10. Jude
CHAPTER 10
Jude
"Okay, and when is the last time you saw Mrs. Hamnett?"
Jude moves around in her seat and crosses her legs at the ankles. She's holding her purse in her lap as she sits across the desk from a private investigator in an office in Daytona Beach, which is an hour and a half drive from Stardust Beach. "It's Miss Hamnett," Jude corrects. "Catherine Maryellen Hamnett. She wasn't married when I knew her, although she might be now."
The investigator, a man named Harrison Watts, scribbles on a lined notepad on his desk. "I see."
The sound of a woman wearing high heels clicks down the hallway just beyond the closed office door. Jude musters her courage.
"The last time I saw her was in October of 1956. We were in Los Angeles, and she was my roommate."
"Address?"
"6151 Richmond Street," Jude says without pause. "A small bungalow in a neighborhood in Hollywood. Our neighbor, Mr. Gaines, worked in the film industry, and we would see the likes of Elizabeth Taylor and Marlon Brando on our street, just dropping in to see Mr. Gaines for a drink or a party."
Harrison Watts looks up from his notes, shooting Jude a dubious look over the tops of his black-framed glasses. "Oh?"
Jude nods, encouraged. "It was very glamorous. I mean, our bungalow wasn't--it was small and we had bougainvillea and orchids running wild around the outside--but our street was full of creative types and...men who lived with other men. You know." Jude drops her eyes to her lap and keeps her gaze averted momentarily before forcing herself to look at Harrison Watts directly. "Catherine was an actress."
"And you? What were you doing at the time while rooming with Miss Hamnett?" Mr. Watts removes his glasses and leans both elbows on his desk as he assesses Jude again. He's clearly seeing something in her that he hadn't seen at first glance. "Were you an actress as well?"
"Me?" Jude nearly laughs out loud. "No. Oh, heavens no. I was a secretary. I met a girl who typed memos at MGM and ran the mail around their office when I was fresh out of high school, and she got me an interview. So I worked as secretary to one of the vice presidents at MGM," Jude says proudly. "I loved it."
Harrison Watts is still watching her closely. "You met movie stars?"
"Oh, sure. Plenty—at work. But it's different when you're in your front yard trying to trim the flowers and Elizabeth Taylor climbs out of the back of a car to have champagne at your neighbor's house, you know?"
"I don't know, but I can imagine." Mr. Watts goes back to writing notes. "It all sounds very glamorous for a young lady."
"I suppose it was," Jude admits. "Anyway, Catherine was under contract at MGM--strictly bit parts, dancing scenes in big productions, walk-on roles--but she had big dreams. Everyone did, of course."
"Even you?"
Jude’s eyes drift to the window that looks out at the sunny skies above Daytona Beach. "Even me. I thought I'd stay in Hollywood, and that somehow my mother would find me and come to live with me. I don't know...just little girl dreams, I guess."
Mr. Watts frowns. "Your mother? Is she missing as well?"
Jude blows out a loud breath. "In a sense, yes. But that's a whole other story. Right now, I'd like to track down Catherine Hamnett and see what I can find out about her."
Mr. Watts seems like he wants to say something, but then pauses, picks up his pen, taps it on the paper. He's about to write something, but instead he sets the pen on the desk and laces his hands together. "If you don't mind my asking," he finally says. "Aside from being your roommate, what was the nature of your relationship with Miss Hamnett?"
Jude's eyes drift back to the blue skies outside the window. "That's actually what I'm trying to figure out."
* * *
"Catherine?" Jude called out, walking through the front door of their shared bungalow.
It was October 16, 1956, a Tuesday. The day that Pan Am flight 6 from San Francisco to Honolulu made the first water landing on record. All passengers and crew survived. Catherine was sitting on the couch in a sundress, holding a cat in her lap who had taken it upon himself to climb in through the bedroom window and make their house his home. Jude did not yet know Vance Majors, and therefore her life was not ruled by NASA, by talk of space, or by thoughts of a husband who might one day reach the moon, and so the news of any sort of aircraft landing anywhere was just a point of interest, not a major event in her life.
Neither woman even brought it up.
"What's going on?" Jude asked, setting a paper bag of groceries on the small counter in the kitchen. "Did you work today?"
