La Rose Blanche

by Anthony W. Harvey

Overview

Beverly Hills resident and world-renowned antiques dealer Morris Maximilian DeLane III is still haunted by his dying mother’s last words: I should have killed your father when I had the chance. Now days later, his mother is gone, and he is the sole inheritor of her estate, La Rose Blanche. Even though he is wealthy in his own right, a vast fortune awaits him—or so he thinks.

As Morris arrives at La Rose Blanche, he has no idea that James Hunt, the administrator of his mother’s affairs, has disappeared, leaving Morris with unimaginable debt. As Morris sets out to track down Hunt without the help of the authorities, suspicion grows around the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death. Morris delves into her past and unwittingly uncovers a secret from her childhood that changes the fate of everyone involved.

In this spine-tingling tale, an antiques dealer caught up in the mysterious manner of his mother’s death and the dangerous hunt for her missing fortune is about to discover that things are rarely as simple as they seem.

“Rollicking, entertaining and fun …. An edgy (and, yes, sometimes even bizarre) novel that leaves the reader musing on any number of issues: family, sexuality, friends and the aftermath of lies.”
—Michael Vincent, social worker

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781475990225
Publisher:	iUniverse, Incorporated
Publication date:	06/14/2013
Pages:	526
Product dimensions:	5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 1.17(d)

Read an Excerpt

La Rose Blanche

---

By ANTHONY W. HARVEY

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2013 Anthony W. Harvey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4759-9022-5

---

CHAPTER 1

Calm before the storm

The three passengers hugged John and Frank after disembarking. They stood together in the middle of a walkway as passengers darted around them, scurrying toward their next connection. Andre shook the captain's hand. "You're a good pilot. You put us safely on the ground."

"Thank you," Captain John said, "It was pretty bad ... huh?"

"Pretty bad? I was terrified," he answered, "I've flown through some awful ones before, but nothing like that ... ah ... no reflection on you, but I was convinced we were all going to die. Susie really helped me get through it. I'm not sure I could have handled that mess without her. She's definitely good at what she does."

"She sure is." Steadman replied in earnest. Andre turned toward her.

"Thanks, Susie. You saved me from a meltdown." he glanced back at the pilot, "thanks again."

"You're welcome." Susie reached down and gingerly touched her knee.

"Yeah, it was scary all right." she exclaimed. Morris noticed that her hands were shaking as she rubbed at the ragged knee in a feeble gesture of pain relief.

"You should go home and take care of that," he said, "I hope you don't have a flight right after this one. That would be some serious overload. Like you told me, you need to go home and rest."

"It's not as bad as it looks. Just a little torn skin, but thanks, old friend. I'll take care of it and just so you know, I do have a couple of days off." She quickly flicked her eyes toward the Captain. He had noticed her injury also. He agreed with Susie. It did not look that serious to him.

"Hey," he said quickly before his opportunity faded, "since you have some time, I'm free tonight too. How about you and I get some dinner. I know a good Chinese place. You do like Chinese?" She was delighted with the offer.

"That would be great, John ... oops," she covered her mouth and flirted back, "I apologize, but since we're going out, I hope it's alright to call you John instead of Captain, and yes, I do like Chinese."

"Sure, John is fine with me," he answered, as raised his right eyebrow at how quickly she had taken him up on his offer, "that Captain business always sounds too stuffy to me anyway."

"Well, John," Susie said, "I'm at 1123 North Fifteenth St. Apartment five. You have my phone number. Pick me up?"

"Sure. See you about eight." He turned, nodded at the two men and began to whistle his favorite song—The Lady in Red—as he briskly strode toward the Captain's lounge. Susie was only a few steps behind him.

"Have fun, Susie." Morris called out to her. She threw her hand up and waved. They watched her for a moment until she disappeared around a corner. Morris and Andre began to make their way in silence through the terminal. This was where they usually said their goodbyes until the next time. That day, Andre took a chance—not out of any obligation—but to simply steal as much time with Morris as he could. He placed his hand on Morris' elbow. They stopped their solemn walk.

