Landweir House
Chapter 9
Home for the Holidays
In the days following his own death, Richard Breen was remarkably busy. He had hand written out his will leaving everything to his identical twin brother Robert. He then had his identity legally changed to that of Robert Breen. He was fairly confident that the fact that he didn’t have an identical twin brother would never become a roadblock to his plan. Payments were made and cooperation was given by the local and state authorities. The government officials of Louisiana in the early fifties were somewhat lax in their appreciation for absolute, binding truth when it came to such things. Why should they care if this man wanted to be known as Robert instead of Richard? And it certainly was of no concern to them if he wanted to inherit his own property. More power to him and more money to them. He then had purchased a used car and drove it back to Hollywood where he contacted the studio to assure them that the reports of his sudden death had been somewhat overly dramatic and that he had come up with a great idea for a script that would give Marilyn Monroe her first staring role but he wasn’t yet sure how it would end. He was given the green light and in mid December, once his livelihood was secured, he headed home to Landweir House to claim his inheritance.
In her initial days of widowhood, Jean Breen had been busy also. Even though she knew that the body that had been recovered from the Bayou was not that of her husband she was still confident that her husband was dead. Surely his remains had been divvied up and devoured by the reptilian residents of that ghastly swamp. Why else would she not have heard from him? So she spent her initial mourning period shopping and playing the role of the bereaved widow. Shop keepers and restaurant maître Dees became her soulful eyed, adoring public. Too much of everything became her new life and it was all excused by those around her as being a reaction to the sudden loss of her love. She was playing the part so well that she even started to miss Richard and forget all about Sam Hart.
One night after a particularly substantial evening of carousing, a bus boy from Antoine’s was assigned the task of getting Mrs. Breen safely returned to her residence. The boy was just pulling the nearly unconscious bombshell from the backseat of the cab, and taking a little too much liberty with where he grabbed a hold, when a man’s voice told him to unhand her. The bus boy, startled, spun around and was staring the lady’s dead husband in the eyes. Richard knew that this boy had recognized him from the many times he and his wife had dined at Antoine’s and so he had to play it cool.
“I’ll take over from here.” He told the boy as he worked his way between the two of them.
“But….” Was all the bus boy could stammer.
“It’s OK kid. I’m her brother in law. I’ll take care of her. It’s not the first time.” Robert told him with a wink.
“You look just like Mr. Breen.” The bus boy said as he gratefully accepted the five-dollar bill that was being pushed at him.
“I’m his twin brother, Robert. Good to make your acquaintance. It’s a shame that this is the last time that you’ll see Mrs. Breen. She’s moving back to Hollywood soon and I’ll be moving into the house. My brother left it to me.”
“Thanks Mr. Breen. Come in and see us at Antoine’s some night. We’ll take good care of you.”
“Take the cab back son, my treat.” he said as he handed the cabbie another five.
Jean’s legs were like noodles attached to rubber springs and when Robert got tired of trying to get her to walk, he scooped her up in his arms and walked to the front door of Landweir house. She had now completely blacked out and he laid her down on the sofa in the sitting room.
“Why did you have to do it?” he asked her as he removed her shoes and sat on the end of the sofa. He took her right foot into his hands and started to massage it. “We could have been so happy together. Maybe had kids. Remember we talked about kids someday?” The foot massage was having a soothing effect on Jean and she arched her back and let out a slight moan. She had always liked Richard to give her a foot massage. He took her other foot into his hands and started in on it. “But no, you had to have excitement in your life, even if you had to manufacture it. I’ve never met anyone who was so happy being unhappy. Why did you have to be crazy?” Jean was completely gone now. Gone to a place where nothing could reach her, a place where only the booze could take her. Away from the world, away from the pain, away from her own thoughts. Robert was sure that he could see the slightest hint of a smile on her beautifully tragic face as he covered it with a pillow.