Miss Saigon

THE MYSTERY OF MISS SAIGON I

by l.satori

Laurie S.

This TG romantic-comedy-mystery story is intended for a mature audience.

CHAPTER ONE

The entrance of the tall, lithe, young lady caught everyone's attention immediately. Long black hair, flawless complexion, almond-shaped mysterious eyes - an exotic Asian butterfly, she mesmerized the sex- starved males on the prowl. Pausing briefly, she surveyed the smoke-filled, dimly lit club, then glided with a dancer's grace on her stiletto heels along the fringes of the dance floor, to the crowded bar. She was encased in a low-cut, figure hugging, dark red, crushed velvet dress. Her graceful, effortless movement suggested raw animal magnetism under restraint. Before she could even get near the busy bartender to order a drink, a lucky man, who happened to be standing at the bar, wasted no time introducing himself.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like actress Michelle Yeoh, you know, the one in the James Bond film Tomorrow Never Dies?" asked the hopeful, confident middle-aged man.

"Well, I've never heard that pick-up line before," she responded enthusiastically, above the din of the music, as her eyes drank in her athletic-looking, well-dressed suitor.

"I was inspired . . . although you look much younger than her . . . Inquiring minds want to know, didn't you have affairs with both Pierce Brosnan and Jackie Chan?" he joked.

"Thanks for the compliment, but didn't I see you in here last week with Gwyneth Paltrow?"

"I'm sure you're mistaken . . . I think I would have remembered that," he said with a reassuring smile. "Since we're name dropping, I'm Frank Parker. And you are . . . ?"

"I'm impressed," she said admiringly, as she nudged his leg with her shapely thigh. Moving in a little closer, she breathed into his left ear, "Jade is my name, although my intimate friends think of me as something more than a semi-precious gem." This time, her heaving cleavage almost popped up out of her tight, provocative dress as she leaned into him. "I think you are a dangerous man, Frank. You appear to have a gun in your pocket."

"You have that confused with my pocket billiards game - you know, the one played with balls and a long stick."

At a table on the other side of the dance floor, I groaned at Jade's rather predictable lines and Frank's old joke. Listening in on a bug planted in one of Jade's earrings, I looked over at a lovely, but angry, Bonnie Parker.

"I think your husband has taken the bait, Bonnie," I said.

"Yes, the dirty rat!" screeched Bonnie with contempt. "He's going to pay for this."

I looked at the revenge-filled eyes of the wife of the filthy rodent Frank Parker. "Jade can be very seductive, but if your husband was faithful, he wouldn't even be here tonight in this dance club."

"I told you he was cheating on me!" she yelled above the din of the pulsating dance music.

"And now we have some proof," I said as I kept my very expensive, tiny camera focussed on the amorous couple. The ultra-sensitive camcorder was hidden in Bonnie's purse.

The life of a private investigator sure has its ups and downs. These tawdry investigations of unfaithful partners helped to pay the bills, but they certainly didn't reaffirm one's faith in humanity. I was fast becoming a cynic. Correction - I already was beyond the point of no return when it came to belief in the goodness of man. In my videotape archive, there were too many miscreants who practiced the seven deadly sins to believe otherwise.

After a few more minutes of progressively sensual groping, Jade and Frank left the club, arm-in arm. Unless my eyes deceived me, the silhouettes ahead of us revealed that Jade was racking up Frank's pocket billiard balls and chalking up his cue stick too. Judging by the combustive body language, fireworks could be setoff at any moment.

Accompanying the cleverly disguised Bonnie, I followed a short distance behind. My Ford Windstar was parked near the entrance. A minute later, Frank and Jade sped off to her motel room near LAX. Events were unfolding just as we had planned.

In Frank's car, Jade was careful not to get Frank overexcited. The cameras set up in Jade's room at the Continental Inn would capture Frank's infidelity. With videotape proof, an out of court divorce settlement in Bonnie's favor was almost assured.

Bonnie and I raced ahead along an alternate route and reached the Continental Inn minutes ahead of Frank Parker and my lovely, versatile assistant, Jade.

We hurried from the parking lot to room 118, which adjoined Jade's suite. With a minute to spare, I activated the cameras in Jade's suite from our remote position. On the monitor, a few moments later, Bonnie and I could see Jade and Frank enter their room. Unbelievably, Frank picked up Jade in his arms, carried her across the threshold, and clumsily groped for the light switch while trying to maintain his grip on her.

"Oh, Frank! You really know how to make a girl feel special," cooed Jade as she clung to Frank. "Is this a hint of things to come?"

"You're the very best, Jade. I'll try and please you any way I can," said Frank quickly, avoiding any hint of marriage talk suggested by carrying Jade across the threshold. As he placed Jade on the bed, the two of them rolled around together in a tight embrace.

"Oh, Frank, my makeup must be a mess," said Jade as she put her hands on Frank's chest, separating the two of them. "Let me freshen up. I want to slip into something sexy, something that will really turn you on."

"I was turned on the moment I saw you. You look absolutely gorgeous, Jade. You're the sexiest woman I've ever met."

"Why thank you, Frank. Keep the fire burning," encouraged Jade. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a minute." Frank let go of Jade's hand reluctantly, and watched as she wiggled her way to the dresser to pick out a piece of lingerie, and then to the washroom.

In the monitor, we could see Frank grinning from ear to ear, as he took off his shirt, shoes, socks and pants. Looking around the room, I could see Frank pausing at the large, framed prints covering up much of the bland, beige, textured, wallpaper. I could see that his room and ours were virtual mirror images, from the nondescript light fixtures to the standard king size bed. I just hoped that he didn't notice our cleverly concealed video camera that looked remarkably like a real clock radio. Then, thoughtfully, Frank turned down the lights, hoping to set a more romantic mood. Luckily our hidden video camera equipment could compensate for low lighting.

"He'll pay for this!" hissed Bonnie. "He said he had to work late. What a liar!"

Do you remember what Cathie Lee Gifford was reported to have said when she found out her husband Frank was cheating on her? `What do you mean there isn't any Tuesday Night Football?'

"Be patient! It'll all be over soon. We have him dead to rights." With a gesture to the door that joined our room with Jade's, I indicated to Bonnie that "Frank's in for a big surprise! But, you'd better remove your wig before we make our entrance."

Bonnie smiled in anticipation as she took off the mousy-looking, unattractive, brunette tangle of curls. She was a naturally beautiful, blond-tressed woman with a body to die for. She fluffed out her hair and gave it a quick combing, then removed some false eyelashes and the pasted on thick eyebrows that had successfully altered her look. Undisguised, Bonnie looked a lot like a young version of actress Faye Dunnaway.

Bonnie fumed at the sight of her husband Frank casually placing his clothing on the back of a wooden chair. Bonnie and her two kids did not deserve this smooth-talking ladies man with the morals of an American president.

Jade emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a diaphanous robe, a revealing spandex bustier and a skimpy g-string, looking like a model from a Victoria's Secret catalogue. Her pert breasts, thin waist, and long, smooth legs commanded Frank to attention. Frank's "stick" responded on cue.

The body heat was palpable even in our room.

A lustful look from Jade, as she parted her moist lips and smiled encouragingly - was enough to spur Frank to attack her. She latched onto Frank in a very tight embrace, although her lower abdomen was almost impaled upon his very excited, very large appendage. Frank reached around Jade's back to the zipper of the bustier.

Suddenly, Bonnie opened the door between the adjoining suites.

"You dirty, rotten scoundrel!" screamed Bonnie, or words to that effect. "How dare you claim that you love me! You cheating bastard!" She jumped up and down, waving her tightly clenched fists angrily.

Jade let go of Frank, gathered up her clothes hurriedly and quietly retreated to the safety of the other room.

"Honey! What are you doing here? Who is this guy?" demanded Frank, as he pointed at me.

"This is Dave Fletcher, a private investigator. I hired him to check up on you - you cheating rat!" screamed Bonnie as she slapped Frank hard across the face. "And we have all the evidence we need on videotape, from the moment you met that bitch in the bar to that last damned embrace!" Waving a finger in his face, she burst into tears as she yelled, "You'll hear from my lawyer in the morning! You'll pay for this, you shithead! How could you?" she wailed.

I put my arm around the very distraught Bonnie Parker and led her back to the other room. I closed and locked the door behind us.

In the monitor, I could see Frank kicking the bedpost with a bare foot, then hopping around on one foot as he grasped a broken toe with his fingers. What a fool!

"Bonnie, everything will work out fine, you'll see. It'll be all right," I said soothingly. "We've got the best proof possible, and with the laws of the state of California, you'll be the big winner, believe me."

"I hope you're right," she said as she hugged me in her arms. "But, I still feel so angry though," she managed between sobs. "How could he do this to me?"

I tried to console Bonnie, holding her in my arms, whispering words of encouragement.

About fifteen minutes later, Bonnie had calmed down. An upset and embarrassed Frank had left the scene,

Jade emerged silently from the bathroom, fully clothed. While Bonnie had her head buried in her hands, trying to wipe away the streaks of her tear stained make-up, Jade mouthed silently to me that she wanted to talk to me in the hallway.

I slipped away as silently as I could, without disturbing the distraught Mrs. Parker, and joined Jade in the empty motel corridor.

Jade was wearing that clingy, sexy, little red velvet dress and those stiletto heels. Her makeup was flawless, and she was unbelievably attractive. Her glowing, glistening skin exuded desire. No wonder Frank Parker could not resist her charms.

"Congratulations Jade! You were absolutely brilliant!"

"Thanks boss," she said flatly.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp slap on my cheek. Without warning, Jade had struck me forcefully across the face.

"What was that for?" I hissed, not wanting to make a big, loud scene that might wake up the motel patrons.

"How could you wait so long? If I hadn't grabbed onto Frank for dear life, he would have stripped off my bustier or my g-string. The duct tape holding this `girl' together would have been discovered. Then, all hell would have broken loose." She emphasized the point by reaching into her bra from which she extracted two flesh-colored pads. She held up the giggly silicone falsies and then bounced them off my noggin from close range.

"Oh, I'm sorry Jade. I didn't realize you felt so threatened by him."

She gave me a look of utter disbelief.

"Honestly Jade, I thought you had everything under control," I said earnestly. "I thought you were absolutely brilliant!"

"You said that already." Jade's expression softened a little as a smile came to her lips.

I quickly embraced her and gave her a peck on each cheek.

"Is that all the thanks I get?" she complained.

I held her tightly and gave her a long, slow, soft Bull Durham type of kiss. You know - the deep, passionate, all-consuming, wet kind that lasts for three days.

Jade was such a sensual, beguiling creature. It was hard to believe this beautiful, bewitching lady was, in reality, my chameleon-like male assistant named Kelly Lee. Who'd `ve thunk it? Even I found it hard to believe.

CHAPTER TWO

The day after the hard night before, it was tough to drag myself into the office to meet with a prospective client. However, since there were only three people in this entire private detective agency, I didn't have much choice. At 11 o'clock, my drop-dead gorgeous secretary, wicked Wanda, announced that Carroll Rosen was here.

"Hi! I'm Dave Fletcher," I said as we shook hands at the doorway to my inner office.

"Hello, I'm Carroll Rosen," she replied with a broad smile that displayed beautiful, pearly white teeth.

"Pleased to meet you," I said, as I led her to a comfortable, plush chair in front of my solid, oak desk. I hoped that the furnishings were sufficiently impressive that I didn't lose any clients based on first impressions. To that end, I had spent truckloads of money on office machinery, drapes, carpeting, a window with an ocean view, bookshelves, art - I was up the old wazzoo in debt.

Carroll Rosen was an attractive green-eyed blonde in her mid-thirties, attired in expensive, understated elegance. Her Armani suit, a conservative business gray, revealed a trim, fit figure - the kind achieved with personal trainers. Her hair, makeup, accessories and wardrobe were meticulous. If first impressions counted for anything, she was head and shoulders above any other new client in style and class.

On the other hand, she was looking at me for the first time too. I wondered if she could tell I had been out late the night before. Did I look tired? Did I fit her image of what a private detective should look like? Was she expecting Hercule Poirot or Mike Hammer? Thomas Magnum or Mrs. Marple? Columbo or Dumbo?

"Well, Carroll Rosen . . . Hmmm, if I'm not mistaken, haven't I seen your name occasionally in the society columns of the Los Angeles newspapers?" I asked.

"Perhaps. My late husband, Richard, was in show business. That's how you might have heard of me before," she replied in a melodic voice, with a hint of sadness.

"Oh, the theatre impresario, Richard Rosen - he was your husband. Now I remember," I responded.

"Yes, until he suffered a fatal heart attack about a year ago, my husband was a producer, heavily involved in mounting `Broadway' musicals."

Carroll Rosen shifted her position in the chair and crossed her gorgeous gams a la Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, and then continued. "My dear Richard was trying to drum up financial backing for another, rather elaborate musical spectacle at the time of his death. Since I have taken over his business affairs, I've tinkered with the idea of reviving the project he was working on. Recently, I decided to give it my best shot. However, I don't have much experience and my darling Richard was a genius, so I'm not sure how things are going to turn out."

"Variety reported that you were holding auditions for . . . Miss Saigon?" Did I mention I once worked for Dionne Warwick on the Psychic Friends Network? Barumpbump.

"Right. Oh, I can tell we are going to get along so well, Dave. And that's why I'm here."

"Okay, let me guess. You want me to audition?" I said with a laugh.

"Not exactly," she responded with a grin. Then her expression took on a more serious tone. "Things have not been going smoothly on this project. We have had some rather unusual problems. Every time I turn around, some other disaster has sneaked up from behind and bit me on the posterior. I just have this gut feeling that somebody is trying to sabotage my best efforts. We have had a vandalism problem- broken mirrors in the dressing room, damaged sets, shredded wiring and such. It seems that too many things are going wrong." She paused, trying to read my reaction. "You might think I'm paranoid, overly suspicious, or just plain crazy, but there is something seriously wrong here. I want your help to investigate this whole, unfortunate Miss Saigon business."

"Why did you come to me? You didn't just pick my name out of the Los Angeles Yellow Pages."

"No. Singer Trisha Dale's business manager, Paul Mauriat, is an old friend of mine. He recommended you to me. He said you and your assistant, Jade, did a super job!"

"Oh, great! I'll have to thank Trisha and Paul the next time I see them." I wondered how much Carroll had learned about Jade/Kelly Lee's singing and impersonation talents.

"In talking to both Paul and Trisha, they say you and your assistant could probably fit in without anyone even knowing you were private eyes."

"I think you'll have to meet my assistant `Jade'. She has some rather special and unique talents. But, we might have to figure out how I might be able to blend in," I said cautiously.

"Oh, I don't think that going undercover will be a problem, Dave. Paul and Trisha told me that Jade was a tremendous talent, with a wonderful singing voice and supermodel looks. As for you, I've given this some prior thought. Since I'm the executive producer, you can be my new associate producer. That will give you free rein to involve yourself in practically everything. Besides, given my lack of experience, I was thinking of hiring an associate producer anyway."

"That could work, as a cover role, but don't expect me to know a lot about being an associate producer or theatrical problem solver."

"Oh, from what I hear, you and Jade are good at improvising," she said reassuringly.

"We'll have to make up some background stories for both of us."