"You look exhausted," he said, "why don't I go get the bags and wait with you until the limo comes?" Morris looked surprised.

"You know what, you're right. I am tired. Thanks Dre'. I would like that."

Youthful strides matched each other as they made their way toward the private Blue Space baggage claim. Morris' mood had lifted a little. He turned toward his friend.

"Thanks for staying with me." He said sincerely.

"You're more than welcome. You know I'd do anything for you, right?" Andre's thoughts raced along synapses overloaded with anticipation.

I hope that didn't sound too eager.

Morris had long since dispensed with any formality around the man because of their intimacy on the plane, even though he had known him a little less than a year. Andre was a thin five feet nine inches tall, two inches shorter than Morris' stocky two-hundred and twenty pound frame. They had met in a bar in Amsterdam in June of 1999, while Morris was on a week long, European buying trip and Andre was on a two day lay-over. The attraction had been mutual. They had eagerly spent those two nights together. The first night, Andre told him that he was a flight attendant. Morris pulled some strings and managed to get him placed with Blue Space Charter—the company that the DeLane's had leased the jet from for years. They had spent many hours together on the plane over the years, but no where else. Their relationship, so far, had been only about sex, more of an affair. They had never discussed dating, or whether-or-not there was anyone in each other's lives.

He touched Andre's hand. He did something that he had never thought of doing before.

"I don't want to go home alone tonight," he said, "so if you don't have anything planned, a date with a boyfriend ... maybe.. then why don't you come home with me?" Andre was silent for a moment and then a dazzling white smile centered squarely across his dark face.

"We never talked about that," his answer began to ramble, "but no, no I don't have a boyfriend. Don't know why I don't, but I don't have one right now ... uuu ... yeah ... okay. Ah ... you hang out outside and I'll go get the bags."

"I'll be out on the curb, North side." Morris headed toward the exit.

"Right."

Andre's blue uniform seemed to blur the air as moved rapidly toward the baggage claim.

I feel like my heart is going to fly right out of my chest.

Morris stood silently on the curb outside the terminal, amid the bustle of passengers leaving, arriving, stacking bags onto carts, or handing them off to porters, hailing cabs, honking horns and parents getting in and out of cars with whining children. His nose crinkled up as he breathed in the salty ocean air, laced with carbon monoxide. The seventy degree drizzle had not erased the taint of Los Angeles' famous smog. It smelled like home, but he shook his head and tried to make it go away.

That Valium made me groggy. It always does. That's why I don't like to take it ... and I damn sure shouldn't have taken it with vodka.

His head had cleared a little. He realized that he had to stop thinking about death, about being alone, but he was stymied. He did not know how.

It seems I've been surrounded by the deaths of everyone I loved. Gamma, when I was nineteen. Uncle Georgie a few years before her. I really can't remember exactly when he passed away right now. And Mother ...

A relentless shiver gripped him inside three layers of clothing.

This is L.A. I shouldn't be cold.

Morris adjusted the hounds-tooth scarf higher on his neck. He yanked at the lapels of his Burberry overcoat, pulling them tighter as another torrent of tears chilled his grief stricken face.

Mr. Wigglesworth has been, almost like a brother to me ... but he's just a toy bear. I've known all along I'm an only child ... but Jesus! I'm a thirty-seven year old orphan.

He had been so deep in thought that Andre startled him as he came up beside him.

"Does this look like all of the bags? Don't you usually have more? There have been a few times I've seen the handlers load a lot more than this on the plane." Morris glanced over at the various pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage. His eyes shifted impatiently to the Movado on his wrist.

Where's Felix? The limo should have been here by now. I hope he hasn't been entertaining one of his girlfriends in the back seat again.

He stabbed at the stream of tears, hoping Andre wouldn't see.

I'm tired of crying. I'm going to stop now.

He moved his thoughts away from a near virtual emotional overload.

"I'm sorry," he forced his voice to be calmer, "I wasn't trying to ignore you, but yes, I think that's all of them. If not, I'll send Felix back for the rest." They stood on the curb in silence, each man grappling with his own deep emotions. The white stretch Lincoln came to a screeching halt in front of them five minutes later. The driver jumped out and in one long breathless roll exclaimed,

"I'm sorry for being late. It won't happen again, I promise."

