Epilogue

Thanks to my testimony—and Daphna’s—Conrad was convicted of first-degree murder and is now serving a life sentence at Homicide Estates, otherwise known as San Quentin Prison.

Needless to say, Daphna divorced him. Forced to take a job in the men’s department at Saks, she promptly sunk her teeth into a billionaire Saudi oil magnate who divorced his three wives to make her his one and only. Last I heard, she was getting her Botox shots at a palace in Dubai.

And it turns out Conrad wasn’t the only one on the brink of poverty. When Dickie tried to cash in on his inheritance, he discovered Patti had frittered away most of her father’s money on her failed business ventures. Her line of doggie clothes alone cost over a million dollars.

Of course, Dickie and Veronica had never been planning to kill Patti. All they wanted was to walk away with a small fortune in a divorce settlement. And as soon as Veronica realized there were no big bucks on Dickie’s horizon, she dumped him faster than a hot potato puff.

At which point, Eleanor Potter sprang into action and begged Normalynne to take Dickie back. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Eleanor still thinks Dickie is a prince among men.

But Normalynne, I am happy to report, is back at her old job teaching high school biology and engaged to be married. To, of all people, one of her arresting officers! That’s right. The brawny cop with the gentle voice. Apparently he fell in love with her the minute he first handcuffed her.

More good news. Patti’s death seems to have been a turning point for Cheryl. She joined a twelve-step program and, after reading about Linda Ruckle in the Hermosa High newsletter, she wrote her a letter of apology about being so nasty to her in gym class. They started a correspondence, which grew into a friendship, and the bottom line is that Cheryl is now L.A. district manager for Linda Ruckle Cosmetics.

Denise Gilbert won her race for city council in a landslide. Trust me, this is just the beginning. Someday that woman is going to be California’s first topless cheerleader woman governor.

As for Walter Barnhardt, he had the nerve to send me an invitation to his wedding. I didn’t go, of course. But I did send him a gift I knew he’d treasure—his Sexometer. It was worth every penny in shipping costs to get rid of the darn thing.

And remember my fiancé-for-hire Brad aka Fireman Brad aka Dr. Francois Cliquot? Well, the other day I turned on the TV and there he was on a soap opera, playing the part of Dr. Boyd Radcliff, internationally famed neurosurgeon! Does life imitate art, or what?

And now—drumroll, please—I’ve saved the best news for last:

Lance has adopted Mamie the Wonder Dog! This time, for keeps. In the few days Mamie lived with him, Lance had fallen head over heels in love with her and was miserable without her. Yearning for the patter of her little paws on his hardwood floor, he took her back and made Kevin get allergy shots.

The only teeny downside to this story is that Kevin wound up dumping Lance for a guy he met in the allergist’s waiting room.

So Lance is single again, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s deliriously in love with his new roommate. He keeps making noises about setting up a playdate for Mamie and Prozac, but in the interests of avoiding a possible nuclear holocaust, I’ve been dragging my heels on that one.

Well, gotta run. Her royal highness needs her belly rubbed.

Catch you next time.

 

 

PS. I never did hear from Dylan Janovici, the adorable English professor. But guess who did call and ask me out for dinner? Principal Seawright! Apparently he was quite taken with me and my tush at our last encounter. Needless to say, I turned him down. I wasn’t about to go out with a man old enough to be too old for my mother. Last I heard, he was dating a waitress at Hooters.