"You know, you could always pose as my boyfriend."

"I meant bogus profiles for Jade and me . . . although your idea might work. Do you think we would be believable lovers?"

"We would be Unbelievable Lovers!"

What a sly fox!

"Okay. I'm up for it. How soon would you like us to start?"

"Yesterday."

Now I knew where I had heard the name Frank Parker before. The main character in the sci-fi television series Seven Days was named Frank Parker. As for Bonnie Parker - what was the name of the novel she appeared in?

CHAPTER THREE

"Bob Donovan, I'd like you to meet Dave Ferguson," said Carroll. "Bob is our director - one of the very best in the business."

"Pleased to meet you, eh," I said as we shook hands. I had to get accustomed to my new name of Ferguson and speaking Canadian. "Carroll has told me a lot of good things about you."

"Bob, Dave is our new associate producer." Carroll let that sink in before continuing. "I searched long and hard to find him. In fact, Dave comes all the way from Canada."

Bob's expression was hard to read. He had a thin, lanky frame, attired in black Gap jeans and an Old Navy cotton shirt. He struck me as being a little uptight, judging by his restless energy, his constantly shifting feet and fidgety hands. His small office was crowded with papers and photos that seemed in danger of being displaced by this human whirlwind.

"Canada? Whereabouts in Canada?" inquired an intrigued Bob.

"Most recently, I've worked at the Shaw Festival at Niagara-on-the-Lake. Prior to that, I worked in Winnipeg. Perhaps you remember, Keanu Reeves tried Shakespeare up there one summer."

That brought a repressed laugh from Bob. I hoped that Bob had never been with a touring company in Canada. In building a cover story, I took advantage of a childhood experience. Luckily, I had been to Niagara Falls when I was a kid and had taken in a play while I was there. Thank goodness my family traveled a lot during our summer vacations! But, that was a long time ago. This superficial cover story depended on obscurity or it would fall apart under even superficial inspection.

"Have you ever worked in Toronto?" asked Bob.

"Just in some of the smaller theatres," I said in a self-deprecating manner. "How about you?" I asked, trying to switch the attention away from me.

"Oh, he's so modest," added Carroll. "It's a Canadian character trait."

"Well, recently, I've worked in New York on some Andrew Lloyd Weber musicals. But, I've done my share of work in small theatres too," said Bob Donovan, "although I've never been to Winnipeg."

"Hmmm, Winnipeg's not the end of the world, but they say you can see it from there, eh. But, Carroll's been so nice. I feel very lucky that Carroll has given me the opportunity to work here on such a wonderful project," I gushed. Understatement was not my forte.

"Gentlemen, we have to get down to business," said Carroll as she pulled us out of the backstage office into the wings. "There are some aspiring actors waiting for their big chance at stardom."

"I'm really looking forward to seeing these eager, hopeful faces. They're so full of energy and vitality." In actuality, I was going to enjoy the auditioning process. While I was a high school student, I had tried out once for a dramatic production. My audition piece was a soliloquy from Hamlet. `To be, or not to be?' Stardom was not to be. Rejected and dejected, I vividly remember suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. But now, perchance to dream, I'd be part of the team to anoint the cast. It would be jolly good fun!

We moved to the front row, center stage.

And what a stage! It was huge! It had to be in order to house a helicopter. The Ahmanson Theatre was one of the few theatres large enough to be able to accommodate this defining stage prop of Miss Saigon. On the other hand, a theatre with the dimensions of an airplane hangar was not likely to have perfect acoustic qualities for a musical. So what the spectacle gained in terms of visual appeal, it might have lost a little in sound clarity, timbre and tone. This musical production would have to surmount some challenging technical problems.

Surrounding us were some of the actors and actresses waiting for their turn to audition. Also, many family members and friends had showed up to show their support at this open call. Carroll waved to some of the familiar faces as we walked to our seats.

Bob Donovan signaled the stage manager to bring out the first actress.

A tentative young Asian lady stepped upstage to a spot directly in front of us. Clothed in a colorful, flowing, figure-hugging gown that revealed some cleavage, it looked like she might have been at home on some tropical island. With some flowers in her hair and leis around her neck, I could just imagine her greeting me as I stepped off a ship in Honolulu. What can I say - I'm a daydreamer.

"Honey, what's your name?" asked Bob, even though he had her resume on his lap.

"Doreen Chao," she replied eagerly.

"Which song have you chosen to perform, dear?" asked Terry.

"The Ceremony," said Doreen with a light in her eye.

"Excellent choice. Okay, let's begin," said Terry as he signaled the accompanist.

The synthesizer musician took a few seconds to turn to the right songsheet, and, with a flourish of fingers on the keyboard, played the delicate introduction. Doreen Chao immediately moved into her dance and song mode.

"Dju vui vay, vu dai mai, vu dai mai, vu dai mai,

Will you forgive me life's smile today?

Look with favoring eyes on this map,

Show your daughters all your forgiveness,

And send to us from your home above,

Your blessing all around . . .

The melody itself reminded me of the Hawaiian Wedding Song, at least, that's what I think the tune was called. Nevertheless, The Ceremony was a Vietnamese wedding song. In the play, it was appropriate because the chorus girls sang it for the leading lady, Kim, to honor her when she moved in with Chris, the American marine.

Doreen moved beautifully, the swaying music and the flowing gown suggested paradise. With a broad smile on her face through the whole song, she could certainly sell herself as a competent dancer. However, her strong soprano voice was not a star quality vocal instrument. Moreover, she had difficulty hitting the low notes. Looking at her resume, I found that she had extensive training as a dancer from a very young age. But, her musical training was almost non-existent. On the positive side, Doreen had had a few minor dance roles in a few musicals. She was worthy of consideration, but there was a lot of competition still to come.

Pulling out a Palm Professional handheld computer from my jacket pocket, I jotted down a few notes. For my records, I used a 10-point scale for scoring her on looks, voice, dancing ability and intangibles.

"Getting ready for the twenty-first century are you?" remarked Bob as he made notes with a silver ballpoint pen on Doreen's resume.

"Boys and their toys," added Carroll with a laugh.

"Not to be confused with boy toys," added Bob with a smirk.

`Are you talking to me?' Pretending that I was using the palmtop as a communicator, I flipped up the cover.

"Beam me up Scotty," I said in my best William Shatner imitation.

Not to be outdone, Bob unscrewed the top of his ballpoint pen, displaying the ink refill.

"Open channel D. Illya, are you there?" asked the Man from U.N.C.L.E. Napoleon Solo/Bob Donovan.

Pulling off my right shoe, a loafer, I held it up to my ear. "Hello, chief! Maxwell Smart here."

Carroll reached into her handbag and pulled out her cell phone. "Gentlemen, this device actually works. Do you want to speak to a psychiatrist? I can recommend one for you."

Suddenly, we all remembered that Doreen was still standing above us. Unfortunately, we had been ignoring her while we were clowning around. She gave us a puzzled look.

"Doreen, please step a little closer," said Bob. "Thank you for trying out today."

She nodded her head.

"Very creative! Did you work out that dance routine yourself?" asked Bob.

"Yes. The music has an easy rhythm to work from, plus there are some changes of tempo that add variety. It didn't take very long to put together a few steps and movements," replied Doreen.

"That was wonderful!" I added. There was much to admire about her toned, dancer's body.

"We have your resume," said Bob. "We'll let you know. The results will be posted on the call board toward the end of next week."

"Thank you," said Doreen.

I almost called out `Ciao' but I resisted the temptation.

An hour later, we had seen fifteen more talented performers. It felt like I was watching A Chorus Line. There were a few polished professionals, some career waiters and waitresses, and the odd truly awful act, but there hadn't been anybody that was head and shoulders above everybody else.

That is, until Jade took her turn.

"Hello gorgeous, what's your name?" asked Bob.

"Jade Lam."

Jade's provocative little black dress showed off her well-proportioned body and long, perfectly formed legs. Her long hair, high cheekbones, enchanting eyes and sensual lips, created an image of supermodel perfection. One moment she projected the illusion of a Hollywood harlot/starlet. In the next instant, I believed her to be a demure, innocent child turned hard-edged Saigon working girl. Jade was so many personalities in one.

"And what piece have you chosen to sing?"

"I Still Believe."

"The question is, will you make us believe?" mused Bob. "Take it away maestro," said Bob to the accompanist.

The keyboard player waited a moment to establish eye contact with Jade, then began.

Jade swayed to the gentle heartbeat of the introductory chords.

"Last night I watched him sleeping,

My body pressed to him,

And then he started speaking,

The name I heard him speak was Kim.

Yes I know this was years ago,

But when moonlight fills my room I know,

You are here still,

I still, I still believe

You will return, I know you will,

My heart against all odds holds still,

Yet still, I still believe . . . "

Enthralled by her lyrical phrasing, her richly textured, soaring voice, her charismatic presence, her connection with our souls through her captivating eyes - what was I babbling on about? I could not have been more impressed by Jade's acting and singing performance. She was far and away the best we had seen, even with our eyes wide shut.

"I think we've found our leading lady Kim," whispered Bob with a broad smile. "Jade, could you come up a little closer?"

My eyes caught sight of something moving above.

"Look out!" I shouted.

A large, heavy object came hurtling toward the stage!

Jade leapt forward, tumbling into the orchestra pit!

Crash! Boom! Tinkle! The sounds of metal and glass striking the wooden floor echoed around the cavernous theatre. A stage light had splattered all over the wooden floorboards!

I jumped up out of my seat, and peered into the orchestra pit.

Remarkably, Jade lay crumpled on the floor, a little dazed and surprised, but unscathed, in spite of her ten-foot tumble. Her death defying escape could be attributed to her martial arts training-the finely honed reflexes of a third dan master.

Shades of The Phantom of the Opera!

I looked over to Carroll Rosen and Bob Donovan.

"She's okay!" I yelled as I clambered down to the level of the orchestra pit floor. Then, with concern I knelt down close to Jade. Gently, I put my hand in hers. We made eye contact and Jade gave me a reassuring smile. Then, I thought I'd better give Jade some time to recover, before helping her up.

I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. The look of worry and concern from Carroll said it all. `See what I mean?'

This was a risky business.

CHAPTER FOUR

Carroll and I had arranged to meet for brunch at a trendy restaurant on Melrose. The Weenie Wagon was a retro, fifties era hamburger joint. Large windows, stainless steel cladding, neon signs, a large white Formica counter, patrons sitting on steel stools that you could spin around on, servers in white uniforms, fifties rock n' roll, and arguably the best hamburgers, fries and milkshakes you could find in L.A. Also, did I mention the liveliest, most delightful girls you'd ever see at a fast food restaurant? The advertising slogan should have been, `It's not braggin' at the Weenie Wagon, when you back it up, with grade A shaggin'.' . . . On second thought, maybe not.

Since I was a few minutes early, I sat at a white plastic table with matching chair and Coca-Cola sun umbrella on the outdoor patio. On a clear day in L.A., there's an omnipresent brown haze that tints the sun's rays; it's almost like you don't need your sunglasses. Nevertheless, there were all sorts of beautiful girls and guys wearing shades, strolling along in light, bright summer clothing. Amazing eye candy! Everyone in the city of angels seemed to be into health and fitness. Melrose was a `no chubby people allowed zone.'

Sitting around at a nearby table was a young, smiling couple, raving on about the newest dance club they had discovered. Over there was a threesome of cool looking black dudes, checking out the passing scenery, sharing headphones, and grooving to their own tunes. At another table, two scrumptious young ladies eyed me invitingly. Next to me, a male couple got up from their plastic patio furniture, discussing the show they had seen the night before. Behind me sat a young, bespectacled Asian, a leftover from the grunge era, face buried in a tabloid. Then there was me - poor white trash pretending to shake, rattle and roll to Elvis on the patio sound system. Talk about your racial stereotypes.

Carroll spotted me first and was already waving and calling to me before I saw her. Her blonde hair, dazzling white linen ensemble and curvaceous form were a pleasure to behold.

We embraced and exchanged kisses on the cheek.

"Have you been waiting long, Dave?"

"No, I just got here a few minutes ago. Thanks for being so prompt."

"Interesting choice of restaurants," commented Carroll as she looked around at the lively street scene. "Strange name for a restaurant - it's a rather suggestive title. Do they serve foot long hot dogs?"

I smiled as I pulled out a chair for her.

"Thank you," said Carroll.

"My pleasure."

Due to the near tragedy the day before, we had taken a day off from the auditioning process. An informal lunch would allow us to get better acquainted. While we spent the next few minutes discussing the menu, other fast food restaurants, and the Melrose strip, I noticed a soft touch on my foot under the table. Carroll had removed her shoes, and they came to rest upon me. As we chatted, Carroll's feet gradually climbed a little higher and eventually both of her feet came to rest on my upper thighs. I was her hassock.

A young waiter dressed in a white uniform came to take our order.

"Hi, how are you? My name is Walter. I'll be serving you today. How may I help you?"

I looked over to Carroll and indicated with a hand gesture that she should go first.

"I'd like an ice tea, no sugar, and a garden salad with lemon juice."

"Very good. And you sir?"

"Hmmm, that's tempting. Could I have a large lemonade, a garden salad with ranch dressing, and your French fries with ketchup?"

"Good. Your order should be ready in about five minutes. Thank you," said the waiter as he put away his order pad and walked over to another table.

"What, no foot long hot dog?" needled Carroll.

"I already have one." I couldn't believe I just said that.

"We'll see." Carroll's left foot inched a little further up my leg until it hit paydirt. A moment or two of exploration and then, "Men are such liars!"

"Eh! I'm a true blue Canadian. My father was a Mountie, and sons of Mounties don't lie - but maybe we lose something in the translation from feet to centimeters."

I grabbed hold of Carroll's pied (a French-Canadian term for foot) and started to massage it slowly.

"Oh, oh, that feels good," moaned Carroll as she closed her eyes. "Ah . . . ah . . . oh!" Her loud breathing and moaning were starting to attract attention. Oh . . . Oh . . . AH . . . AHAH!!!!

At a neighboring table, Walter, the waiter was taking an order from a middle-aged lady and her husband.

"Did you ever see When Harry Met Sally?" she asked Walter. "I'll have whatever she's having."

"Sorry. He's already taken, honey," quipped Carroll, as she snapped out of the moaning mode.

What a flirt! Who did she think she was? Meg Ryan? You know, come to think of it . . .

Eventually, over some drinks and salads, we got around to discussing yesterday's nearly fatal `accident'.

"So what did you find out about the falling stage light?" asked Carroll with a worried look.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as the sun and heat had caused my rear end to stick to the plastic chair. " Some bolts had been unscrewed from the brackets that held the light casing firmly in place. It wasn't an accident. I checked out the other lights for the sake of comparison. All of the others were tightly attached."

"Do you think somebody was trying to target Jade?"

"It's possible. Jade did give the best performance. Perhaps some other actress wanted to eliminate the competition. But, it's hard to say. From what I've been able to piece together, it is possible that the screws and bolts were undone first. Then the light could have been left dangling by the electrical wire. The heavy weight of the stage light could have eventually caused the wire to break, bringing the whole thing crashing down. However, it is entirely possible that seconds before the light hit the stage, the perpetrator could have been up on the catwalk high above the stage and caused it to happen at that particular instant."

