Tuesday, May 19: High-Heeled Gumshoe
SWAN SONG
by Melodie Johnson Howe
- The Long Goodbye
The Goodbye Look
Goodbye, Columbus
The Goodbye Kiss
Farewell, My Lovely
Goodbye, Mr. Motto
Swan Song
The Long Divorce
Goodnight and Goodbye
Goodbye, Mr. Thorndike
Good Night, Sheriff
Goodbye, Mr. Chips
A Farwell to Arms
Always Say Goodbye
I could go on. But I’m not. This is my last column as a weekly contributor for Criminal Brief. I’m hanging up my high heels, removing the clip from my gun, and turning my office key over to James.
I will miss being a part of this great group of writers, wits, and scolds. I will also miss the informative and often funny responses from our readers and other writers: especially Paul Guyot, Louis, Jon Breen, Dick Stodghill, Jeff Baker, and Alicia.
Having been an actress, I know how replaceable one is, which reminds me of the cougar incident. I forget the TV show I was acting in, but I remember I played a doctor in a negligee. Now if that’s not enough there was also a cougar. The big cat had to come into a flashy living room and prowl around a mirrored coffee table. The cougar’s wardrobe consisted of a rhinestone collar.
The wrangler got the cougar ready. The director yelled, “Action!” The sleek animal crept onto the set and padded to the mirrored coffee table. The cougar saw his reflection in the table, stopped, and assessed his image. Then in a narcissistic tizzy he rolled onto his back like a big kitten and lay on the floor upside down admiring himself. The director yelled, “Cut!” and they started again. The cougar obediently slinked into the living room and did what he was supposed to until he saw his image and became besotted all over again. He rolled onto his back and gazed dreamily at image.
Five takes later with the same result the director was in a snit. Even the wrangler couldn’t coax the cat away from his reflection. The animal stayed put, tongue hanging out in pure delight. The wrangler eventually got a chain around the cougar’s neck and tried to pull him to his feet. But the cougar, not wanting to leave the mirror, wouldn’t budge. He became dead weight. The wrangler was reduced to dragging the big cat on its side across the cement soundstage floor. As he pushed open the door, light flooded in spotlighting the animal. The cat lifted his head, fixed us all with a loathing look, and let out a loud seething hiss. Then the door closed behind him.
A few minutes later the door reopened and the wrangler came in with another cougar. This one was prancing, even smiling. They got ready for the shot. The director yelled, “Action!” The big cat moved stealthy around the mirrored table, ignoring his reflection, and padded perfectly off stage. Everyone applauded. The cougar was a star. I learned then there is always another cougar.
I’m off to finish my Diana Poole novel, continue writing my short stories, and explore new possibilities. But I will be back now and then just two put my two cents in.
I sign off with one of the great exits scenes in crime fiction.
He turned and walked across the floor and out. I watched the door close. I listened to his footsteps going away down the imitation marble corridor. After a while they got faint, then they got silent. I kept listening anyway. What for? Did I want him to stop suddenly and turn and come back and talk me out of the way I felt? Well, he didn’t. That was the last I saw of him.
I never saw any of them again—except the cops. No way has yet been invented to say good-bye to them.
Great story. We’ll miss you.
Good night, Chet.
Honey, you’re no cougar; you’re a classic.
We’ll miss you. All the best.
Good luck. It won’t be the same without those great stories and the lessons that often went with them. You are leaving with a dandy – there’s always another cougar.
“There’s always another cougar.” Words to live by, I guess.
We look forward to your novel. Our loss will be the novel-readers’ gain. All the best!
Thanks guys and Velma.
James, that swan sure looks like a goose to me.
Come on, Mel, you know that’s really you who gazes into the mirror with your tongue out.
Like when my tongue hangs out when I’m watching Coogan’s Bluff late at night, and hit the pause button right when you’re… uh, did I type that out loud?
Anyway, there may be another cougar waiting in the wings, might even have the same collar as you, might walk around the same table as you, but trust me – no cougar will ever be you. Nor replace you.
With no disrespect to the rest, CB will not be the same. It will always be part of what it once was.
You will be missed. Please do stop by. Leave a comment. Or a post. Let us know how things are going with all your coffee tables.
Be well.
I was hoping for a “Hollywood Ending.” I’ll miss your contributions.
I hoped the title of the piece and the list of goodbye titles didn’t mean what I feared it meant, but of course it did. Best wishes on all your projects, Melodie. And I hope you’re considering that memoir. A book on Hollywood by an actress who can write with such humor and descriptive power, and with such a wealth of experience, would surely find a ready market.
Oh man, Coogan’s Bluff. Glad to hear I’m not the only one who loves that scene.
Melodie, you will indeed be missed — I love your stories and your memories and just the way you write. I agree with Jon, I hope you’ll do a memoir, it’d be wonderful. I also agree that CB won’t be the same. Sure hope you’ll continue to do a column now and then, and maybe coach the rest of us (me) when we (I) wander too far off target.
And I think that is a goose.
A goose? A goose???
This is a goose. Being chased by a swan.
We’ll miss you, macushla.
I’ll miss your column. Goodbye and good luck with your future projects.
Okay, I stand corrected.
Guess I’ll have to stop singing “Way down upon the goosee river.”
Gee, I should leave more often. What did Sally Field say when she recieved her Oscar? “You love me.”
Jon,
Thanks. The memior is bubbling around in my head. One of the reasons I’m leaving CB is to give me more time to write.
James,
It’s a goose!!!!
Oh, darn.
Thanks for the great columns, Melodie! It’s been a pleasure reading.
I have enjoyed your wisdom, insights and laughs. I shall miss them and am looking forward to the good reads your stories and novels provide. Consider the responses here prolonged applause over the footlights. One more great exit line: “Adieu, adieu!…remember me.”
We will!
—–jeff
p.s.: Beware geese and ducks. I knew them well in my youth.
I already miss you, even though I grabbed your office.
Remember these words of (your) wisdom:
Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
In service of my own TV-dweebery, I decided to try and track down the movie that MJH refers to in her story. Based on the few clues that she gives us – she played a doctor, and diamonds figure in the plot – I checked IMDb and a couple of reference books I have at home. I believe the flick in question might be ENIGMA, an unsold pilot from 1977. If this is the one, the director Melodie refers to is Michael O’Herlihy. Okay, trivia it may be, but I was curious – and where would this genre be without curiosity? Melodie (if I may be so familiar), all the best to you and Bones and all your progeny, literary and otherwise.
Mike, thank you for tracking that down. It was ENIGMA and I think the lead actor was Scott Glenn.
I will miss reading your column.
The best of wishes.