.  “Tell them the truth.  Tell her the truth.”

Ian gives her a blank stare.

“It’s not like he said, Deborah.  Not at all.  Ian tell her!”

“Caprice…I don’t know what you want me to say.” Ian sympathetically holds out his hands to her.

She slaps his hands down.  “You liar!  This was all your idea.  He wanted her home.  He didn’t want her to go back to work.  Deborah, we weren’t trying to drive you away, we were trying to keep you here.  Ian, tell her the truth!”

“Caprice, please.  Ian would never—“

David adds, “And how did your husband know about you seeing the apparition of your daughter?”  He pauses for emphasis and looks at Ian pointedly.  “You said you hadn’t told him, but he knew all about it.”

“No, he didn’t.”  Then she sees the stunned expression on her husband’s face and she knows.

“Oh my God. You were either making those phone calls or having Caprice make them for you.  You were having someone follow me.”  Deborah looks from David to Ian, hoping for an explanation.

Caprice explains sadly, “He wanted to scare you back into retirement.  But all he succeeded in doing was driving you half insane.”

Ian places his head in his hands, not able to stand his wife’s accusing eyes staring at him any longer.

Deborah looks at Ian coldly.  “I want you out of here as soon as you can pack an overnight bag.  I’ll have the rest of your things sent to where ever it is you’ll be staying.”

“This is a community property state, Deborah.  I’m entitled to half our assets.  You can’t just kick me out—“

“This house was mine before we were married.  It’s not part of the community property and I don’t want you in it.  Now get out before I throw you out myself.”

Ian looks up at her, incredulous that she would speak to him in such a demeaning manner.  “Now wait just a minute, Deborah.“

“Are you deaf, pal?  She just said she wants you out of her house.  You don’t have a legal leg to stand on and if you’re not gone in five minutes I’ll make sure you can’t stand, period.”

“You don’t scare me Addison.  I can take you.”

“Try it.”  Ian turns and sees the anger and determination in Maddie’s face.  He looks over at his wife again and sees nothing but disgust there.  He shrugs and pulls himself off the couch.  “Well, Deborah.  I guess you’ve made your choice.  I’ll leave…but I’m warning you…I won’t be back.”

With great poise, Deborah says, “Excellent decision, Dear.”  No sooner is he out of the room when she collapses onto the sofa and buries her face in her hands.  Caprice runs to her side to comfort her, only aware that her friend is in pain and needs solace.  Deborah begins to pull away from her, but then disintegrates into tears.  David looks at Maddie and cocks his head toward the front door.

As they are standing on the landing outside, Maddie says, “So do you think they did it for her or for her money?”

“Who knows?  They did it for their dreams, Maddie.  Too bad they weren’t all dreaming about the same thing.”  He smiles a small, rueful smile.

“Well, I still can’t believe how you figured this out.  I’ve always wondered where your mind went on its little excursions.”

He shrugs.  “All the clues were right there.  One of us would have thought of it sooner or later.”

They begin the descent down the granite steps arm in arm, Maddie holding him so he won’t trip.  Gently teasing, she says, “Let’s go home and put you to bed.  Maybe you can find Jimmy Hoffa or D.B. Cooper.”

At this he stops, tonight’s vicious argument suddenly hanging over both their heads like a mist.   “You know, maybe I should leave…”

“But David—“

“You!  This is all your fault!”  Caprice appears behind David angrily confronting him.  He turns around on the step, loses his balance and tumbles down the five remaining granite stairs.

Maddie hurries down to the bottom where he looks up at her horrified face, grimaces and says, “You know, Maddie, I was hoping I’d be half a century older before I ever said this to you, but I’ve fallen and I can’t get up…”


The Scene:  The master bedroom of the Hayes/Addison house.  David lies in bed flat on his back.  He wears a brace to keep his neck immobile.  He looks very uncomfortable and quite miserable.  He is concentrating on an old, heavy hardbound book, holding it straight over his head so he can read it without sitting up or moving his neck.  Maddie walks in with a tray holding his dinner.  “Hey there.  How’s the patient feeling?”

“Kinda like I fell down a flight of stairs.”  He chuckles a little, then winces in pain.

“It hurts to laugh, huh?  That could be a serious dilemma for you.”

“We haven’t had much to laugh about lately anyway.”  He looks at her intently.

She ignores his segue completely.  “I brought some dinner up for you so you could take another pain pill.  That pasta sauce you made last night came out halfway palatable.  I’m quite impressed.”

“I just remembered my mom’s secret ingredient, that’s all.  I don’t have much of an appetite though.  I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

“Me either.  I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“I’m not talking about my back, Maddie.”