"What about the police? Did they take fingerprints?"

"Yes. There were some fingerprints. They belonged to a member of your stage, sound and lighting crew, Allan Hale. His fingerprints were not on the brackets, but on the light casing. That's reasonable, since he says he's the one that changes the lights when they burn out."

"Where was he at the time of the incident?"

"He says he was probably in a backstage bathroom at the time because, when he came out, he wondered what all the commotion was about. Then, when he saw the big mess on the stage and all the shocked people milling around, he figured it must have just happened. So, he says he didn't see the incident and had nothing to do with it."

"Can anyone corroborate his story?"

"He was seen on stage minutes after the light fell, but no one saw him in the bathroom."

"Do you think he's a suspect?"

"Everyone's a suspect. I checked his background. He's been working at this theater for over ten years. The first time Miss Saigon played the Ahmanson in 1991, Allan Hale was part of the crew. Who knows? Maybe he's the phantom menace."

Carroll smiled at my play on words.

"Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about who you suspected before you hired me," I said, wondering whether I should have said who or whom. I never did get that straight in school.

"Well, there are a few people who worked on the first Miss Saigon production. First, there is an actress named Frances Poon who was an understudy for the part of Kim. She will likely be the understudy again, now that Jade appears to have the inside track. We could not get Lea Soraya, our first choice, because she's starring in Broadway's The King and I. It must be a bitter pill to swallow for Frances to be an understudy again."

It was unfortunate that Frances was placed in the understudy category so quickly. It was unfair to her. Why did that seem to happen so often in show business?

"Where was Frances yesterday?"

"I remember catching a glimpse of her among the audience, in fact, I waved to her when I saw her." Carroll paused to consider the possibility of Frances Poon's involvement before continuing. "Then there is the director, Bob. He was an actor back then in the chorus. Another possibility is Ted Shorter, my husband's business partner."

Since Bob had been sitting with us, I was tempted to cross him off the list.

"What can you tell me about Ted Shorter?"

"Ted was a long time friend of my husband. They worked together on practically everything, although my husband had the final say on anything important because he was the money man."

"How do you get along with Ted now?"

"We have had some disagreements recently. He thinks I should let him run things his way because he has the experience."

"And you believe otherwise?"

"Well, it's my money now. I think I have to protect my investment. Besides, my husband always said he and Ted made a good team because their strengths blended together well. Ted was a good deal maker. My husband took care of all the little day-to-day things involved in putting on a production."

Hmmm. There were many possibilities here. I made a mental note to check Ted Shorter's whereabouts yesterday. Then, I suddenly remembered a scene from an old Mel Brooks movie. I can't remember the title of the film, but the plot involved Broadway show producers who needed a tax loss. So, they purposely mounted a terrible musical called Springtime for Hitler. Surprise! Surprise! The show became a fabulous hit! I wondered if I should consider Carroll Rosen as a suspect. Did she have a big insurance policy on the show to cover the lawsuits resulting from accidental injury or death? Did she need a loss to hide some hidden financial shenanigans? Does the name Livent ring a bell?

While I was brainstorming, I thought back to another old show, Remington Steele, which starred Pierce Brosnan and Stephanie Zimbalist. Whatever happened to Stephanie anyway? They were a detective agency fronted by the fictitious Remington Steele. Since Pierce Brosnan's character had little experience in private investigation, he kept relying on his knowledge of film plots to help him solve the mystery at hand.

I resolved to visit Blockbuster Video to pick up The Phantom of the Opera.

Once I paid the check, Carroll and I kissed goodbye. She wanted to extend the kiss and put a little tongue in it. I could taste the lemon and tea from lunch. The kiss wasn't like the passion of Bogart and Bergman in Casablanca, but I was reminded of a line from Woody Allen. `Sex without love is a meaningless experience. But, as meaningless experiences go, it's one of the best.' Then, after breaking from our embrace reluctantly, we headed off in opposite directions.

But, a few minutes later, I returned to The Weenie Wagon. I sat down at a table opposite that grungy looking Asian, who was still fully absorbed in The Racing Form.

"So Kelly, what did you think?"

The chameleon put down his paper and peered over his wire-frame glasses. "I think I had better get to know Frances Poon a little better. And I know you're going to get to know Carroll Rosen a lot better!"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I think you are right about the former, but I'm not so sure about the latter. Carroll is rich, beautiful and sexy. Also, she gives good toe massage, but she's rather aggressive. In relationships, I like to take the lead. Besides, I already know someone, a woman of mystery, my own Madame Butterfly, or maybe M. Butterfly."

"And who might that be, boss?"

"Jade. You're every woman in the world to me, you're my fantasy, you're my reality."

"Boss, there are two ways I could react to that. Either I could be thankful that you are declaring your fascination for me, or I could cut off your Air Supply for being so unimaginative . . . Yes, I've heard those song lyrics before. Originality would be appreciated."

"You know I don't always speak in cliches. I could cleverly disguise it.'" Oh, oh. That sounded like a Burton Cummings rhapsody. "Or, maybe I could quote poetry. You know, How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . . Elizabeth Barrett Browning stuff."

"Boss, I know you like poking fun at pop culture. So, you're not the only movie and music buff. Here's a tough one for you. What famous Hollywood star played a Japanese character and kept referring to an American captain as `Boss' in a 1950s film?"

"I know this one. And the answer is `The American captain was played by Glenn Ford, the Japanese character of Sakini was played by Marlon Brando, and the film was called The Teahouse of the August Moon.' Although I always thought that Machiko Kyo stole the show in her role as Lotus Blossom. Actually, Jade kind of reminds me of her."

As I stood up, I gave Kelly Lee a pat on the back. "And you thought I didn't know."

"So sorry, Boss."

"C'mon, let's blow this pop stand . . . and don't give me that Yogi Berra line for leaving this restaurant all over again."

CHAPTER FIVE

When auditions resumed the next day, our executive group had an added member. Ted Shorter, the late Richard Rosen's partner, sat with us assessing the fresh, new talent. A handsome man, in an earlier era, he could have been mistaken for a matinee movie star in the mold of Clark Gable. He had expressive, large hazel eyes, a prominent, slightly bulbous nose, a full mustache and a strong chin. At six foot two, 200 pounds, solidly built, he was an imposing figure. He also was blessed with the gift of gab. It was easy to see how this smoothie could be a good negotiator and dealmaker.

There were a total of 77 performers that we saw that day over a six hour span. Some of the decisions could be made quickly, but other judgements would take a little more time, perhaps a second test. We had hoped to attract more Asian competition, but Jade's name was at the top of our list from the first day and it remained there throughout.

Finally, after the last singer had finished six hours later (including a half-hour lunch break), I got to chat one on one with Ted Shorter.

"So, Dave, Carroll tells me you're from Canada. Did you ever work for Ed Mirvish in Toronto?"

"No, although perhaps I will someday," I said as nonchalantly as I could. Who was Ed Mirvish?

"Who would I know up there that you know?" asked Ted with what might have been a suspicious look.

"I'm not sure. Have you ever been to Winnipeg or the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake?"

"No, unfortunately."

Whew! What a relief! "I understand you have lots of contacts in the theatre world. Carroll mentioned that you were trying to sign some Tony award winning Broadway actor as our leading man. Any luck?"

"I've been dealing with Glenn Roper's agent for the last week. Dick Paulson - what an asshole! He wants too much! It was like trying to quench Hannibal Lecter's thirst with a mug of Foster's. Everyone knows that Glenn is a good actor/singer, but he doesn't have the box office appeal that could justify paying $2000 per performance. Without that drawing sizzle, Glenn's agent ought to realize that there aren't many big shows available. Unemployment is a harsh mistress. I've already put out feelers for Nathan Lane, even though I don't think he's right for the role. But, we need to put some pressure on Glenn to sign as soon as possible. His agent came back with a more reasonable counter offer via fax this morning. I'll let him simmer a little before I get back to him."

"It sounds like a done deal."

"That's right."

"How about our leading lady?"

"Frances Poon wants to be Kim, but she was the understudy eight years ago, and it's hard for me to settle for second best. Besides, the part requires a young teenage girl. And Frances doesn't have the name recognition of a true star. So we might have to see who's available in New York or London or Toronto. I guess you could help us there. But, from what Terry and Carroll have been telling me, this newcomer, Jade Lam, appears to have star potential."

"Yes. She gave a brilliant performance!" Outwardly I showed restrained enthusiasm. Inwardly I was jumping up and down, screaming my lungs out!

"You wouldn't happen to know who her agent is?"

"As a matter of fact, I believe it's Paul Mauriat, but I think Carroll already has the deal, for all intents and purposes, signed, sealed and delivered. All she's waiting for is the conclusion of these open calls, and then the deal will be struck." I was lying about the arranged deal because I would probably have to work something out with Carroll. But, as long as I talked to Paul Mauriat and Carroll before Ted could check out my story, everything would be okay.

"That's my job," said Ted with more than a touch of anger. "I do the negotiating on all contracts . . . Excuse me."

Immediately, Ted went to find Carroll.

I pulled out my cell phone and dialed quickly, praying that Carroll was near a phone.

After two rings, she picked up. Without wasting any time for pleasantries, I quickly explained the situation, but Ted was knocking at her office door a few seconds later. I advised her to keep talking, to pretend that she was talking to Paul Mauriat, Jade Lam's agent, if Ted asked what was going on. We stalled Ted for awhile as I relayed my descriptions to Carroll regarding Jade's bogus contractual negotiations. Carroll said she understood.

As soon as Carroll said goodbye, I phoned Paul Mauriat's office. Although he had already left for the day, the call was forwarded to him in his car. Whew! The advantages of modern technology! Paul was quite surprised to hear from me about Jade landing the Miss Saigon role. He even offered to review Jade's contract with Carroll Rosen for a reduced fee because he was so appreciative our previous work with his client Trisha Dale. One major jam avoided!

Then, I proceeded to Carroll's office. As I went to knock on the door, I could hear that Ted and Carroll were in a heated debate. So, I waited outside and I eavesdropped for awhile. Now they were not discussing contracts and negotiations. Instead, Carroll was threatening to call the Internal Revenue Service to ask for a tax investigation to be done. Ted wouldn't submit the financial records to an independent audit of the business affairs conducted by Ted Shorter and Richard Rosen in the years prior to his death.

Ted was incensed!

"You don't understand! A lot of the deals were not written down and some of the transaction information cannot be recovered. Both of us would suffer big time if you call the IRS. Those assholes, they assume you're guilty and you have to prove you're innocent. Your husband kept a lot of the information in his head. You know Richard had an excellent memory, so that is why there will be large amounts of money unaccounted for, but it isn't my fault!"

"But an independent audit will give me a better understanding about the whole financial picture. Up `til now, you have told me almost nothing about the financial state of this business partnership."

"Listen Carroll, you'll have to trust me on this. Have I ever steered you wrong before? You know your husband trusted me or we wouldn't have been partners for five years."

Just then, Bob Donovan came along the hallway outside of Carroll's office, so I knocked on her door as I had intended to do earlier.

The heated discussion was put on hold as both Terry and I entered Carroll's office. We spent the next hour and a half compiling the callback list. Although there were quite a few hopeful novices that were quickly eliminated, it was surprising how much we all agreed on our final casting decisions. We felt confident the core group of performers had the necessary talent to make Miss Saigon a hot ticket again. I couldn't wait to call Jade to give her the good news about her special status - the leading lady of Miss Saigon.

CHAPTER SIX

Jade/Kelly's apartment was in a student housing area of Santa Monica, a short distance from the University of Southern California. She had majored in the Performing Arts, taking acting, singing and dance training. In addition, she learned about the technical aspects of filmmaking and scriptwriting. It was an excellent grounding for a person who wanted a career in show business, and what better place for opportunities than Hollywood.

The two-storey building was an older, sprawling ranch-style complex, built around a central courtyard. Apartment 222 was toward the middle of the complex. I couldn't help but wonder what Jade/Kelly's neighbors must have thought about the mysterious occupant of number 222.

After ringing the door chimes, I turned around on the landing to gather in the surroundings. With the warm, evening sunlight fast fading, I saw very few people about; only one young couple was walking leisurely through the courtyard's ramshackle garden.

Hearing the creak of the door opening behind me, I turned to face an absolutely delightful treat for the eyes. Jade, dressed in a long, splendorous, flowery, summer dress that hugged her voluptuous contours, greeted me with a warm embrace and an exchange of kisses on both cheeks. Her heady perfume, glowing complexion, hypnotic eyes, sensuous, moist lips and wavy hair that cascaded over her petite shoulders made me want to throw her on the nearby couch and make mad, passionate love to her . . . And then I woke up.

"You look mmmmmarvelous this evening, Jade," I said in my best Billy Crystal, doing Fernando Lamas, impression.

"And you are `a hunk a hunk o' burnin' love,'" Jade sang with a grinding of her hips and then an encouraging squeeze of my hand. "Thank you very much." Suddenly I had visions of K.D. Lang doing Elvis!

"Shall we be off to An Evening at the Comedy Club or should we just stay here and fornicate?" I said with a smile.

Jade laughed and said, "You'll have to earn the right. I'm not going to be an easy conquest for you," she breathed as she put her sensuous arm under my jacket and around my waist. Then, she led me back onto the landing. "It might be awhile before you carve another notch on your gun," she teased, as her hand brushed my throbbing crotch when she reached to shut the door. She knew how to stir my `mojo.'

On our way to the comedy club on Santa Monica, Jade tried to coerce me into revealing the good news that I had promised her. So I told her some of the news. Bonnie Parker had phoned to tell me that she and her soon to be ex-husband had reached an amicable settlement. (Author's note: Bonnie Parker was the name of a transgender New York model in The Fame Game by Rona Jaffe.) Given the video evidence, there was no doubt that Frank Parker had been unfaithful. The divorce would be uncontested. Favorable child support payments were agreed upon. Although I had told her some of the news, I indicated that I would reveal the big news at the appropriate time, later in the evening.

I wondered what kind of news she was expecting or hoping for.

The whole experience with Jade/Kelly was rather surreal. Ever since she/he had come into my life, I had a hard time figuring out my own feelings. I had always been heterosexual in my outlook. Now, here she/he was sitting in my inconspicuous Toyota Camry, looking more beautiful than any girl that I had ever dated, and I was totally baffled by my feelings for her. In my previous dating experiences, I had been reluctant to commit to a serious long-term relationship. I was caught up in the search for the perfect woman - a soul mate that looked like a supermodel, cooked like my mother, raised my 2.7 children in an exemplary manner, pulled in 1000 g's a year, and humped the daylights out of me every night. Needless to say, I hadn't found her. Actually, Hollywood had already made a biographical film based loosely upon my life. No, it wasn't American Gigolo with Richard Gere. It was called The Lonely Guy and it starred Charles Grodin with Steve Martin.

The traffic on Santa Monica was very heavy. As we approached An Evening at the Comedy Club, I began to look for a parking spot. Unfortunately, there were no spaces available. Eventually we found a spot on a side street, about a five-minute walk away. Given the enchanting company, I didn't mind a leisurely stroll. Soon, on the marquee of the two-storey beige stucco building, we could see the names Ken Williams, Julie Arnotte and Forbes Jenkins. With fifteen minutes to go before curtain time on a Wednesday night, we didn't have a long line up at the box office, but we amused ourselves by looking at the stars' black and white glossy photos displayed on the walls. Many of the people in line smiled at us, giving Jade appreciative, admiring glances and a few awe-struck stares.

