I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [104]
Wally Johnson was surprised to hear both young women laugh. “Oh, my God,” Vita said. “Did you know what Brittany did with that guy’s wigs and toupees?”
“I heard about it,” Johnson said. “What was that situation? Was Brittany involved with him, or was she in love with him?”
Angela took a sip of her coffee, and Wally wasn’t sure if she was considering the question or finding a way to be loyal to Brittany. Finally she said, “I think Brittany underestimated that guy. She was having a fling with him, but she did it for one reason only and that was to meet people at his Litchfield house who might do her some good as an actress. I can’t tell you how much she wanted to be famous. It drove her. She made fun of Bartley Longe. She put us in stitches imitating him.”
Wally Johnson thought of what Longe had told him, that Brittany wanted to turn their affair into marriage. “Did she want to marry him?” he asked.
Both young women began to laugh. “Oh, good God,” Vita said. “Brittany would no more have married him than…” She paused. “I swear, I can’t come up with a comparison.”
“Then what happened that caused her to destroy his hairpieces?” Johnson asked.
“She saw that most of the people he had up to that house in Litchfield were potential clients, not theatre people. She decided he was wasting her time. Or maybe by then this mysterious other job had come up. Bartley Longe had given Brittany some jewelry. I guess he could tell that she was sick of going up there, and he swiped it from her jewelry box. That’s what really ticked her off. They had a big fight. He wouldn’t give it back. So when he was in the shower, she collected all his wigs and toupees and drove his convertible back to New York. She told us she cut up all the ‘rugs,’ as she called them, and scattered them all over the convertible so that no one in the garage could miss seeing them.”
“Did she ever hear from Longe after that?”
“He left her a message,” Vita said, the smile gone from her face. She played it for us. “He wasn’t ranting the way he would be if she was late getting to Litchfield. He said. ‘You will regret this, Brittany. If you live to regret it.’”
“He threatened her that directly?” Wally Johnson asked, his interest aroused.
“Yes. Angela and I were frightened for her. Brittany just laughed. She said he was a big bag of wind. But I made a copy of the voice mail. As I said, I was frightened for her. It was only a few days later that she packed her stuff and left.”
Wally Johnson considered what he had heard. “Do you still have that copy of Longe’s voice mail?”
“Oh, sure,” Vita said. “I was worried that Brittany just laughed it off, but when she left town I figured Bartley Longe would eventually cool down.”
“I’d like to have that tape if it’s handy,” Johnson told her. When Vita went to get it he spoke to Angela. “You’re in show business, too, I guess.”
“Oh, yes. I’m a dancer. Right now I’m rehearsing for a show that’s going to open in two months.” Before he asked, she said, “And just so you know, Vita is a really good singer. There’s a revival of Show Boat opening off-Broadway and she’s in the chorus.”
Wally Johnson took in the Broadway playbill posters on the walls. “Was Brittany a singer or dancer?” he asked.
“She could get by in both areas, but basically she was a dramatic actress.”
Johnson could tell by the hesitancy in Angela Anton’s voice that she was not going to be lyrical about the theatrical talents of Brittany La Monte. “Angela,” he began, “Toby Grissom is a dying man and is agonized by his worry that his daughter may be in some kind of trouble. How good an actress was Brittany?”
Angela Anton looked reflectively at the framed playbill over the chair where Johnson was sitting. “Brittany was okay,” she said. “Would she have made it to become a star? I don’t think so. I remember one night about four years ago, when I got home, she was sitting here crying because once again an agent had turned her down. You see, Detective Johnson, she was a fabulous makeup artist. I mean fabulous! She could change the way