“You’re lucky you’re not in traction right now.”  He continues to stare at her.  “I know what you’re talking about…David…that was last night.  We were angry, we needed to clear the air, we both said some awful things that we didn’t mean.”

“And maybe a few we did.”

“True…but I don’t really think you’ll burn down the house.” She smiles at him weakly.

“Gee, thanks Maddie.”

They stop talking as she puts the tray on the bedside table.  He watches her closely as she fusses with the plate, the napkin, the silverware, an obvious strategy to avoid him.  He’s sure there’s something she’s dying to say to him, but he’s not so sure he wants to hear it.

“So…what are you reading?”  She looks at the title: The Secret Language of Dreams.

“I had Bert go by the library and pick this up.  I wanted to try and figure out what that nightmare was all about last night.  Kinda dumb, huh,” he says sheepishly.

“Not at all.  Some psychiatrists see dream analysis as a way to get to deep rooted problems.”  She shrugs.  “Although… sometimes a dream is just a dream.”

“Okay, well, it says here that dreams about funerals, fire or general destruction indicate you may be contemplating a ‘profound life change’.”  He searches her face for a reaction, then continues.  “It also says if you dream about a horned animal that is a nonsense creation, such as a horned cat, it may indicate sexual tension in a relationship. Well, that sure couldn’t apply here.”

She gives him a flimsy smile.

“Maybe in a couple of days when this thing comes off,” he touches his neck brace, “we can do something about that.  For now…come here.”  He pulls her toward him slowly.  She stops about an inch away from his face.

“Try two more weeks.”

He grabs his neck in another shot of pain.  “What?”

She sits back up, painstakingly fussing with the sheets and avoiding eye contact again.  Offhandedly, she says, “My doctor’s appointment yesterday?  It seems I have some…inflammation.  It’s okay. A minor side effect from the surgery.  She also changed my pills because she felt my hormones were a bit off and that’s why I wasn’t sleeping.  But because of that and because of the inflammation, she wants me to continue to abstain—“

“For two more weeks?”

Maddie nods.  He stares at her for a few seconds; a sly grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.  “And when did you plan on telling me this?”

“I’m telling you now,”  she says meekly.  

David murmurs, “Two more weeks…Maddie, I don’t think there are enough videos left in this town—“

The floodgates pick that moment to open.  She starts talking quickly.  “David…I have been scared. Until now, I’ve never had to face the fact that my body’s going to change, that medical problems could happen to me as easily as they could happen to anyone else—Maybe I am afraid of falling apart—That menopause is lying in wait somewhere out there.  And before you say it, this is not about vanity.  At least not yet.  I’m worried that this is out of my control…that I may miss the chance to…”

Maddie’s eyes glisten, her face threatening to fall apart into a mass of emotion.  She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling, unable or unwilling to continue.  

David watches her fight her feelings, and whispers, “Hey Goldilocks,” and draws her close.  He rubs her cheek softly.  “I know…but we’ll figure it out.  Even the stuff that’s out of our control.  Thanks for telling me…”

Maddie points to her forehead.  “I’m trying to let you in.  I’ll keep trying.  That’s all I can do.”

“Sounds fair.  And I’ll try to give you a little more breathing room.  In fact, if we have to go another two weeks, I better give you your own floor.  I can sleep downstairs.”

“That’s silly, David.  And I want you here,” she pats the bed, “where you belong.”

“Thanks.  So…we’re okay?”

She nods and smiles.

“Now, I’m curious.  You said I was talking in my sleep last night.  What did I say?”

“Just mumbling, mostly.  You mentioned Caprice.”  She gives him a sly look which quickly changes to confusion.  “Then there was something about a bowling ball.”

“Huh.  Nothing else?”

“Oh, I don’t know…I forget,” she says casually, brushing him off.   “Listen, I’m really tired tonight.  I’m going to go change.  I’ll be right back to feed you.  Don’t go anywhere.”  She pats him on the cheek.

“Not funny.”

Maddie exits the bedroom and leans against the door for a moment.  With a contented look on her face, she thinks about what David said last night right before he woke up:

I’m here for you, Maddie.  I’ve got you.

She smiles to herself and we…


Musical Credits:
Woman in Love – Barbra Streisand
Hard Headed Woman – Elvis
An Uncommon Love – Carole King
Right Here Waiting – Richard Marx

Dedication:  I’d like to thank the Academy…and Diane (thanks a bunch for the song) and Lizzie for their marvelous suggestions and ideas that always improve whatever I’m writing.  And Sarah…I guess computer problems happen to the best of us.  Those darn gremlins…

I have a feeling that David’s crazy nightmare may not have translated well from my brain to your computer screens.  But I hope you enjoyed it anyway.

Sweet Dreams,