"It's okay." Morris answered.

Felix opened the door for them and surveyed the dark skinned man with disarmingly golden, almond shaped eyes and a shaved head with tiny ears that protruded from a square face. A centered European nose with angular cheeks that dropped to a sharp jaw line, held perfectly sized, heart shaped lips that teetered on the verge of having a permanent pout. His thin body was encased in a dark blue uniform that proudly held the Blue Space insigna on the oversized lapel, alongside two medals for employee of the month. The form fitting clothing attempted to conceal somewhat stringy muscles, much like the taut strings on a finely tuned violin. The entire package stood in standard issue from the airline—comfortable looking—shiny black shoes. Felix continued to wonder who he was and what he was doing with his boss.

He looks like a flight attendant to me ... wonder why he's him with him? He's never brought anybody home before. Oh well, none of my business. I'm already in enough hot water.

The two men slipped into the black leather enclave. Morris realized that he probably should have said something about his driver's tardiness, but right now, he did not care. He tapped on the glass separating the compartments, just as the man sat down behind the wheel. Felix let it down.

"Get me home as soon as you can."

"Yes sir ... forty five minutes." Felix said with relief. He quickly closed the window before any more trouble came his way.

The speeding limo adroitly wove in and out of the Los Angeles tapestry. Andre sat beside Morris holding onto a vague sense of unease. He began to fidget.

I'm not sure about this. I feel like a fish out of water. We've been together a lot. Why am I so uncomfortable? I knew he was eight years older than me ... and he's wealthy ... but none of that really matters. I've been in love with him since the night we met in that bar.

Morris was also thinking—not the least bit uncomfortable—just thinking

This is a first for me. I've never really had a lover, just that one casual affair with David ... I'm glad we've remained close. He's been a great friend ... but I need more than a friend right now ... I'm hoping a relationship with Andre might help ease some of the terrible isolation and loneliness, the pain that's plagued me for years—well before Mother died.

He shook his head back to the present.

"The bar's fully stocked," he said. "what do you want to drink?" Andre was shocked at the reversal of positions. He was used to waiting on Morris.

"Uuhhhhh," he stammered, "I don't kno ... I guess ... bourbon and water?"

"We've got both the finest bourbon and the finest water," he joked, "that's a good combination. Just like us." He tapped the music control and the car was instantly soothed by Yanni's latest CD. Andre seemed to relax. Morris noticed that the indirect, blue lighting was turned all the way down. He caught a faint whiff of perfume. He left the control alone and giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Just my horny driver and his numerous girlfriends. Nothing, really. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

"Take care of what?"

"Felix."

"It's really that serious? Are you going to fire him?"

"Yeah ... I don't want to ... but I guess I am," replied Morris, "I've asked him numerous times to take his lady-friends somewhere else. I mean L.A. has motels. Felix is a good driver. He's been with me for years and I'm not one to judge, but after all, he is married and this has been going on for a long time. I guess it's time to let him go."

"That's too bad. I sure wouldn't want to be him right now ... hope you don't decide to fire me."

Andre joked, but was about half-way serious. Morris laughed.

"We got started talking about Felix, but I didn't forget your drink." He lowered the glass panel that contained the ice well. He dropped two cubes into a crystal glass and poured with one hand, as if he had been born a bartender.

"Thanks." Andre scooted closer and put his hand on Morris' arm. He arranged his feet on the slide-out foot rest and melted into the soft leather. Morris started to make himself a vodka on the rocks, but he thought about his mother's excessive drinking and changed his mind.

"You're not having anything?"

"No, I've had enough. I'm really not a heavy drinker." He raised an empty glass instead and flashed a perfect white smile that seemed to take the heaviness off the last ten days and their trip from Greenwich.

"Here's to the future." Their glasses clinked.

"Would you like it if we spent more time together?" Andre warily asked.

I hope this is not just about sex and nothing more. I'm really not sure where this is going.

