The District Attorney: A Novel by John Ellsworth

Author:John Ellsworth [Ellsworth, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Ellsworth Books
Published: 2020-04-20T22:00:00+00:00

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Lettie called Friday evening and made arrangements to meet her mother and stepfather Saturday night at Nivens. It was a four-star steakhouse on Hollywood Boulevard, a place that was said to often feed the cast of the The Irishman while scenes were being shot on the soundstage. Ralph Warden loved the restaurant, her mother said when Lettie told her she’d already made reservations for three. What, no Ryan? her mother asked. No, Ryan was going to give her a night off so that she might catch up with her mother without a five-year-old.

However, Ryan drove Lettie to the restaurant and parked at the very rear of the lot, where there were no other customer cars that early in the evening. He would wait while Lettie went inside. Meanwhile, in San Diego, Alan was spending the weekend with Ryan’s parents.

She was wearing khakis and an untucked silk blouse meant to be worn casually. She carried her bag and inside it she had pepper spray. She knew she wouldn’t need it, after Dr. Cervantes said a public place would all but guarantee her safety. But Ryan insisted, so there she was, fully armed, as it were.

She went inside at 5:45 and was shown to their table. There, she ordered coffee and ice water. The drinks arrived, she doctored the coffee with half-and-half, and sat back, facing the door.

They came inside at six o’clock straight up. Her mother was wearing a cotton suit with a red hat and a Hermes scarf and a coral pin. Warden, her husband, wore black slacks, a white and black shirt, and black-and-white shoes. She was tall, like Lettie, but very thin as if anorexic. Her face and arms were pale, but she was smiling once she saw Lettie. She led off, taking Warden to their table. Warden acted nervous as he reached to hug the still-seated Lettie and she dodged by moving left in her chair. She doubted her mother noticed as she was busy hanging her purse from her chair and fussing with her jacket.

The waiter arrived again; he again took drink orders. The mother wanted a Riesling wine, Warden ordered scotch, and Lettie stuck with her coffee. Small talk ensued, centered mainly around the decorating challenge of Alan’s room—what do you do with a five-year old’s room? The mother had found a gray elevated bed with short ladder on the end, from Pottery Barn, on sale for $1322, but Lettie wouldn’t hear of it. “He’ll only jump on it and break the trundle drawer,” Lettie told her, nixing the idea. “If you really want to get him something, check out Wal-Mart. The drawer glides are plastic, but you can get him something Pottery Barn-ish when he’s older.”

Dinner was ordered. Salmon, Porterhouse, and sirloin tips as they went around to Lettie. Baked potatoes and dinner salads, plus wood-fired veggies, completed the order. Again, more small talk, this time Warden recalling his visit to the Lakers game against the Clippers. Everyone in Hollywood loves that game, he said, and even Nickelson was there.

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