True. Typically, before accepting a case, Connor does a background check on the individual interested in hiring us. That saves the team from nasty surprises later, like discovering you’ve been aiding a criminal instead of assisting a victim as you had initially been led to believe.
“Fair enough,” Josephine says and begins to tell us about the man she dated when she was in her early twenties and still an unknown in Hollywood.
“He was such a gentleman,” she says after describing how she and Bradshaw first met. Henri and Liza sigh like lovesick teenage girls staring at a poster of their favorite boy band.
“He took me to a vineyard for our first date. We had been driving through Napa Valley at the time, exploring the area. He told me how his grandparents back in Italy had once owned a vineyard. As a kid, he loved running up and down the rows of vines, helping his grandmother tend to the plants while she told him stories of magical creatures.”
“So he’s from Italy?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, he was born in the US. His father was an American who fell in love while working in Italy. When his stay came to an end, he and the girl married, and she moved to California with him. I used to love hearing their story. It was rather romantic.”
And so begins what turns into an all-afternoon interview as Josephine tells us about her relationship with Bernard.
“Did you love him?” Isabelle asks at one point.
Josephine reaches for her tea, her hands shaking in the way that inflicts most elderly people. “At the time, I thought I did. But after I fell in love with your grandfather, I realized what I’d felt for Bernard and my first husband was only fondness. When Bernard left to go to Europe, I thought I was letting him go because I loved him and wanted him to achieve his dreams. But in retrospect, it was because I knew deep down that I didn’t love him in the way that I thought I had. In the way that I needed to in order to sacrifice my own dreams so I could be with him.”
Crinkles form on Isabelle’s brow. “Who says you have to sacrifice your dreams to be with a man?”
“That’s what was expected of a woman when we were younger,” Liza says. “Our goal was to make our man happy.”
“Well, that’s kind of stupid,” Isabelle huffs.
Josephine and Liza laugh. “Fortunately, times have changed. You still want to make sure your man is happy, but it goes both ways.”
“And you should never change who you are to make him happy.” Henri says it in a way that makes me wonder if he speaks from experience.
“You mean like how Dad expected my mother to be something she wasn’t?” Isabelle asks Josephine. Her eyebrow is raised in challenge, but her tone and eyes still portray her fondness for the old woman.
Isabelle’s father is Josephine’s son.
“Unfortunately, your father was old-school. You can blame that on his grandparents on his father’s side.” She winks at Isabelle and chuckles. “Your grandfather encouraged me to be true to myself, something that is a challenge for any actress, both now and in the past. Maybe even more so back then, with the studio trying to dictate how I looked and behaved. Your grandfather loved me for who I was, quirks and all.”
“Did Bernard want you to be something you weren’t during your relationship?” I ask.
She appears thoughtful for a moment. “As far as I remember, he seemed pretty happy with what he saw. But I was still young at the time, fairly inexperienced when it came to the world. It was Isabelle’s grandfather who opened my eyes and indirectly helped me become the woman I wanted to be.”
“An award-winning actress?”
Smiling softly, she shakes her head. “No, a humanitarian. But he also supported my ambitions as an actress and stood by my side when I needed him. And in turn, I did the same for him. Our marriage wasn’t always perfect because of the challenges we faced due to our careers. The long hours. My being away on location. But because we were strong in who we were, we made it work.”
“After you and Bernard went your separate ways, were you still in contact with him?”
“If you mean, did I ring him on the phone or write to him, the answer is no. We ended on friendly terms, but we didn’t make any attempts to contact each other.”
“And then out of the blue, he calls you? Asking for my help?” Skepticism sits on Isabelle’s words like a thin layer of dust.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. He moved back to America several years later, and we saw each other at various events in LA over the years. Because we were still very much involved with the Hollywood scene, it was impossible not to bump into each other from time to time. But it wasn’t until a few weeks ago, when he was in San Francisco, that we reconnected and had a chance to really catch up.
“That’s when I told him about you, Isabelle, and about your job. He called Sunday night and asked for my help in reaching out to you.”
“Why not just call Isabelle at the office?” I ask.
“He’d dropped into town briefly for some family business but was due to fly out later that evening. He felt more comfortable connecting with you and Isabelle through me, instead of just cold-calling you. Like I told Isabelle, Bernard is a little paranoid in his old age. I think that’s why he’d rather talk about the case face-to-face, rather than on the phone or via email.”
Josephine’s gaze darts briefly to me, a hint of a smirk on her lips before she returns her attention to Isabelle. “I don’t know if you’ve talked to him yet, but he told me if you agree to spend the weekend at the resort, you’re to book the reservations under the name of Moorehead. That way he’ll know that you’re coming—unless you insist on talking to him first. But even then he won’t be willing to discuss what was stolen on the phone.”
“Oh, you mean like as in Roger Moore?” Henri claps his hands in excitement. “He and Sean Connery were always my favorite 007s.”