When we entered, a hush fell over the club. It was as if fair Jade was the sun and the patrons were daffodils craning their blossoms (and the pistils within) to receive the nurturing golden rays. "Who is she?" was whispered all about the crowded tables. I felt extremely lucky to bask in the glow of this vision of loveliness. Also, I noted that many of the women regarded me with respect for having such an enchanting escort.

The jaunty Broadway tune A Comedy Tonight started up. An energetic MC named Jonathan Lipshultz came onstage to warm up the crowd and introduce the comedians. Jade held my hand in anticipation of the first act.

Forbes Jenkins was a veteran performer who created a loud, obnoxious persona. His schtick' was audience participation, or audience alienation. He started out with a friendly greeting to unsuspecting victims in the front rows, and then proceeded to insult their clothing choices, their physical characteristics, their hometowns, their politics and their bed partners. One poor lady whom he nicknamed Nosey Nellie" must have been incensed by the Forbes Jenkins onslaught, but she appeared to take it in stride.

Ken Williams. Who was Ken Williams? Think of a younger Rodney Dangerfield-a guy who didn't get any respect. Ken was one of life's poor victims. His wife ignored him. His children believed Ken wasn't their real father. His co-workers didn't know who he was. Whenever he asked for service at restaurants and stores, he was the invisible man. Wasn't Kenneth Williams the wimpy actor in all those British Carry On movies from the 1960s?

He finished with a shot at baseball player Mark McGwire, he of the mighty muscles and record-priced baseballs. "Can you imagine Mark McGwire doing a commercial for McDonald's? He'd plug Big Macs. `Two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, androstenedione bun.' Now that would be a Big Mac attack!"

Jade gave me a look as if to say `I'd love to do comedy too'. Maybe she could.

Finally, Julie Arnotte took the stage to warm applause. She thought she was Ellen Degeneres incarnate. Julie made fun of men, societal conventions, heterosexuals and finding love. Before she got into show business, Julie had worked as a nurse. While on duty in Obstetrics, she witnessed the birth of an unusual child. She thought the correct term for it was a hermaphrodite. It had both male and female characteristics. The poor baby had male genitalia and . . . a brain. Another medical joke was "What is the term used to describe a male to female sex-change operation? A pre-frontal lobotomy." One of her other sex jokes was an observation about the advantages of masturbation-at least it's sex with someone I love. Didn't Woody Allen say that first? She closed with a routine about the suggestively sexy names of chocolate bars: Sweet Marie, Mounds, Almond Joy, Snickers, Mr. Big, M&Ms, melts in your mouth, not in your hands, Hershey, Wunderbar, Good and Plenty, Score, Malteasers, Eat More and Oh Henry! You should make up your own jokes here because I couldn't remember her whole routine. But, it was scrumptious!

As the enthusiastic crowd filed out onto the sidewalks and into the cool night temperatures, I put my arm around Jade's shoulder. She reciprocated with a warm arm around my waist. We talked about the positive aspects of the hilarious and some not so hilarious elements we had just seen. The atmosphere was warm and upbeat. It was a great beginning to what I hoped was going to be a memorable evening. Turning away from the bright lights of Santa Monica Blvd., we walked slowly back to my car.

Suddenly, jumping out from behind a parked car, a man brandishing a large knife yelled, "Give me your wallet! This is a robbery!"

Did crooks really yell that?

Jade looked startled and afraid.

The tall, lean man wore a dark blue Nike track suit, Air Jordans, and a blue and orange wool ski mask. He looked extremely agitated. His eyes were giant saucers. Perhaps the fellow needed a drug fix.

"Okay, buddy. Relax," I said. "I'm going to reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my wallet. Just relax."

I extended my hand to give him my slim wallet. He reached out to receive his booty.

Jade whirled into action. A lightning fast kick and the knife flew out of the assailant's hand.

"Shit!" he yelled.

Jade went to the attack, aiming a sidekick to the stomach. But the guy was quick and stepped back. I scrambled for the knife on the ground.

Outnumbered and disarmed, he turned around and ran. He was fast.

A few seconds later, he was already halfway down the street! A few more seconds and he was a distant memory.

"Are you all right?" asked Jade, as she extended a comforting arm on my shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks. How are you?"

"Fine. No problemo."

Jade was Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena: Warrior Princess and The Terminator all morphed into one.

We comforted each with a supportive embrace.

I felt like I had just watched a scene from the film Beverly Hills Ninja. I was the incompetent Chris Farley character who was constantly being attacked by bad guys. Chris or Haru needed to be protected by his brother ninja Gobei' portrayed by the master of disguise' Robin Shou. In one scene at a Beverly Hills Japanese restaurant, Chris posed as a cook serving steak and sukiyaki to suspected drug smugglers. When Haru messed up the flaming steak on the open grill, and was discovered, Robin Shou rushed to the rescue. He absolutely destroyed the crooks and the furniture. The remarkable martial artist, Robin, was disguised as a sexy female restaurant patron, nice legs and all.

Our dream date had gone off track.

Undaunted, I helped Jade up into my car. Once we settled into our seats, I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Spurred on by a mixture of fear, adrenaline and elation, she reached up with her left hand, pulled me tighter, and we French-kissed for what seemed like a half an hour. Reluctantly, we came up for fresh air, straightened ourselves out, and then we headed for the beach, specifically, Santa Monica Pier.

The Pier, at night, had an interesting amusement park atmosphere.

There was a classic, refurbished merry-go-round, a variety of midway games, fast food restaurants, caricature artists, souvenir shops, skateboarders, young families, fishermen and a myriad of crazy characters.

Arm in arm, Jade and I strolled along busy storefronts lining the elevated platform which protruded above the lapping waves of the Pacific Ocean, taking in all the sights, sounds, smells and atmosphere of the Pier. As it was cooler down by the water, I gave Jade my jacket to keep her warm. She huddled under its protective covering and I hugged her tightly. On a clear night with a half moon shining brightly and a gentle breeze wafting about the salt sea air, I could not think of another area I would rather be for a romantic stroll-at least in the Los Angeles area.

Near the end of the Santa Monica Pier was a rustic restaurant called Captain Cook's. While it did not serve the finest seafood nor did it have the very best furnishings, it had a great location, overlooking the water and the beachfront. Some golden oldies music played gently in the background. The place was half- full. Again, all eyes focussed on my precious butterfly as we made our way to a table overlooking the water.

Jade, it turned out, loved seafood. And since I have always loved shellfish of all types: shrimps, lobster, crab, scallops, clams and mussels - I couldn't have been more pleased with this restaurant.

We ordered drinks first, a dry martini for Jade and Mike's Hard Lemonade for me.

Later on, over shrimps, oysters, fries and garden salads, we finally settled into more serious matters. Like some serious cuddling and stroking of . . . egos. However, being in such a public place, we didn't let ourselves get too carried away.

"Jade, did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?"

"Yes, but I'm not used to hearing that, so tell me again anyway," she insisted lovingly.

"You are so beautiful to me." Oops, that sounded like a line from a song. `Ah, you're all I ever want, you're the kind I like to flaunt and take to dinner.' No, I needed something original and sincere. "When I am with you, I feel so lucky to have ever met you. You are always fun to be with, I never know what will happen next, and you are endlessly fascinating." Sincere, but not exciting enough and too formal.

"I . . . I wonder if beautiful girls hear this kind of stuff all the time."

"No, a beautiful girl has insecurities too. She's always wondering if the guy likes her just for her beauty or if the guy also appreciates the inner person?"

"So, do you like me because I'm beautiful or because I'm a nice person?"

"Always, I am initially attracted by a woman's beauty. But, to sustain my interest, a woman must have much more."

"Well, I'm a lady with something extra," she said, smiling at our little secret. Then she squeezed my thigh playfully, under the hardwood table.

"Uh huh."

We were among the last people left in the restaurant, as it was a weeknight. A familiar, love song came on the sound system. Andy Williams' gentle tenor crooned `Moon River' in the background

"Well, you've kept me waiting all evening. So what is the big news?" she asked.

"Jade, the important news concerns Miss Saigon."

"What? You found a promising lead? You've solved the case? We got paid up front? C'mon, what is it?"

"No, no, no."

"Please tell me."

"Okay, all right. You have earned a role in the musical."

Jade's eyes widened with anticipation.

I continued. "You have landed a leading role. You are the new Kim . . . Miss Saigon."

Jade rocketed upward, high into the air! She raised her arms as if to signal touchdown! The champion! Academy award winner! Gold medallist!

"Yes! Yes!"

Pure elation!

She reached over and hugged me! Then she smothered me with kisses!

"Oh! I don't believe it! Oh, I'm so happy!"

"You earned the part with your beauty, your charisma, and that incredible singing voice!"

"Oh, thank you, thank you, Dave. It's so wonderful!"

Then, as Jade came back down to sea level, she sat me down, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "I am so fortunate to have met you. Otherwise, I never would have landed this role. I mean that seriously. Think about it. Would I have gone for the role of the leading lady? When I was growing up, I dreamed of becoming the next Bruce Lee or the next Jackie Chan - not the next Miss Saigon!"

As we hugged, I had to agree. Who'd 've ever thunk it?

For the rest of the evening, I'm not sure Jade's feet ever touched the ground again. `Jubilation! She loves me again! I fall on the floor and I laughing.'

The oldies music continued over the restaurant sound system. The next song was Dream, Dream, Dream by the Everly Brothers, Phil and Don.

At closing time, we finally left Captain Cook's. I don't remember much about the route we took, but I do recall vividly that it was a long, romantic walk in the moonlight. I think Jade overloaded my senses. All I could remember was the feeling of ecstasy! Elation! Celebration!

Sometimes, when I hear a certain song on the radio, I am reminded of a cherished moment in my life.

`Two drifters, off to see the world,

There's such a lot of world to see.

We're after the same rainbow's end,

Waiting 'round the bend,

My Huckleberry friend,

Moon River and me.'

What a night!

CHAPTER SEVEN

With the casting complete, rehearsals roared ahead full blast.

The plot for Miss Saigon was based on a familiar story - the old Madame Butterfly tale was transported to war-torn Viet Nam in the 1970s. A musical written by Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schonberg, it was the story of boy meeting girl and east meeting west. The young soldier Chris encountered the innocent Kim in a Saigon bar. The adolescent Kim had been forced into prostitution at a young age by the death of her parents. Although reluctant to get involved at first, chaste Chris eventually succumbed to modest Kim's charms. Amid the chaos of the fall of Saigon in 1975, Chris was forced to leave the pregnant Kim behind. Later on, they were reunited . . .

Miss Saigon has never been a star vehicle for any performer. It depended on a large, ensemble cast working magic together to weave a multi-layered, textured story that raised everyone's hopes and dreams. There were brief solos; many of the key songs were duets. The play worked because of the combination of an involving story line, inventive yet soulful music and energetic, talented performers, who could sing, dance and act.

Jade was absolutely brilliant in the lead role of Kim. She was developing into a magnificent singer/actress. Each day, she developed more confidence and stretched her acting abilities beyond what she thought to be the limits of her talent. She exuded confidence. By contrast, Frances Poon seemed to have an early edge on Jade, but soon fell behind her. Frances did not grow at the same pace as Jade. Eventually, it became clear that Jade deserved the lead role on merit. However, Frances was a highly competent understudy. As for Frances looking too old for the part of the teenager Kim, Frances had a very young looking, unlined face, with a radiant skin tone. She was about five foot three, her diminutive size suggesting a younger age. Chronological age should not matter in the world of make believe.

However, to take full advantage of Frances Poon's impressive talents, Bob Donovan recast her as Gigi. This was a key role and Frances excelled as the dynamic, sharp-tongued hooker hustling for an American soldier to take her away from war-torn Saigon.

Another major decision concerned the role of Chris, the American soldier. The experienced Tony Award winning stage actor, Glenn Roper, was chosen. At first I was rather jealous. Glenn got to rehearse all these duets and love scenes with Jade/Kim. I could tell that Jade was attracted to him. Or maybe Jade was such a good actress that I couldn't tell whether the love interest was genuine or not.

Ryan Stock commanded attention as the pimp, known as the Engineer, he represented the desperate side of life in Saigon's disintegrating society, just before its capture by the Viet Cong. Ryan's character was one part carnival barker and another part wheeler-dealer. Did he have any redeeming qualities? Well, Ryan had a playful humor, a pleasing physical presence and he was quite popular with the ladies.

Director Bob Donovan was very demanding, but also very positive. His persuasive touch, his teaching ability, especially with the young, inexperienced cast members, worked wonders. Furthermore, his vision of the play made the songs come alive, the characters became poignant, real people that you could care about. Their hopes and dreams became your hopes and dreams. Their disappointments caused you to feel their dejection. Even though Miss Saigon was a musical, you could feel its universal appeal. Young unfortunate souls aspired to live the American dream, but ultimately fell short of a very tempting, almost reachable goal.

While all other aspects seemed to proceed fairly smoothly, the stage crew struggled mightily with the logistics of moving the helicopter down onto the stage, then lifting it off, and ultimately, out of harm's way, onto a solid platform offstage where it would be safe. The whole damned problem was that the spinning rotor blades created an unstable situation, exacerbated by the tremendous weight of the helicopter shell and the crewmembers that sat in the cockpit. There was a tangible fear of a major disaster unfolding with the helicopter crash landing onto some unfortunate cast members. The logistical problems created by The Phantom of the Opera's falling chandelier paled by comparison. A nagging suspicion about the sound and lighting crewman Allan Hale still tugged at me.

Ted Shorter dropped by the theater on many occasions. Whatever differences he had with Carroll Rosen hopefully had been patched up. He handled salary negotiations and dealt with the agents. Once that was done, he negotiated with advertising agencies to do the publicity. He worked out deals with program publishers, arranged appearances of the show's stars on local television, and a whole host of other minor deals.

But, on one occasion, I did hear Ted and Carroll argue. They agreed to disagree on the matter of the independent audit.

As for me, I was hard at work. After a visit to my local Spy Tech shop, I had enhanced our surveillance capabilities with motion sensors and tiny video cameras. The motion sensors would act as switches to activate cleverly hidden video cameras, so any vandal would be caught in the act red-handed. The high tech cameras were equipped with transmitters whose signal could be picked up within a 100-yard distance. The company-owned, specially equipped Ford Windstar van was parked in a newly rented parking space under the theatre. Each night, after virtually everyone had gone home, Wicked Wanda dropped by in her car, and entered the Windstar. She removed all of the videotapes and loaded in fresh ones, and checked over the electrical generator. At work, the next day, her assignment was to review the tapes. I figured I might as well give her a share of the work to do since we weren't able to handle any new cases.

The fact that the troublesome incidents had stopped pleased Carroll Rosen. But, we still couldn't catch the culprit. On the positive side, I was reimbursing Carroll for Jade's portion of the investigation costs. Jade earned her hefty diva's salary. Whatever I normally paid Jade/Kelly Lee was deducted from the private investigation fee. However, I began worrying about the consequences of this major role in Kelly Lee's life. How long would he/she remain working for me now that she was a star? Maybe I would have to offer Kelly a full partnership in the private investigation firm. Then again, the life span of a theatrical production was relatively short. And, generally speaking, Asian actors were not overburdened with multiple work offers in the theatre world.

