Another City, Not My Own by Dominick Dunne

Author:Dominick Dunne [Dunne, Dominick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Reading list I
ISBN: 9780307815095
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2012-02-08T05:00:00+00:00

Early on, when the trial of Heidi Fleiss, the Hollywood madam, was the talk of the town, Gus had written in one of his “Letters” that Heidi Fleiss would probably do more jail time for her victimless crime than O. J. Simpson or the Menendez brothers for their double murders. He meant it cynically, but he meant it. Heidi had been touched by what Gus wrote, and a meeting between them had been arranged.

When she arrived a few minutes late at his table in the garden of the Bel Air Hotel, he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t have the nerve, that he never would have taken her for a madam. Her predecessor in the role, Madam Alex, whom Gus had met through Wendy Stark—who knew everyone—had the madam look, both in dress and manner. Heidi was wearing an oversize T-shirt, dark glasses, and a baseball hat on backward, which she took off when she sat down, letting her hair fall to her shoulders. She looked like a California girl on her way to the beach for the afternoon.

“I’m a wreck, Gus, a wreck. The idea of jail absolutely terrifies me,” said Heidi. She ordered iced tea. “I honest-to-God don’t know if I can handle it.”

“I hear you’re writing a book,” said Gus.

“I need money. I have to pay my lawyer who lost the case for me,” she said.

“Are you going to name names in your book?” asked Gus.

“No,” she replied.

“Why not?” asked Gus. “That’s the only way you’re going to make any money on your book. From the names I’ve heard on your client list, people would be running to the bookstores to get copies.”

“I don’t know. That’s what everyone tells me,” said Heidi.

“Was O. J. ever one of your customers?” asked Gus.

“I don’t talk about my customers, but no, he wasn’t,” said Heidi. “I could tell you a couple of stories, though, of things I heard about him.”

“Let me ask you something. Are any of these rich and famous guys who utilized your services helping you out on your legal fees?” asked Gus.

“Get real, Gus,” said Heidi, shaking her head. “I haven’t heard from one of them since I got in all this trouble, not a single one.”

“You know, it would be so easy for a couple of those guys who make ten or twelve or fifteen million dollars a picture to stuff a bag full of cash that couldn’t get traced to them and have their business manager deliver it to you.”

“Don’t I wish it,” said Heidi.

“If I’d been one of your clients, I’d have sent you over a bag of cash, pronto,” said Gus, and they laughed.

“Oh, there’s Gus Bailey. Hello, Gus.” The woman’s voice was one that Gus recognized, although he was still immersed in the injustice of Heidi’s story. He jumped to his feet to greet Nancy Reagan and Betsy Bloomingdale, who were joining friends in the next booth. “Hi, Betsy,” he said. “Hello, Nancy.” They exchanged the requisite society kisses. Then

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