Page 21

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'sMissHamnett," 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.