Although Jade/Kim was initially attracted to the tall hotty' Glenn Roper, she gradually became disenchanted with him. The onstage romance scenes became ordeals due to the heavy groping. On many occasions, Jade/Kim told me she could feel Glenn's hard-on in the close clinches, when he rubbed his excited member directly onto Jade/Kim's sensitive' areas. Jade nicknamed him Glenn `the Groper' Roper.

As the rehearsals progressed, I approached Carroll Rosen about hiring one of Kelly Lee's friends. Jennifer Chiu was a talented makeup artist, dress designer and theatrical costumer. In fact, she had her own store on North La Cienaga Blvd. that she owned with her significant other. In the past, Jennifer had helped Kelly Lee develop his/her makeup skills and assisted him/her with creating the total illusion of a sexy woman. Did I mention Jennifer was transgendered? However, only her closest friends knew. Jade would feel much more at ease with Jennifer working as her makeup artist and dresser. Carroll agreed without even hearing my reasons for asking this favor.

On Jennifer's first day of work, I dropped by Jade's dressing room. Jennifer resembled Jade in some ways, although she was shorter and blessed with Pamela Anderson Lee type breasts. Facially, I could see a close resemblance between Jennifer's style of makeup and Jade's. They looked like sisters who shared the same makeup colors.

When I saw the two together in the leading lady's dressing room, Jade was getting Jennifer up to speed on all the cast gossip.

"Frances Poon, the poor darling, has been so nice to me. You know, she has been very helpful to me, with all her experience in playing Kim before. She's given me so many tips. If I were in her position, I know I would have difficulty in accepting the understudy's role again," said Jade.

"You shouldn't feel too bad about beating out Frances as the leading lady. Remember, Frances Poon has not had any major film, television or stage roles since she did Miss Saigon seven years ago," replied Jennifer in a husky voice. "But what about your leading man? That gorgeous guy, Glenn? What's he like?"

"Oh, at first, I thought he was soooo good looking! But, when he used his hands on' approach' at every opportunity, I found that I had to fight him off. But, Glenn the Groper' Roper finally got his comeuppance," giggled Jade, as she sat on a comfortable armchair amid the mirrors, costumes, makeup and wigs of her private space.

"What happened?" asked Jennifer, as she leaned forward on her wooden stool.

"Oh, that horny slimeball! I admit I kind of enjoyed the attention at first. But, when Frances told me Glenn was married, I began to despise him. He's such a lecher. After rehearsal, he'd come up to me, put his arms around my shoulder or waist, kiss me on the cheek, and then he'd ask me out to dinner. Or, he'd say he wanted to rehearse the reconciliation scene, where we seemed to kiss and kiss and kiss forever. The man is insatiable. Then, I thought up another nickname for him - the horn toad," cackled Jade wickedly.

"I think he's cute, even with his warts," insisted Jennifer with a laugh.

"So two days ago, I finally gave into his demands. I agreed to have dinner with him." Jade struggled to hold back her laughter. "After rehearsal, he takes me over to Sapporo Ichi Ban (Number One Son), one of those elaborately decorated Japanese sushi restaurants on Sunset. Anyway, you should see this place. It has a goldfish pond and a mini-waterfall. The `booths' are actually bamboo huts, kind of reminiscent of the huts on Gilligan's Island reruns. For the first five minutes, he's a perfect gentleman. Then, before you know it, he's touching my breasts and thighs, and I feel so angry, I feel like kicking him in the nuts. So, I excuse myself to go to the ladies room."

"Oh no, Jade, you didn't do what I think you did?" I interjected.

"Oh yes I did!" exclaimed Jade with glee. "I got the cell phone out of my purse. Using the phone number Carroll supplied for reaching Glenn's wife, I gave her a call. In a deep, Japanese-accented, male voice, I said, `Mrs. Roper, I want you come to Sapporo Ichi Ban on Sunset. Your husband has had much to drink. He creating quite a scene; he bothering some poor ladies here.'" Jade/Kelly's voice was so butch. "So, about 45 minutes later, we're having dessert, and Glenn thinks I'm his dessert. Slyly, I'm touching him subtly in all the right places. A playful caress on his inner thighs, a sibilant whisper in his ear about love, a passionate kiss or two, and he's all over me. His raging hard-on is about to split me in two and split the bamboo chair beneath me."

"Oh, you devil Jade!" squealed Jennifer with delight.

"Then, when he's practically ripping my clothes off, he suddenly stiffens, and I'm not talking about his cock." Tears of laughter were streaming down Jade's cheeks, ruining her mascara. "His wife is standing directly above us. If looks could kill, the both of us would have disintegrated under her death stare. Then he says, ever so smoothly, Hi honey, this is my leading lady, Jade. We were just rehearsing a key scene in the play.' Of course, she's not buying this lie. I say, Pleased to meet you. Excuse me while I go powder my nose.' I almost died with laughter. I left the poor sap with his very angry, almost homicidal, wife. Yes, there is a God! Maybe even a god of retribution! Thank you Lord for giving `the Groper' his just desserts!"

We went into convulsions and spasms of laughter. Then Jade continued.

"You should have seen him yesterday. All business! When I asked what happened, he kept his mouth shut the whole time and I enjoyed every moment of it. I told him how sorry I was that we got caught. I was so sorry that I gave into temptation, and the Lord had punished me. I felt so, so terribly distraught. I just prayed that his wife would forgive him. What a snake! He might have suspected me, except that his wife undoubtedly told him she got the phone call from a guy on the restaurant staff with a clipped Japanese accent."

Jade was laughing her guts out. I thought her heaving breasts were going to pop out of her low cut white top.

Then, Jade added, "As the rehearsals continued, I tried to be my seductive best. Every time we embraced, I rubbed my breasts across his manly chest; I grabbed his crotch and squeezed his cock and also his ass cheeks. I wanted him to shoot his cum into his pants while we kissed . . . Boy, revenge is so sweet! And you know, if `the horn toad' or his wife ever found out I had a cock just as big as his, we'd probably have to fight it out on Jerry Springer!"

"Seriously, Jade, what do you think would have happened if he had discovered your secret?" I asked with concern.

"He was so horny, he would've fucked a duck! Besides, I think, given the kinky types one finds in the theatre world, he probably would have loved making it with me even more than a woman because of the illusion factor! I am pure fantasy and actors love living the fantasy!"

I believed it to be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! So help me Jerry Springer.

THE MYSTERY OF MISS SAIGON II

Chapters 8 to 14

by l.satori

Laurie S.

CHAPTER EIGHT

With opening night less than a week away, there was an intensification of all activities associated with the Miss Saigon production. From the producer to the public relations people to the director, the stage crew, the set decorators, the wardrobe department, the choreographer, to the musicians and to the actors, all personnel worked frantically, desperately and joyfully.

I watched Bob Donovan put Jade, Glenn Roper, Frances Poon, and the other 20 members of the cast through their paces.

The musical numbers were rehearsed to the point that the words, singing and movement could be instantly replayed take after take.

The cleverly crafted sets transformed a bare stage into the run-down red light district of war-torn Saigon in the mid-1970s. Other notable stage elements were an old Cadillac and a statue of Ho Chi Minh.

Still, the defining stage effect of Miss Saigon was the army helicopter. It opened and closed the play in a spectacular way. And I worried every day if it would crash and burn!

Exotic wardrobe creations changed the plain performers into slutty, kinky habitues of back streets, bars, opium dens and houses of prostitution. Alice Head, the award winning costume designer, had little trouble in coming up with erotically stimulating clothes for the sexy young females in the chorus. The male clothing consisted largely of army uniforms and light summer suits or casual clothing appropriate for hot, steamy temperatures. Jennifer Chiu, Jade's costumer, designed both the sensual sluttywear of the innocent whore and the more chaste dresses of Kim, orphan, mother and hopeful American dreamer.

During a break from rehearsal, I made a point of sounding out Bob Donovan on what he thought about the cast's readiness.

"Oh, I think we'll make it, Dave," he said confidently. "I love both Jade and Frances. Either one deserves star billing. Jade has more raw talent, but Frances has refined her act. Jade has the edge in looks. They both have such powerful, pure vocal instruments. I'm not worried about the role of Kim."

"How about Glenn Roper?"

"You noticed I wasn't going to mention him. That's another story. At first, he seemed to have this wonderful chemistry with Jade. But somewhere along the line, he seemed to lose that special feeling. The love that Chris must express for Kim has to fill the auditorium or the audience will sense that it isn't real, that it doesn't exist. I've asked him to put his full emotions into it, but it's just not there yet."

"Yes, I've sensed that as well. His performance has been flat, rather uninspiring."

"He seems a little more at ease with Frances, but even she has told me Glenn hasn't warmed up to her."

"It could be that he's letting his marriage concerns interfere with his acting," I offered.

"Well, he'd better snap out of his lethargy or this production will flop like an out of gas helicopter."

After the break, Bob worked with understudy Frances in the role of Kim. This gave me an opportunity to chat with Jade who was walking offstage toward her dressing room.

Jade looked absolutely amazing! She was dressed in a dancer's leotard. My eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. They scrutinized her bulging bust, slim waist, slightly damp crotch area which seemed remarkably flat for this impostor, and long athletic dancer's legs.

Jade smiled. She knew what was on my mind.

"What would you say to a little afternoon delight, beginning right now?"

"Is Afternoon Delight the name of some kind of chocolate bar?" said Jade playfully. "But seriously, you'll have to restrain yourself," whispered Jade. "The rest of the cast doesn't know about the nature of our relationship, and they shouldn't."

"Yeah, I know. However, I can understand why Glenn Roper couldn't keep his hands off you."

"Yes, unfortunately that's changed. I'm afraid that Glenn's been snake bitten and he hardly speaks to me."

We continued on to her dressing room.

"Actually, we need to talk about that. It has become quite apparent that Glenn doesn't love you offstage or onstage. He's going to have trouble making the audience believe he is in love with you."

"Yes, I agree. But, how do I undo what has already been done?"

"Maybe we need to talk to Glenn's wife, Audrey Roper . . . And I've got an idea about what needs to be said."

Jade opened to door to her room, and we sat down. We took a moment or three for a passionate, Bull Durham-type kiss.

Jade pushed me away.

"OW! Stop it!" Jade exclaimed. "Don't get me excited! You have no idea how much a hard-on hurts when I'm constrained by tape. It's like trying to squeeze my `Willie' through the eye of a needle."

"Well, some of my lady friends were rather tight . . . Oh, I'm sorry. Sometimes I just can't help myself."

"You liar. Remember, I heard Carroll's comment when she was playing footsie with your Tootsie Roll at the Weenie Wagon."

"So getting excited hurts, does it?" I asked with an evil tone.

"Now, don't you get any ideas," replied Jade, with a look of mock fear. "I can whip your ass in a fight anytime."

"Oh, I so love being whipped," I said in a wimpy, submissive voice.

Jade gave me a playful shove.

"Hey, I've got a joke for you, Jade. You could relate to this one. How can you spot a blind man at a nudist colony?"

Jade looked dumbfounded. "I give up."

"It's not hard." An exaggerated guffaw followed. And I slapped my knee.

We paused a moment or two to let Jade's pain subside.

"So, let me guess. I have to confess to Audrey that I set Glenn up at the Japanese restaurant so that he would be caught. I placed the phone call to her. Then, I'll explain that I just wanted to teach him a lesson."

"Exactly," I agreed. "Although, as associate producer, I think I can play a role in this too. I can tell Audrey how Glenn's worrying has adversely affected his performance. Then, we tell her that his genuine remorse for his cheating ways has jeopardized the whole production."

"In other words, we tell the truth."

"Well, some of the truth. Maybe we could say you paid off a busboy at the restaurant to make the phone call to her. We don't want to give her even a hint about your dual identity."

"Okay, that's a good idea. And I'll have to say I led Glenn on, which is only partly true."

"As long as she forgives him and cuts him some slack, maybe he'll loosen up and act like he was back on Viagra again."

Suddenly, our chat was interrupted. Behind us, a clattering of feet on the wooden flooring caught our attention. Then, there was an impatient knock on Jade's door.

I opened it.

It was Ted Shorter, looking rather incensed.

"Dave, Jade, we have a problem! You have to see this! Somebody has damaged our cars!" said Ted angrily.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"In the VIP parking spaces, in the underground parking, our cars have all got flat tires! Some nut has slashed our tires!"

A little stunned, I asked, "All the VIP cars?"

"Yeah! Yours, Jade's, Glenn's, Carroll's, Ryan's, Bob's, Alice's, mine, and I think the one belonging to John Halliday, the theatre manager!"

"My new car!" squeaked Jade.

"Damn!" I added.

"Hey, I have to tell the others," said Ted as he headed off.

"C'mon Jade, let's have a look."

We headed over to the back exit, through the not so glamorous backstage area that theatre fans never see, that was piled up with stored paraphernalia from previous productions.

Below, in the parking garage beneath the Ahmanson Theatre, you could see the eight cars occupying the VIP spots. There was my Toyota Camry, with its front tires slashed. Jade had the back tires of her newly leased Mazda Miata flattened. Ted's Mercedes was riding low. All the vehicles in the VIP section had the pair of tires facing the access way damaged.

The phantom menace had struck again! Only this time, it was outside of the theatre proper and beyond the view of the hidden cameras.

"Damn!"

CHAPTER NINE

The next morning's rehearsals proceeded fairly smoothly, in spite of the controversy surrounding the vehicular vandalism.

All of the cars had been towed away and repaired before that afternoon's rehearsals were finished. That minimized the disruption, but Carroll Rosen did not need these extra costs. And I felt some pressure to solve the case as quickly as possible.

On the plus side, Glenn `the Groper' Roper seemed to be back with a passion! His renewed ardor might have been the result of a private discussion between Audrey Roper, Glenn's wife, and me the previous evening, at the theatre. I basically told her that her husband's restrained performance was quite noticeable. The chemistry between Jade and Glenn was non-existent and it was jeopardizing the show's success. Then, I told her about how Jade had set up her husband at the Sapporo Ichiban Restaurant, and how, in retrospect, it was a bad idea. I called Jade into the discussion at that time and Jade explained the whole thing all over again. Jade had felt harassed and had no interest in an affair with Glenn. But now, her working relationship with Glenn was barely tolerable. Throughout the whole discussion, I was worried that Audrey might assume that Jade wanted to have an affair with Glenn. However, Audrey knew that Glenn had had dangerous liaisons before with other leading ladies. Luckily for us, Audrey was an understanding person.

I don't know what Audrey had said to her husband that evening, but the old Glenn Roper was back!

On stage, Glenn acted like Jade was irresistible! The old spark between Glenn and Jade exploded like dynamite in a fireworks factory! Offstage, Glenn acted like Jade was irresistible!

Watching the rehearsal, I was sitting with Carroll Rosen 20 rows back from the stage; we discussed the `incident.'

"Do you have anything to report?" said Carroll bluntly.

