Holy guacamole, as my mother would say.
The walls were covered with dozens of photographs of Mae West. Some showed her with other people, costars, friends, politicians, studio heads, partygoers. There were also framed playbills, probably featuring the shows in which Mae West had starred. Along one wall were six life-sized mannequins that displayed flashy, glittering floor-length gowns that must have been the ones she wore in her movies and plays. Around the mannequins’ necks were jeweled necklaces of all sizes. Were the stones real?
On the mantel was a row of mannequin heads that held platinum blond wigs, each coiffed in a convoluted hairstyle that was similar to the styles I’d seen her wear in her movies. Several featured diamond tiaras.
The room was a museum completely dedicated to Mae West.
In the middle of it all, a thin, older gentleman sat on the couch, quietly fiddling with a computer tablet. Probably checking his stocks and bonds. He was dressed comfortably in an old oxford-cloth blue shirt with the collar buttoned down and a gray cashmere vest. His trousers were a dark plaid. He looked eccentric and very wealthy. And frail, but that might’ve been because he was so thin.
A Siamese cat sat next to him, purring loudly as the man petted his sleek coat.
Despite the outlandish displays around the room, the furniture itself was comfortably contemporary. Two pale yellow couches faced each other, separated by a wide coffee table. Matching toile chairs were placed nearby and faced the fireplace. Another seating area was arranged at the opposite end of the spacious room.
The man noticed me after a few seconds and gave me a wide smile. He nudged the cat. “We have a guest, Prinny.” The cat jumped off the couch and skedaddled out of the room.
Mr. Strathmore walked toward me with both arms extended. “Miss Wainwright, what a treat.” He took my hands in his and shook them gently. “It’s delightful to meet you.”
“Please call me Brooklyn, Mr. Strathmore. Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”
“It’s my pleasure. And you must call me Edward.” As he walked me toward the glass door leading to the outside balcony, he whispered conspiratorially, “We don’t get many visitors. Unless we throw a party, that is. So we try to throw them quite often.”
Was that the royal we? I wondered. Ian had mentioned that Edward was a bachelor, so was he including his housekeeper in the equation?
“Your house is magnificent,” I said, gazing at the high, beamed ceiling and stone fireplace. In the ceiling above the stone wall was a recessed panel that would open to release a screen. Did Edward watch old Mae West movies in this room? It would be the perfect setting.
“We like it,” he said pleasantly.
At the sliding glass door, I stared out at the expansive sight of city skyline, Bay, and Golden Gate Bridge. “What a stunning view.”
But I had to be honest. Who could concentrate on the view when the room itself was so bizarre and compelling?
His eyes twinkled. “Would you like the five-cent tour?”
“I’m willing to pay more.”
“Aren’t you delightful?” He chuckled and slipped his arm through mine. “I like you.”
I liked him, too. He was an old-fashioned gentleman, as Ian had said, with a twinkle in his eye and a lively sense of humor. The tour was mind-blowing. Mae West memorabilia filled every room. He was a true collector and had to have spent millions of dollars on his favorite hobby. Except for the fact that the rooms were pristine and orderly, I would’ve been tempted to call him a hoarder. Instead, he was merely obsessive. He owned thousands of items from Mae West’s life, including furniture. And he appeared to know the minutest details of every piece.
He opened the door to a bedroom off the main hall that was used as a sitting room. “Everything in this room is from the set of She Done Him Wrong, right down to the wallpaper and wainscoting.”
“It’s amazing,” I whispered. Although spotlessly clean, the room smelled a little musty, probably because everything in it was decades old. A red velvet chair. An old-fashioned lampshade with crystal fringe. A gold rococo mirror. A spinet piano that displayed sheet music from 1933. A vase filled with colorful feathers on the ledge of the piano. A brocade fainting couch filled one corner, covered in a mass of colorful pillows. In another was a curved love seat in a shiny gold satin fabric. Some of the pieces were of good quality; others looked a bit shabby.