HOLLYWOOD

Oh, darling, I need a cigarete, no two, no give me the whole damn bloody box.

Andrea and I drove round and round and round the Eiffel until we spotted Harry and Frank. Being in the Martin left no room for the two of them, you know. So we told them to meet us in the Latin Quarter at Le Procope. Once we were seated in the back corner room Frank began a campaign of words that I wasn't sure ever would end. Damn, that man can talk faster than I can do cold type.

Anyhow, he went on to ask if I remembered receiving a cablegram containing a penis song, and I told him I did and that it was from an old friend of mine, Mr. Long. Frank said that Mr. Long is no friend of mine and that the penis song was a message in code and mistakenly sent to my hotel room. To which I said, "Yes, do go on." Darling, he told me that Mr. Long works for the CIA, and no it does not stand for Curiously Inquisitve American. I think it's the acronym for American International Capers, but backward. I think. I didn't ask. I could be wrong. Though I doubt it. Well, anyhow darling, it seems that Frank was at Eton the same time Mr. Long and Nicky H. were attending the school. They were fraternity brothers of some sort and swell friends. Darling, I had to stop him right there, as his train of thought was going back years, so much that he was losing himself in the telling of one of their great cricket matches. Even recounting their scores! Gawd!

Why Mr. Long went to America after Eton is beyond me. But, that's neither here nor there. I was laughing hysterically so that a penis song could be code. Is that not a scream? Remember darling, I told you how Mr. Long and Nicky had the bloody best good humor, and if Frank's story is true that Mr. Long's penis song was in code, then it made perfectly fine sense to me. Only Mr. Long would think such an antic which could make it past the government's high security twittering system.

Frank's story was such a long mess that the four of us went through three bottles of fine French Bourdeaux in the course of an hour or so. Frank said that Mr. Long and Fiona were lovers and Fiona developed that terribly bad habit of throwing herself into and out of and into and out of and into her car because Mr. Long refused to share his secret password with her. What? How the bloody hell does a bad habit of throwing and thrasing one's self all about a car have anything to do with being denied a secret password? Frank says he's not for sure, but he's still working on that part of the story.

Andrea asked him what the bloody hell did any of that have to do with me, him and his dead brother? Frank said that he was still working on that part of the story as well. Well, darling, Andrea and I just burst into roars if not fits of laughter at this point. But, Harry looked so grave and concerned that I had to boost him up a bit and tell him that we had no worries, I only was missing a pair of gloves was all. Harry said, "Oh, but Jacqueline, we do, we do have a worry." Harry can be so dramatic, you know? I told them, "Look I am a titled Lady, do service for my Queen and write wonderful articles for the Post on my corona no. 3, nothing more."

And for Christ's sake darling, do you know that right there and then Frank pulled a gun from under his beautiful Henry Ford rust, brown, and light yellow plaid sporting jacket and said, "Jacqueline, this is serious." "Well, you're bloody damn right it's serious, you've got a fricking gun fergodsake and you're waving it round as if it weren't loaded." I told them we were on our way to the police station to retrieve my gloves and Frank told us not to say anything that might implicate us later on, as the French police were unaware of all what was going on. Someone please, do tell me what is going on, as I'd like to know! Darling, I believe Frank and Harry might well have lost a screw somewhere. Geez, it's just a pair of gloves, you know? What drama queens!

Thank God for Andrea, as he grabbed my hand and said, "Let's get lost, Jacqueline and make a getaway." I love it when he says that. Well anyhow darling, while we were running to jump in the Martin I twisted my ankle on the gravel and now I can't walk as proper as I'd prefer. Oh, I was wearing my striking new LV heels as they were the perfect match for my navy outfit that I'd selected just for the police chief or captain, whichever.

I called back to Harry as we sped away that I'd give him a dial tomorrow. Poor fellow, he looked so forlorn standing there in the drive left behind with just Frank and the gun. Well, truly darling, we couldn't have fit three in the Austin Martin. I'll make it up to him tomorrow. That is if Frank hasn't killed him by then.

Andrea and I laughed the entire way to the Paris police station where upon our arrival we were met by Inspector Clouseau, who was the nicest chap by the way. An odd little man, but nice, just the same. And, yes, wouldn't you know, he asked me to identify Fiona's couture outfit, and damn it to hell - it was MY favorite pink Chanel outfit, MURDERED straight right there for me to have to witness. Remember darling, the one we picked up just this spring from Karl's new collection? I was spit burning mad. I told you she was a rat. How ever in the world did she get hold of MY CHANEL, is what I'd like to know? Inspector Clouseau said he was working on that story.

Good Lord, is everyone working on a story? Well, I wish they'd all hurry and finish to get back with me when they reach the end, you know. I've grown beyond weary of everyone's wanting ME to be the cause of THEIR story.

Anyhow, the nice Inspector Clouseau handed me my beautiful driving gloves, and in such fine condition I might add, especially for all they had been through. He asked if I knew how my gloves wound up in the grottes where a dead man's body also had washed up on a nearby river's bank. I told him that I was still working on that story.

The Inspector asked that I stay in France for awhile longer as he may have questions he will want to ask of me as he continues to work on HIS story. Andrea told him, "No problem there chap, you can't twitter us, but you can send a cable to the HOTEL DE CRILLON where Lady Jacqueline is keeping all 42 pieces of her luggage." Gosh, do you not just love the way Andrea handles a situation? He's so cool.

Well, darling, we jumped in the Martin and we're headed for Italy, as Andrea thinks it best we lay low for a bit. Do you not love it? The way he is playing McQueen, you'd think he'd been in the movies. And he's never even been to Hollywood for a screen test.

-Jacqueline