"Unfortunately, I do not have any videotape of the `entire' incident. I found a large blade backstage among the tools used by the set decoration crew. The blade is used for cutting cardboard or paper, but it looks like the slash marks on the tires could have been made by this tool."

"What about fingerprints?"

"There are some prints, but I doubt that the perpetrator would leave his or her own. The ones that we find will undoubtedly match up with a member of the set construction crew."

I didn't mention that I had found Allan Hale's prints, among others, on the offending blade.

"Do you think somebody is trying to put suspicion on them?" asked Carroll.

"It certainly looks that way. Or maybe one of the crew has developed a hatred for somebody in the cast. I wonder if one of the crew resents our company of players. Perhaps one of the stage workers has been rejected by one of the performers in the past. Perhaps we'll have to pursue that angle?"

"The only actress involved in the previous Miss Saigon is Frances Poon. Maybe you should talk to her?"

"I need to for a number of reasons," I replied ominously.

"You know Dave, I was hoping you would have wrapped this up by now. The costs for this show are enormous. Vandalism expenses are not minor. The towing charges and tire repairs cost about $1800 yesterday. And then, of course, there is your fee."

"Yes, I know that you'd like this wrapped up as soon as possible. Whoever did this might be aware of the hidden security cameras."

"Oh, you've put in hidden cameras?"

"Yes, but they do not cover the whole theatre, unfortunately."

"You didn't tell me."

"We don't want people to know. The fewer people who know about the hidden camera locations, the better."

Carroll looked at me with a puzzled look, as if to say `Am I a suspect too?'

Trying to change the subject, I asked, "How are you and Ted getting along?"

"Ted was ticked off about the car damage. He suggested we hire some extra security. I couldn't very well tell him I already had hired private investigators without his knowledge because he's one of the suspects. Anyway, as usual, he took his anger out on me. It seems that everything that goes wrong can be blamed on me," Carroll said bitterly.

And now the heat was being shifted squarely on my shoulders.

We continued to watch the rehearsal for awhile. I paid extra attention to Frances Poon. Although she was the understudy to the leading lady, she had an important singing role as Gigi, one of the working girls. Whenever Frances would take on the role of Kim, the leading lady, another actress would take the role of Gigi. It made sense to have one of your best performers working rather than twiddling her thumbs as the substitute. Usually, Frances would be expected to play Kim at the Wednesday and Saturday matinees.

There was no doubt that Frances was a competent performer. She certainly made me believe she was a tough prostitute, one who had graduated from the school of hard knocks. The look of disdain for the young American johns certainly was convincing. Perhaps it was my imagination, but was that a look of jealousy I saw on Frances's face when Glenn and Jade kissed? I continued to watch Frances's every move, but I never caught that look of envy again.

At a break from rehearsal, I took the opportunity to have a chat with Frances. I felt like I was a heat- seeking missile approaching the target, as I intercepted her near the water cooler backstage.

"Frances, could I speak to you for a moment?" I asked.

A little surprised, she replied with a quizzical look, "Sure, Dave. What's up?"

"It's regarding the vandalism on the cars yesterday. I was just talking this over with Carroll. We were wondering about the sound and stage workers. It appears that one of their tools might have been used to flatten all the tires."

"Yes, but what does that have to do with me?" asked Frances with a touch of annoyance.

"We were thinking about one of the stage workers perhaps feeling angry at one of the cast players. Maybe he felt rejected by one of the girls in our company. I know it doesn't sound plausible, but we were wondering if you noticed any of the set construction crew taking an interest in one of the girls here?"

"Oh . . . not that I noticed. I mean those guys are friendly, but I haven't noticed much interaction between them and the girls in the show."

"That's what I mean. Do you think maybe one of those guys could resent this lack of interest in them and maybe vent their frustrations by doing destructive acts?"

Gee whiz. Did I sound like a police detective or what?

"I suppose that could happen. But, I never would accuse one of those guys. About the only guy I've talked to for any length of time is Allan Hale, but that's 'cause I remembered him from the previous Miss Saigon production, although George Gethers is another one of the sound and lighting crew who have been here awhile."

"Allan Hale you say. Thanks." We began to go our own ways and then I remembered in Columbo fashion, although without the aid of a rumpled old trench coat, and said, "Oh Frances, just one more thing."

"Yes?"

As I approached her again, she gave me a frustrated look.

"Where were you yesterday afternoon?"

"You already know I was here all afternoon and morning rehearsing, except for my lunch break. Are you trying to play detective?"

"Yes, an associate producer has to be worried about vandalism expenses, so I want to find out all I can. And did you speak to Allan Hale at all yesterday?"

"I think only to say hello in the morning . . . Is there anything more you'd like to ask?"

"No, that's about it."

As she walked away, I noted that she had deflected suspicion away from her onto Allan Hale. Or maybe I had. Also, regarding the scorned stagehand seeking vengeance scenario, the car of only one female cast member was damaged - that was Jade's vehicle. Frances could have pointed that out quite easily, that I should have questioned Jade as well. But, maybe Frances wanted me to follow a false trail.

Then, it occurred to me that I ought to check out the back exit now. Since the passageway to the outside smoking area was shared with the parking garage exit, I just might get lucky. Some of the smokers undoubtedly would be back there on their break. Perhaps I could find out who normally hung out there and ask if they had noticed anybody going into the underground exit yesterday afternoon.

CHAPTER TEN

Friday morning, I drove over to Jade/Kelly's place.

When he answered the door, he was dressed rather casually and rather ambiguously. Since I had seen Kelly in so many guises, it was hard for me to objectively assess his looks. Today Kelly wore a Dodger's baseball cap, dark Oakley sunglasses, his own short hair, no makeup, a long-sleeve blue cotton sweatshirt, black Levi jeans, and leather sandals. Slung over one shoulder was a large, black canvas bag. I wondered what people saw when they looked at him/her. Did they think this was a girl or a boy? Probably most would lean to thinking this was a boy because of the short hair and the lack of a bra.

Kelly was a little nervous about what was going to happen later on. This was photo day and Ted Shorter had also arranged for press kits to be prepared. That meant video interview clips and the preparation of program biographies and information packets for use by theatre critics.

Jennifer Chiu's designer clothing store was located on North La Cienaga Blvd. near Melrose. La Camouflage was not yet open at 8:15 a.m. However, Jennifer was expecting us and responded quickly when we knocked on the door.

After a quick tour of the beautifully arranged displays, mannequins, racks of clothing, sale signs and colorful kites hanging from the ceiling, she led us upstairs to a studio where Jennifer did a lot of her design work.

"Convenient, eh," I said in my Canadian accent.

"Well, my `husband' and I own the building, so it makes sense to use this space," replied Jennifer with a touch of pride.

Jennifer led us through an area populated by clothing dummies, sewing machines, rolls of fabrics, zippers, thread, snaps, buttons, bangles and bows.

Toward the back, there was a smaller room, which was quite different in character. Here was something that looked similar to Jade's dressing room at the Ahmanson Theatre. It had a makeup mirror with many light bulbs on the sides and top. On the counter were many different types of makeup and accessories- powder, brushes, lipstick, eye shadow, eyelashes, mascara, moisturizers, makeup remover, and more. There was a sink, which would be convenient for cleanup. On the other side of the room was a large three-panel mirror set which would allow you to see how clothing fit you on all sides. On the wall opposite the door was a large collection of many different styles and colors of wigs, all neatly displayed on wig stands. A barber style chair and two stools was about the only furniture. The ceiling above was dominated by a fairly large skylight, which provided plenty of light, even at this early time of the day.

"Wow! This sure beats my setup at home," said Kelly.

"This is my transformation room. It is for my special clients," volunteered Jennifer.

"I love it. No wonder you always look so perfect," complimented Kelly.

That was no lie. But Kelly wasn't referring only to Jennifer's makeup. This morning, Jennifer was dressed in a dark green, flowery silk dress that caressed her curvaceous figure. So many beautiful girls . . .

"Oh, I don't usually use this room for myself anymore, except for special occasions," replied Jennifer.

"Today is a special occasion for Jade, er Kelly," I said.

"Yes, I'm going to need to be at my very best for the photographers," added Kelly.

"Well then, let's get started," said Jennifer in her usual upbeat manner.

Jennifer flicked on her radio. It was a classical music station. Handel's Water Music gently filled the airwaves.

From a drawer, Jennifer extracted two light blue, cotton smocks.

Kelly removed his clothing except for his underpants. At 5'10+"and about 140 pounds, Kelly looked rather thin, although he had a good body tone. There was no flab at all. Also, he had very little body hair. His legs were smooth and his underarms had no masculine patch of hair. Jennifer threw a protective, cotton smock over him.

The first step was to give Kelly a close shave. Edge Gel and a Gillette Sensor Razor did the trick. This took about 10 minutes because the gel had to be fully absorbed to allow for the closest shave possible. Kelly did not have much of a 5 o'clock shadow. I'm not sure he could grow a decent mustache.

A moisturizing cream was blended into the skin with Jennifer's soothing touch.

Next, Jennifer spread a whitish covering called anchor woman blue' all over Kelly's face. This pasty substance was carefully blended into the hairline and over the neck, giving Kelly a kind of clown-like appearance. The foundation, a shade lighter than Kelly's natural color, was added. A darker shading was added below the cheekbones and also under the jaw line. A subtle touch of shading was dusted on the sides of Kelly's nose. Lighter highlights were applied to the forehead, the center of the nose and the center of the chin. The bags' under the eyes were lightened. And always, the makeup was blended with large, soft brushes.

Jennifer spent a lot of time on the eyebrows. Kelly did not want to pluck his eyebrows. So, Jennifer used some spirit gum, theatrical putty and powder to obliterate all traces of hair. A clear plastic eyebrow stencil was placed where the new thin, feminine eyebrow was supposed to be. Then, Jennifer placed some spirit gum over the stencil, and added small hairs with the aid of tweezers. She worked from the outside toward the middle, adding layers. Within five minutes, she had created thin, delicate, handcrafted "eyebrows". When the clear plastic pattern was removed, I could not tell Kelly's fake brows apart from Jennifer's real ones; they were perfect!

Dark shadow was strategically applied to emphasize Kelly's alluring eyes. A lighter shade below the outer arch of the eyebrows added `lift' to the eyes. Eyeliner along the upper lids and the outer part of the lower lids, plus Maybelline long-lash mascara, emphasized Kelly's alluring eyes.

Blush was applied to give color to the cheeks and Jennifer blended it in with a large, soft brush.

Using a pink lip liner, Jennifer carefully drew the bow shape around the edges of the lower and then the upper lips. A rose lipstick applied with a brush and then finished with lip-gloss, and Jennifer was almost done.

Jennifer removed Kelly's light protective smock. Kelly stood up, leaned forward, and pushed up the flesh of his breasts. Next, Jennifer placed 3-inch wide strips of moleskin tape from under Kelly's left armpit to the center of his chest. The procedure was then repeated on the right side. Jennifer explained to Kelly that moleskin was preferred to duct tape for two reasons. First, duct tape wasn't flesh colored. Secondly, moleskin could be easily removed with the help of spirit gum remover. The moleskin tape could absorb the spirit gum remover and easily peel off. To accentuate the positive, in the dark area between the breasts, Jennifer added a dark makeup to give the illusion of depth. A lighter shade was applied above the breasts to provide an illusory lift.

Kelly excused himself to go to the bathroom, which was the next door over.

I thanked Jennifer for her terrific work. I was very pleased with her amazing service and all this unusual knowledge that she was passing on to Kelly.

When Kelly returned, I was not ready for the next step. Kelly stepped out of his underpants.

"No peeping toms allowed," taunted Kelly.

Jennifer snickered. "They used to call Kelly `Long Dong Lee.' You know Kelly, you just might be as big as the Engineer, Ryan Stock. All the girls say he looks like he stuck a potato down the front of his pants."

"You want Ryan for yourself, don't you?" teased Jade.

"If you think I'll be saving Ryan's privates for you, think again girl!"

"Maybe we should call you Ivanna. Not like Ivana Trump, but The Spy Who Shagged Me character - Ivanna Humpalot!" laughed Jade.

I kept my mouth shut. I felt like I was sitting in a transsexual locker room. My quizzical expression asked `What's going on here?'

Jennifer read my mind. "Didn't you ever wonder how impersonators hide their private parts?" asked Jennifer in her low voice.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not have to find out what happens to their naughty bits?" I replied.

"You might have to do this yourself someday, Dave, " added Kelly. "Isn't that why you're here? To learn a little bit about makeup techniques?"

"I'm not sure that I will ever have to go this far," I said weakly.

"If it's any consolation to your male ego, you should know that Japanese martial artists used this technique in times of combat," offered Jade.

"What?" I said dumbstruck.

"Yes. A ninja master could retract his testicles. Therefore, in battle, a blow to the crotch area caused less pain," said Kelly, relishing my discomfort.

"Oh, so that's how you learned this trick, as part of your martial arts training?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"The first few times, yes. But after awhile, it hurts . . . just as much."

"I wasn't really aware of this particular aspect of the training. But, you can't retract your penis?"

"No, I don't think that's possible," laughed Kelly.

"I had mine removed," added Jennifer.

I think the two of them were trying to shock me, trying to impress upon me the daunting difficulties and the painstaking preparations involved in these transformations. Certainly, amazing abilities and skills were required. I just hoped that they weren't trying to persuade me to get into drag.

Kelly reached down and magically made his testicles retract into whatever cavity they had originally descended from prior to birth. How did he do that? I'm not sure. Then, he pulled his penis back. Flesh colored Moleskin tape was placed over it to hold it in place.

Jennifer handed Kelly a `Jane belt, pantyhose, fanny pads, a flesh colored spandex waist cincher, silicone breast forms, and a Wonder bra. Jennifer left the room for a moment, then returned from a nearby storage room, rolling a large clothing rack holding several garments and pairs of shoes. She handed Jade a jade- colored evening gown. It had thin straps that seemed to be incapable of holding up the dress. Fortunately, Kelly's prominent breasts seemed quite capable of suspending the dress all by themselves. Black shoes, a jade necklace and earrings and we were almost finished. The earrings were cleverly constructed so that Kelly's ears did not require piercing, although they did look like they had been pierced.

From the makeup counter, Jennifer took a bottle of perfume. She sprayed Poison into the middle of the room and Kelly stepped into the mist.

Finally, Jennifer had Kelly sit down once more. She stepped over to the wig shelf and selected a long, black wig with a gentle curl. She fluffed it out. There were four clips that she set in the open position. Kelly leaned forward. Jennifer placed the wig on Kelly's head and snapped the clips into place. Then, Kelly flicked his head back, and Jennifer brushed the hair into place, with a few deft touches.

Kelly rose out of the chair gracefully.

"Voila! Ladies and gentlemen, I present the sexy, beautiful Jade Lam, Miss Saigon!" announced Jennifer with a flourish.

If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed the mouse that had been Kelly Lee was now this princess of loveliness that set my loins afire.

"Now, Jade, that might be suitable for a glamour shot by the photographers, but we have your show costumes ready as well," said Jennifer with pride.

"Oh great!" gushed Jade, as she felt the material of a white linen gown hanging from the clothes rack.

"Let's take off the jewelry first, then your evening gown, and we'll try on these Miss Saigon outfits," said Jennifer.

"Yes, I'd love to."