"No, no objection from me," he answered, "as a matter-of-fact, I was just thinking the same thing. Here, turn a little, you still look tense." Morris was ecstatic that they were both on the same wave length. He reached over and began to massage Andre's neck with sturdy hands.

"Mmmmmm ... That feels so good. You're right, I guess I am still a little tense." The remainder of his energy flowed out into Morris' fingers. The young man shifted his body so that his head was lying in Morris' lap—looking up.

"I'm really lucky to be with you right now." He said drowsily

"Nope, I'm the lucky one." Morris was always surprised by the man's almond shaped eyes, not only for their alarming beauty, but for the intelligence and kindness that they held. The kindness now slipping behind spent lids. He took a forefinger and completely closed them. They re-opened long enough to express—Thank you. Andre quickly left the land of the awake.

Morris cradled his head and watched the contrast between the rich and poor of the city speed past his darkened window. The sun rose over the limo—closed tight with privilege—and he could smell the memory of Mexican food as they turned onto La Cienega. He looked down at his sleeping friend and thought about all of the stories that the young man had told him.

He told me how he grew up poor in Compton. The story about having to go to school as a young boy —past drug dealers sporting either their red or blue colors—about graffiti warning rival gangs to keep out, this was their territory. How he had helplessly watched from his bedroom window as his older brother, Tony, died in a shoot-out on the street. He told me how his father was a lifer in San Quentin and he hadn't seen him since he was ten. He said he didn't understand how his mother did it. She had two jobs and six kids. He was the baby—about how much innocent fun he had playing with numerous nieces and nephews who were taken in from time to time by his seemingly tireless mother ... I don't care where he came from. He's made something of himself. I wasn't sure at first and I took a big risk getting him the job at Blue Space, but he didn't let me down. He's proven himself. I know I can trust him now. When I asked him to come home with me, at first it really was about sex, but later tonight I'm going to ask him if he'll consider being my partner.

The car turned onto Summit Drive into a maze of trees that hid the lives of the rich, famous and powerful of Beverly Hills. The estates were stacked up along the winding, two lane street—each one higher and richer than the last. The only evidence that anyone lived there, were the massive iron gates, barring entry to all but a select few. Morris had not seen her in a few months, but he blew a kiss as they passed the house of one of Hollywood's living legends. He had decorated her mansion a few years ago and they had remained fast friends. The kiss was a ritual, that as silly as it may have seemed to others, he indulged in whenever he passed.

Their destination was La Rose Blanche—The White Rose. The mansion sat alone, covering the entire top of the hill. It was an exact replica of a French chateau, painstakingly built over five years. Morris' parents—Max and Mary Jean—had spent their honey-moon in the summer of 1950 in Bordeaux at the original. Thrilled to be back home in the United States and begin the project, they had hired renowned architect—Paolo Nieves—who worked hand in hand with the equally famous landscape artist—Marcus Bollinger—to duplicate the original. The result was a perfect slice of France, perched atop a hill overlooking Los Angeles.

Morris shook Andre's shoulder as the limo came around the last curve and approached the ivy coated stone walls and a sixteen foot iron gate. Felix reached out his window and entered the code for the security system. The cameras whirred on their bases to record this latest action.
(Continues...)

---

Excerpted from La Rose Blanche by ANTHONY W. HARVEY. Copyright © 2013 Anthony W. Harvey. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

---

Table of Contents

Contents

Prologue....................     xi     

1 CALM BEFORE THE STORM....................     1     

2 JAMES HUNT....................     39     

3 WHAT A LOVELY CELL....................     85     

4 WHAT DID YOU SAY....................     117     

5 THE BREAKFAST....................     149     

6 STAR-LITE MOTEL....................     187     

7 YOUR DELICIOUSNESS....................     227     

8 THE HUNT FOR HUNT....................     255     

9 ON TO THE NEXT....................     311     

10 THE LETTERS....................     347     

11 SHAKE, RATTLE AND ROLL....................     395     

12 RECOVERY....................     441     

13 DADDY....................     483     

Epilogue....................     505