Catherine sighed, stroking the white fur of the cat she'd jokingly named Frank Sinatra for the distinct way he crooned at her bedroom window. "Just for a few hours. I got to the set and we all sat in wardrobe for two hours before finding out that the star of the show wasn't coming. Something about a bad night of sleep." She rolled her eyes to show how she felt about this. "We all got sent home."
"Is it Her Royal Highness?" Jude asked, referring to an actress notorious for inflicting her own personal dramas and delays on entire casts and crews.
"You know it." Catherine picked up Frank Sinatra, set him on the ground gently, and stood up. "I was counting on that paycheck, and working with the director is a dream come true."
Jude was slowly unpacking the groceries from the bag: a small carton of eggs, a loaf of bread, two tomatoes, a package of chicken breasts. Catherine came over and rested her elbows on the counter as she watched.
"Are you making chicken tonight?" Catherine reached for a handful of grapes as Jude took them out of the bag. Jude slapped her hand playfully, laughing.
"I'm making chicken fettuccini," Jude said, turning her back on Catherine to put the eggs and chicken into the refrigerator.
"Mmm." Catherine popped a grape into her mouth and chewed. "I'm starving."
"You barely eat." If it sounded like an admonishment, that's because it was meant to be one; Jude did not like Catherine's persistent dieting. She understood that being svelte was a prerequisite for a dancer and an actress, but the idea that Catherine wanted to make herself into something that she wasn't just to please the strangers who cast their gazes upon her was tiring for Jude to contemplate. It was enough that she herself had endured a lifetime of trying to make herself into something that was more palatable to others--she did not want Catherine to have to live that way.
“I eat enough to get by,” Catherine said simply. “And I’ll definitely be eating some of the fettuccini you make tonight.”
“Can I pour you a glass of wine?” Jude reached into the cupboard and took down two glasses, which she turned upright as she uncorked a bottle of red. “I want to hear more about the scene you were supposed to do today.”
Catherine pulled a stool up to the counter and accepted the glass, holding it by the stem as she lifted it up and settled in. Talking in the kitchen together as Jude cooked was one of their favorite things to do, and most nights they did it while sharing a glass or two of wine.
“Well,” Catherine said with relish, holding up one hand as if Jude would not believe it. “We were supposed to be doing a Vegas scene today, where all the women were dressed as showgirls. Feather headdresses,” she said, holding a hand up to mimic a tall feather on top of her head, “beaded body suits, and tons of choreography. I had this one dance where I was supposed to be front and center, and…”
Catherine went on, sharing details of the scene she’d missed out on as Jude cut up vegetables, boiled pasta, and prepared the chicken. She nodded, sipped her wine, and inserted questions and comments where they were supposed to go, but as she moved around their tiny kitchen, all Jude could think about was how beautiful Catherine was. How much she glowed. She wanted to stop cooking and just stare at her. To watch her freely. Instead, she topped off her own wine, lifting an eyebrow at Catherine to see if she wanted more.
It was as close to domestic bliss as the two women had ever been in either of their lives, and for Jude, it was as close to feeling like herself—to being free—as she’d ever been. During one long evening with a full bottle of wine between them, she’d told Catherine about her trip over from Japan, about the fact that she never saw her mother again, and about her relationship with her dad and his wife and kids. And, much to her surprise, all Catherine had done was listen sympathetically.
When Jude was done talking, Catherine had reached over and taken her hand, watching her with an open, curious, intense gaze.
“You’ve been through so much, Judith,” she’d said breathlessly. “You’re so brave, and so strong. I admire you so much.”
She hadn’t been entirely sober when it happened, but Jude had been sober enough to know the truth in that moment, and to acknowledge it—at least to herself.
She was in love with Catherine Maryellen Hamnett.
* * *
Mr. Harrison Watts is a man with things to do, places to go, and people to see. He lets his newest client stare out the window for a long spell as she thinks about God knows what, but then when an amount of time has gone by that feels almost uncomfortable, he clears his throat.
“So, Mrs. Majors. What would you like me to do?”
Jude’s gaze sharpens as she looks at the private investigator sitting there in a shaft of sunlight, dust motes settling all around his office.
She smiles.
“I want you to find her,” she says. “I want you to find Catherine.”