The first gown was long and white and made of linen. It was high on the neck and had snaps similar to a that of a cheong-sam, with a kind of lapel-like covering drawn over to the right breast. It was slim in the waist and draped down below the knees, but it hugged Jade's lithe body and its clean lines were elegant, almost regal. The coloring and modesty of the dress suggested the waif-like innocence of the fresh-faced new arrival, Kim.

Another garment was more typical of a Saigon prostitute. It was a sexy, brash, skimpy, little black dress with a plunging neckline. It screamed, "Take me! I'm yours!"

There were two other gowns, which Jennifer had designed in consultation with Alice Head. Miss Head was a very generous and talented costume designer. She had given Jennifer the responsibility to conceive these sumptuous creations and she had lived up to the challenge.

"These are so lovely!" squealed Jade with delight. "I am so proud of you."

Jade hugged Jennifer and they exchanged kisses on the cheek.

"Thank you. But, I have such a lovely model for my clothes," replied Jennifer.

"These look so beautiful, I think a lot of people would like to wear these. Perhaps you ought to start a Miss Saigon line of clothing here at your store," suggested Jade.

"Now that I've got yours and Frances Poon's costumes finished, perhaps I will," agreed Jennifer.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I arrived backstage a few minutes after the dress rehearsal began. Carroll had hired an accountant to look into the books of The Rosen and Shorter Production Company. Since the accountant, Nathan Cohen, was a very busy man with many high-profile CEOs among his clientele, Carroll told me that I had to meet with him at his convenience. Of course, we had to find out whether Ted Shorter's dealings with Carroll's husband were all above board.

Whirling blades, the deafening sound of an aircraft engine, wind kicking up paper debris, a military helicopter alighted on the stage, a hatch opened and four men in military uniforms jumped out as they ducked their heads and scrambled away from the wavering chopper! One of the girls on the nearby street lost her wig in the whirling winds.

A dress rehearsal is not real life!

The hatch door closed and the helicopter rose slowly up into the curtains above the stage.

From my perch backstage, watching the stage crew working furiously to manipulate the pulleys, cables and counterweights to bring about a smooth landing, I could sense their relief that all had gone well from their perspective.

The orchestra took its cue and onstage rushed some additional singer/dancers.

Americans: The heat is on in Saigon.

The girls are hotter 'n hell.

One of these slits here will be Miss Saigon.

God the tension is high, not to mention the smell.

The heat is on in Saigon.

Is there a war going on?

Don't ask, I ain't gonna tell.

Engineer: Ah monsieur John you've come to win Miss Saigon.

John: I gotta get my friend laid as a last souvenir.

Chris: I love you pal but your bullshit I've had up to here.

Americans: The heat is on in Saigon.

But 'til they tell us we're gone.

I'm gonna buy you a girl.

Chris: You can buy me a beer."

The stage was a whirl of action as the dancers and singers rushed to and fro.

Then came a pause, a change in the pace of the music.

From one of the street cafes, came a wide-eyed innocent looking girl, dressed in a long white dress.

Kim: I'm seventeen and I'm new here today.

The village I come from seems so far away.

All of the girls know much more what to say.

But I know I have a heart like the sea.

A million dreams are in me.

Chris: Good Jesus, John, who is she?

Americans: The Cong is tight'ning the noose.

Is it a week or day or an hour we got?

Tonight could be our last shot.

Got to put it to use.

Girls: Tonight I bet that you and I will get along.

Forget about the threat, forget the Viet Cong.

American men: Mimi, Gigi, Yvette or Yvonne.

Gonna buy me a beer and elect Miss Saigon.

The music changed mood again and the male dancers milled about the sexy girls, trying to select their partners for the evening.

The creative team of Claude-Michel Schonberg, Richard Maltby and Alain Boublil were musical geniuses! They were the creative team behind Les Miserables as well.

So far, the dress rehearsal was proceeding smoothly. I could not believe how spectacular the whole production looked. This Broadway style musical bombarded you with splashy costumes, electrifying music, dramatic sound effects, athletic dancing, violent action, instantaneous set changes, and beautiful performers who could steal your heart without a hint of protest from you.

By the beginning of the second act, I began to relax a little. I could sense that the whole production was coming together. There was an almost imperceptible change in the confidence of the performers. The nervousness was replaced by exuberance. Maybe it was a trick of the lighting because the set somehow seemed brighter, the smiles on the faces of the performers a little more genuine, and the dancing more spirited.

I was falling in love with Jade all over again! If Chris the Marine could not love her, I'd certainly be willing to bring her back to America as my wife.

Below me I could see director Bob Donovan giving the dancers some encouraging pats on the back as they came offstage. He made a point of offering encouragement to every performer throughout the show.

I spotted only a few minor glitches. A few times, the orchestra was a touch slow in picking up the cue to begin. One actress stumbled on one of her lines. Glenn Roper needed prompting once. So far, Jade had been perfect! Oh, and I had almost forgotten about the wig being blown off Mimi's head by the power of the churning chopper blades! That had better not happen to Jade!

There were three times that the chopper had to descend onto the stage and then takeoff. Each time it was managed successfully, although on the last attempt, it was a little slow on the descent. It was rather reminiscent of a duck moving across the water. Above the water, the duck looked serene, but below water, it was a flurry of whirling webbed feet. Similarly, the stage crew worked frantically offstage to secure a smooth, routine helicopter landing onstage.

When the song The American Dream signaled the end of the show, a spontaneous round of applause shot up from all of the cast and crew!

It had been about an hour and forty minutes of magic!

I congratulated the stage crew for their great work!

Then I breathed a sigh of relief and descended from my aerie high above the stage, where I had been surrounded by scaffolds, stage lights, pulleys, cables, curtains, counterweights, and sound baffles. I felt like the Phantom of the Opera. I hoped to steal the star of the show away from the spotlight! I couldn't wait to congratulate Jade!

CHAPTER TWELVE

Opening night, my detective's intuition told me that the phantom menace would strike again.

Being short-handed due to budgetary restraints, Wicked Wanda, my faithful office manager/receptionist/secretary/typist/Girl Friday/accountant/payroll clerk/communications facilitator/gofer/interior decorator/video replay judge, was drafted into service.

Wanda assumed her position in communications central, the Ford Windstar, parked in the underground garage. The van had one 20-inch monitor, 10 small video monitors screens, accompanying signal receivers, 11 compact VCRs, an electrical generator, and a miniature walkie-talkie system. Dark impenetrable windows kept out prying eyes.

Jade and Jennifer arrived about an hour and forty-five minutes before curtain time.

They said hello to everyone in sight, hugging each and every person they saw!

No one said "Good luck!" or "Break a leg!"

I accompanied Jade and Jennifer to the leading lady's dressing room, putting a reassuring arm on Jade's shoulder.

As we entered, our smiles were suddenly wiped away!

Jade's beautiful costumes had been slashed to pieces!

"Aieeee!" screamed Jade.

"Oh no!" added Jennifer.

I grabbed a hold of one of the costumes. Her beautiful white gown was in shreds!

Jade checked the others. All of them, even those belonging to stand-in Frances Poon, were ruined!

Jennifer looked like she was about to faint!

"We've got to talk to Alice Head," I said. "Maybe she'll have some spare costumes."

"All my work! What a waste!" wailed Jennifer. She was almost in tears!

We all left to find Alice. The first place we checked was the main dressing room for the actresses. Then, we spotted Alice coming out of the bathroom. We told her what had happened. She said she wanted to see it for herself. So we immediately went back to Jade's dressing room. Alice immediately concluded that nothing could be salvaged.

Next, we gathered the brain trust together in Carroll's paper strewn office. We had to think fast! Time was wasting away and we needed a solution desperately! The five of us were jammed into the uncomfortably small room.

"Bob and Carroll, Ted and Alice, we have a serious dilemma. We have several hard choices to make. If you don't already know the bad news, I can confirm that all of Jade's costumes have been destroyed. Somebody is out to wreck our show! But, should we postpone the show?" I asked. "Or should we try to scrounge up some other dresses and carry on?"

"We don't have anything suitable for Jade," said Alice immediately. She's rather tall by comparison to the others in the cast. I doubt that any other person's costumes will fit. In fact, I know they won't."

"Well, what about Frances Poon's dresses?" asked Carroll.

"Those have been destroyed as well," replied Alice. "However, I could possibly use some of Frances's other costumes. After all, she plays Gigi too, so those could be used. We could go ahead with Frances as Kim, but all of Gigi's dresses are made for a sexy hooker, not for the more innocent Kim. "

"Now wait a minute. On opening night, you can't replace the leading lady," protested Bob. " Jade would be heartbroken! Not only that, the audience is expecting this new phenom! The critics expect her too! Jade is Kim. You have to fix the problem, Alice."

"I agree with Bob," said Ted bluntly. "Her name is on the marquee. She has to appear. My god, it's opening night!"

"Can you not find us some other dresses?" asked Carroll as she looked straight at Alice.

"Jade is tall and thin. None of the other girls have her physique, her dimensions," explained Alice.

At that moment, I could feel my cellular phone vibrating in my pants pocket. I pulled it out quickly.

"Hello?" I whispered, as the others continued conversing.

"Dave, it's me Jennifer."

"What's up?"

"I think I might have a solution for you, Dave."

"All right! What do you have in mind?"

"I'm in Jade's car. I'm on my way to my shop, La Camouflage," said Jennifer.

She must have been using Jade's cell phone and the speed dial feature. Otherwise, I don't think she'd have known my number.

"Oh, good. Do you think you have some dresses Jade could wear?"

"I've got some off the rack styles that might work," affirmed Jennifer. "Also, I have a duplicate of one of Jade's dresses at the shop - you know, that white one you seemed to like so much."

"Great! Can you get back in time?"

"That shouldn't be a problem. But, Jade will have to do her own makeup."

"I think she can manage that. Thanks Jennifer. Well see you later!"

By now, all eyes were focussed on me.

"Jennifer is on her way to her shop to get some replacement clothes for Jade. We've got an hour to curtain time. From North Grand to North La Cienaga, that should be possible. I think we've found our solution!"

"Great! How everything seems to work out in the end is a real mystery," said Carroll.

Somehow that sounded vaguely familiar. Where had I heard that before?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Show time!

The sound of a helicopter grew louder and louder . . . then faded. A flourish of music, gongs, drums, and the dark set was suddenly lit. The stage was alive with people moving along a busy street in Saigon. Dreamland was the name of a bar that catered to American servicemen looking to get drunk and/or laid. The beautiful young bargirls were preparing for tonight's contest-to see who would be elected Miss Saigon. The winner would be raffled off as a prize. Frances, playing the role of Gigi, emerged as a hardened, wisecracking working girl.

Girls: Tonight I will be Miss Saigon.

Gigi: Tonight you'll be Miss Jumped Upon.

Girls: I'll win a G.I. and be gone.

Gigi: He'll screw you with your crown still on.

Mimi: What happens when the Cong attack?

Gigi: They'll rip the hot pants off your back.

Girls: You're VCO, we're based in black.

Yvette: Is this is the way you make a chest?

Gigi: Hey give that virgin act a rest!

Girls: You are my first American.

Ryan Stock played a pimp known as the Engineer. He encouraged the bargirls to work the Americans, to entice away their cash for the ladies' stash. He represented the greedy, sleazy elements of Vietnam's corrupt society.

Engineer (Pimp): Allez, allez, allez,

Why does it take all day?

Get your asses onstage,

I'm raising cash tonight.

Girls: Tonight I will be Miss Saigon.

Engineer: Can you sell a few passports standing at the bar?

Girls: Tonight I will be Miss Saigon.

Engineer: Each day these little buns of yours are worth less and less.

Rake in the dollars now before the market falls too far.

Who do I got out here?

I can still engineer.

It's like the old days my little gamines,

You know who's out there, a gang of marines.

We'll clean them out the American way,

To some degree they don't care what they pay.

(Jade/Kim, wearing a white gown, approaches the engineer.)

Engineer: Why are you in that dress?

Ah my new princess . . . Ah yes!

That bridal gown gives you some class.

Lower your eyelids as you pass.

Men pay a lot for virgin ass . . .

Allez, allez, allez!

Get out, give me your song

Don't make the show too long.

Onstage welcome to . . .

Dreamland!

When Jade made her entrance, I felt a great sense of relief. Jennifer's design looked lovely. Jade's soaring vocals and her luminous, charismatic presence bewitched the spellbound spectators.

From my usual perch high above the stage, I watched with intense interest as the singer/dancers, launched into The Heat Is On In Saigon, which so knocked me out during the dress rehearsal. It was the song that established Jade/Kim as an innocent, orphan girl dragged into prostitution. Chris, the American marine, fell for Kim at first sight.

Then Frances Poon, as brash Gigi, crooned the next number, The Movie In My Mind.

Gigi: They are not nice, they're mostly noise.

They swear like men, they screw like boys.

I know there's nothing in their hearts.

But every time I take one in my arms it starts,

The movie in my mind.

The dream they leave behind,

A scene I can't erase, and in a strong G.I.'s embrace,

Flee this life, flee this place.

The movie plays and plays.

The screen before me fills.

He takes me to New York.

He gives me dollar bills.

Our children laugh all day.

They eat too much ice cream

And life is like a dream.

Dream, the dream I long to find,

The movie in my mind.

I will not cry, I will not think.

I'll do my dance, I'll make them drink.

When I make love it won't be me.

And if they hurt me I'll just close my eyes and see.

Occasionally, the hooker's mask slipped to reveal the terrifying, nightmarish realities of life within a war-torn society.

Yet, what kept these girls struggling on a day to day basis, was the fervent hope that their life would get better. Their dreams, inspired by the stories told in Hollywood films, kept them alive.

Jade/Kim: The movie in my mind, the dream that fills my head.

A man who will not kill, who'll fight for me instead.

He'll keep us safe all day so no one comes at night.

To blow the dream away.

Dream, the dream I have to find,

The movie in my mind.

Girls: And in a strong G.I.'s embrace,

Flee this life, flee this place.

Kim: A world that's far away,

Where life is not unkind,

The movie in my mind.

The Movie In My Mind established the desire of the Vietnamese girls to have American soldiers fall in love with them and take them back to the United States.

Jade as Kim and Frances as Gigi were simply brilliant! Their sensational voices blew me away! The enthusiastic crowd loved them!

Glenn was absolutely convincing as the love-smitten marine.

I could sense the audience was drawn in by the story line. Unlike some other musicals, I could follow the lyrics and the plot line easily. It was a familiar story. On the other hand, I wondered if Madame Butterfly was the only Asian story that Western audiences could relate to.

Nevertheless, the spectacle was entrancing!

I started to relax. I didn't even worry about the helicopter crashing. Why everything seems to work out in the end is a mystery.

Three curtain calls! Four standing ovations!

We had a hit! I was sure of that!

Every performer was walking on air!

I virtually flew down to the stage to congratulate everyone!

Everybody was so excited!

There was great joy in our hearts!

This was a night to celebrate!

I hugged and kissed Jade! I embraced Jennifer! Hell, I kissed and hugged everyone in sight!

This was a night to celebrate!

This was even better than sex!

(Okay . . . maybe I got a little carried away there.)

Carroll Rosen had arranged for a cast party at her place in Malibu. Everyone had to go! Performers lived for moments like these!

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Prime oceanfront in Malibu is rather scarce. Carroll's home, while not huge, was comfortable. Spread over three storeys, the tastefully decorated house was spacious enough to hold the entire cast and crew, but intimate enough to maintain the energized atmosphere for the excited players. Also, the ocean view was a constantly changing scene that anyone would love.

A DJ had been hired; the music was rocking. And considering that these performers could earn a living by their dancing, I could say I saw inventive moves I had never seen before. Furthermore, I noted that all the dancers had great bodies. They were absolutely gorgeous! I was beginning to believe that non-show business people were children of a lesser god.

Jade pulled me onto the dance floor. Jade moved to the music of Livin' La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin! Wow! Jade's movements were so fluid, rhythmic, suggestive . . . mesmerizing. She wore a classy, flowing, summer dress that revealed enough to be sexy but left a lot to be filled in by the imagination. Another one of Jennifer Chiu's designs. There was so much to admire about this beautiful butterfly. And when Shawn Colvin's Sunny Came Home started, I pulled Jade up close, and it just felt so right. I could have held her in my arms forever. I could have danced the whole night away.

"You were so wonderful tonight, Jade!" I exulted above the music.

"Thank you, Dave," she breathed, as she moved closer and we danced cheek to cheek. Fully aroused, she managed to put a dent across my chest and I put a dent in her crotch.

"I think a star is born. How does it feel to be the leading lady in a hit musical?"

"I've never gotten a bigger high from performing. This feeling could be addictive."

"Maybe this is your destiny - to become a big musical star?"

"I wish it were true. But, what about my secret identity?" she whispered into my ear.

"I won't tell if you won't tell."

It wasn't much of an answer. Cinderella was actually Cinderfella. Hell, I didn't even know if I could accept Jade's sexual identity, never mind whether the general public was ready to accept a transgender star.

Perhaps, like Kim and Chris in the play, we would be star-crossed lovers. Maybe circumstances would keep us apart.

We continued to dance the next few songs, oblivious to the other dancers and other party guests. But, eventually, we had to mingle with the other guests. We did not want to be perceived as snobs.

I noticed Jennifer "Ivanna Humpalot" Chiu was dancing with Ryan Stock. I wondered if they would hit it off.

"Carroll!" I yelled, as I spotted our delectable hostess wandering by the hors d'oeuvres table.

"Hi Dave!"

"Nice place!" I exclaimed as I glanced around the tastefully decorated interior, from the maple flooring to the leather sofas and to the exquisite art. But the furniture paled by comparison to our hostess. Carroll was elegantly dressed in a flowing white gown that was draped over her magnificent figure.

"Why thank you. I'm glad you like it."

"You've got a hit musical! A winner!"

"You think so?"

"Definitely. Tonight, everything was absolutely perfect."

"We'll have to see what the critics say."

"Mark Hagerty, the Los Angeles Times theatre critic, isn't he the one that matters?"

"Yes. And we'll know in a few hours."

"But, the Los Angeles Times doesn't come out `til about 5 or 6 a.m."

"Yes, but Ted Shorter has a contact down at the Los Angeles Times. Ted says we'll get a fax in about an hour."

"Great! I hate being kept in suspense."

"Speaking of suspense, Dave, did we ever find out who shredded Jade's costumes?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, my assistant Wanda has been making up extra copies of the incriminating video evidence even as we speak. Carroll, I want you to gather all our prime suspects together, and meet me in your downstairs recreation room in about twenty minutes."

"All right. This I have to see."

"You will. You will. I promise." I tend to repeat myself when I am uncertain or lack confidence.

I went back outside. It was noticeably cooler down here by the ocean at night, especially with the effects of El Nina. I wandered down the road a short distance. Wicked Wanda opened the Windstar as she spotted me approaching. She was dressed comfortably in beige skirt/shorts (skorts) and a black t-shirt. But it was the way Wicked Wanda filled the outfit that turned the ordinary into the extraordinary. In spite of the long, boring hours cooped up in the van, Wanda still looked fresh and appealingly sexy.

"How are you doing, Wanda?"

"Good, Dave."

"So, what have we got on the video tape?"

"We have the criminal, caught red-handed, all cued up and ready to go."

"Excellent! So, is this a wrap? Can we send in the fat lady to sing?"

"It's all over."

Wanda started the tape rolling. The monitor came to life. Within a minute, I had all I needed to know.

Wanda handed me another copy of the mini-cassette with the adapter.

"By the way, I've got the whole Miss Saigon performance on tape as well. Do you want that too?"

"Sure. Thanks a million, Wanda. You've certainly earned your keep tonight. There will be a little bonus for you on your next paycheck. I really appreciate all you've done. I know you've been stuck in the van for such a long time. You can go home now."

"What a relief! Goodnight Dave."

We kissed goodnight, and then she took off.

I thought it would be inappropriate for me to ask her into the cast party. There was a special bond that was formed among the cast and crew and I wasn't about to tamper with it.

By the time I reached Carroll's downstairs recreation room, Carroll had already gathered about 6 people together. I noted that the guilty party was there among the assembled guests.

I walked up to Carroll and whispered into her ear. We had a confidential discussion. When we had reached a consensus, we departed from our original plan of revealing the criminal Poirot-style in front of the assembled guests.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here is a recording of your performance tonight," I announced. "You might want to tell your colleagues about this. They might want to watch along with you."

I inserted the cassette, hit the play button, turned on the giant screen, and stepped back.

Carroll drew aside one of the guests. We marched up two flights of stairs to Carroll's well-furnished, spacious master bedroom. Once inside, we closed the door and Carroll had a brief chat with our special guest, consisting mostly of congratulatory comments about tonight's performance. Looking around the bedroom, I noted that Carroll must have enjoyed watching television in her bed. There were no chairs around. I walked over to her TV/VCR, and inserted the other tape that Wanda had given me.

"Please, have a seat," said Carroll, and then we all sat down on the edge of her bed, close to the TV/VCR.

"I suppose you know why we are here," I said as I hit the play button on the remote.

We all watched the monitor. The screen image showed the door to Jade's dressing room opening. The uninvited visitor went up to the show costumes, as if to admire them. She held up the dress to her body, then looked in the mirror. Then, she took off her own outfit and tried on the dress. It fit perfectly. Disrobing, she put back the costume and put on the outfit. Then, she reached into her very large handbag and extracted a pair of scissors. A look of determination overcame the expression of uncertainty. She viciously, wildly cut up her white dress. After shredding the first gown, she held up another dress, and continued to snip away madly. At one point, in frustration, she put aside the scissors, and with both hands, she ripped the dresses apart!

Tears started to flow as she attacked the next outfit. Conflicting emotions tore her asunder.

In Carroll's bedroom, Frances Poon was heartbroken. She was crying again, sobbing uncontrollably.

Carroll Rosen put a comforting arm around Frances.

For a few minutes, nobody said anything.

Finally, after gathering her composure, Frances spoke up quietly.

"I hope you can forgive me," she said. "I wanted so badly to have the role of Kim. I wanted to be Miss Saigon. I have struggled for so long without any luck at all. I thought if I could be Kim on opening night, the good reviews would help my career. For the past six years, my career has been stone cold." She resumed her crying.

Carroll tried to console Frances.

"Frances, you made a great Gigi tonight. You know we have a hit! And we owe a lot to you. I'm sure you'll get favorable mention in the Los Angeles Times review, I'm sure of it."

"Listen Frances, Jade said she learned so much from watching you. She has a very high opinion of your talent," I offered.

Frances stopped sobbing.

Carroll took the lead, giving me a subtle signal to leave.

Actually, I was relieved to get out of there. I didn't know where to go next in that situation. As I saw it, prosecuting Frances for vandalism was not a good solution. But, to do nothing, was also not acceptable. The decision ultimately was Carroll's - not mine. Perhaps some counseling would be helpful. A little time off from her role and some psychiatric attention might be enough to steer Frances Poon's career back on track. Besides, I trusted Carroll's instincts and she seemed to have more empathy for Frances than I had shown. Perhaps, it was because my loyalties lay with Jade.

I returned to the recreation room. A much larger crowd had gathered around the large screen. They were applauding enthusiastically! They relived each and every move, nuance and note. I found myself getting caught up in their performance all over again.

Suddenly, Ted Shorter came dashing into the room. "Listen everybody, the Los Angeles Times review is here. I've got the fax."

The other people who had been on the main floor followed him into the recreation room.

Ted took great delight in being the center of attention, the bearer of great news!

"The headline reads `Miss Saigon Triumphs!'" exclaimed Ted.

"Yeah!" "Yes!" "All right!" There were whistles and cheers from the others.

"From the first helicopter sounds that swell from a distant mutter to a theatre-enveloping roar, to the final scream of anguish and denial, Miss Saigon engages the heart and stuns the eye."

"Miss Saigon is a triumph of popular theatre," read Ted. "It's a knockout, but the best punch is the performance of Jade Lam as the beautiful, innocent waif Kim. This luminous goddess won our hearts with a smashing debut as the real Miss Saigon."

There were cheers all around.

Ted continued reading from the review. The critic lavished praise on handsome Glenn Roper as Chris, energetic Ryan Stock as the Engineer, and the stunning Frances Poon as Gigi. Phrases like stylish breakthrough' and most heartfelt first night ovation' and `the definition of perfection' were sprinkled about the article.

The Mark Hagerty review praised the inventive, sometimes shocking lyrics, the outstanding musical score, the dynamic choreography, and the crisp direction of Bob Donovan. There were no criticisms- absolutely none.

"This is a powerful piece on musical theatre . . . this is showmanship on an extraordinary level of intelligence, expertise and passion," continued Ted Shorter as he read the review. "It is an unforgettable union of dance and spectacle. Musicals will come and go, this musical will stay."

Again there was a roar of cheers and applause.

I pulled Jade away from the throng, and we stepped outside onto the beach, for a few private moments. The Pacific Ocean was about thirty yards from Carroll's living room window.

"Feels great, doesn't it?"

"It sure does. I'm on such a high. It feels like I could walk on the water out there," suggested Jade, with a glance toward the ocean.

I put my arm on her shoulder.

"You never fail to amaze me," I said earnestly. "You are so talented. You can sing, dance and act. With the kind of review you got tonight, you could find a lot of doors opening for you in show business."

"That thought did occur to me," confessed Jade. "But, I have enjoyed working with you so much, I'd hate to change that. Also, the private investigation has been so much fun. It's been so exciting! For example, this case has been a real blast!"

"We almost had a disaster tonight. If it hadn't been for Jennifer, you might not have had any costumes to wear. Your debut could have been ruined."

"Yes, but doesn't it feel great to face a crisis and pull through it with the help of your friends. Helping each other, I think that's what life is all about."

"Well, did you know we solved the case tonight?"

"We did? I guess those hidden cameras caught the crook . . . with the help of Wanda. Let me guess . . . it had to be Frances, right?"

"Yup. How did you know?"

"She stood to benefit the most from my costumes being destroyed."

"But, her dresses were also ruined too," I pointed out.

"Right, but she could have worn her `Gigi' dresses. However, that wasn't the only reason I thought it was Frances. Call it woman's intuition, a sixth sense, a gut feeling, ESP, whatever you like . . . "

"A woman's intuition?"

"Also, I saw you and Carroll sneak off together with Frances in tow, so I figured that something was up," said Jade with a laugh.

"Well, I have intuitive feelings too, and they say that Carroll will not press charges against Frances. So I think we should keep this quiet."

"No problem, but why do you believe Carroll will not have Frances arrested?"

"If this gets into the papers, the negative publicity could be damaging to the success of the play. Besides, we only have proof that she destroyed the dresses. The falling stage light, the damaged sets, the slashed tires, all of that-we can't prove. The likely punishment for a first offense, the shredded dresses, would be a fine. What good does that do for Carroll's production? Besides, Frances was terrific as Gigi! She's an asset, not a liability."

"I see your point."

"Perhaps Carroll can get Frances some psychiatric help. It seems like everybody in show business knows a psychiatrist. Besides, I don't think Frances is an evil person; she's just trying to make a career for herself."

"Isn't it weird though. Maybe if we hadn't been called in on this case, Frances Poon would have been Kim, instead of me. In a way, she caused her own problem. I wouldn't have auditioned. She created her own bad karma."

"Actually, I doubt that she would have been the leading lady. It seems to me that Frances had been pigeonholed as an understudy. To hear Ted Shorter talk about it, they even tried to bring back the old Miss Saigon, Lea Soraya. I don't think that Frances was given a fair shake." And then I remembered something else about the first Broadway production. "If I'm not mistaken, back in about 1991, when Miss Saigon first went on Broadway, there was a protest by Asian-American actors. Miss Saigon was using non-Asian- Americans. Some of the stars were imported from the London hit musical production."

I didn't think America was quite ready for a transgender Miss Saigon. What would happen if Jade/Kelly's real identity were discovered?

We sat down on the sandy beach and watched the waves roll in. I put my arm around her waist and held her tight. It felt so right to be together with Jade.

"So Dave, now that the case is solved, where do we go from here?" asked Jade.

"You aren't going anywhere but up. You will be Miss Saigon for the duration of this hopefully, long and successful run."

"But what about my work with you?"

"I know being a private detective can't compete with show business, although being a performer certainly has its advantages and disadvantages. Undoubtedly the emotional highs are not really the same in any other profession I can think of. The applause and adoration of the crowd in a theatre has to be as rewarding as any job could possibly be. I don't think I could offer anything that could come close to that. But, I don't really want to lose you . . . The best I can do is offer you a full partnership in the detective agency."

"Amazing! That sounds more attractive than you know . . . after just four months on the job, a full partnership." Jade whistled as a kind of exclamation point to this suggestion.

Jade put a reassuring arm around my shoulder and she pulled me a little closer.

"You know, I've had a few girlfriends in my time, but I don't think I've ever known anyone as fascinating as you."

I kissed her, hopeful that she would accept me.

She responded with hot, sensual passion! We were swept up by an insatiable hunger for each other.

For a moment, I thought of the film From Here to Eternity, which starred a young Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr. In one memorable scene, they were making love on a beach. They engaged in the hottest kiss in the silver screen's history, rolling around on the sand, while the powerful surf crashed over their flailing bodies.

"I'd love to be your partner, Dave."

"I . . . love . . . you."

She responded with a deep kiss.

"I love you, too . . . although I guess I could have said ditto instead," she needled.

We laughed, having exorcised our Demi Moore film Ghost of movies past, and we resumed our necking.

Over the next few hours, we continued to explore each other's feelings and beliefs.

Jade talked about the influences Confucianism and Buddhism had on her way of life. She believed in the inherent good nature of mankind. She discussed the book The Tao of Physics. She described how Zen had changed the way she lived each moment.

"And Dave, what do you believe in?"

"Ah . . . I don't believe in quantum physics when it comes to matters of the heart . . . Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high-fiber, good Scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Harvey Lee Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a Constitutional Amendment outlawing astro turf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve. And I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days . . . and I believe in you."

"You're full of Bull . . . Durham," she replied.

We sat on the beach and watched the sunrise together. Unfortunately, since this was the West Coast, the sun rose over Malibu's scrubby, coastal hills. Nevertheless, the new dawn brought a whole new world of possibilities.