Lindsay Davis Journal
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November 7, 2006
*sitting in my den, opening my journal to add a few things*
Today I had lunch with Diego and Rachel at the Palm Court. Rach was there to collect her $5000 winnings since she always play $10 straight up on 555, the number that hit on Monday at 12,105.55. Diego insisted that she buy lunch, in spite of all her whining.
I had voted early this morning and been following the early results. The only surprise so far was a new name that popped up out of no where on Staten Island, David Dewher. It seems he's a write-in, a total independent favoring no party.
Diego growled when he heard that he's in a dead heat with Amber Valetta. If she loses, who knows what this Dewher might decide regarding the refuse removal contract for 2007.
I spent Monday night in Mahoney's Irish Pub enjoying the company of a businessman named Michael Harrington. He's new here in New York City and we danced the Green Fields. Decaln and Molly sat at the bar while Barb and Rafe were the bartenders.
We had a little excitement when Rafe got a strange phone call that really upset her. She banged the phone down and swore like a trooper, then headed for the back door. I saw Declan jump up, remove something from the back of his pants and hurry out after her. Most of the customers, fearing an attack of some kind, tossed money on the bar and left. Michael stayed with me, saying he would protect me if there was a problem.
Rafe came back carrying a bottle in a sack and refused to divulge the contents. I could tell though that she was pretty upset. I used my cell phone to call for a taxi and Declan walked Molly and Barb back to Barb's apartment leaving Sam to close up the Pub early.
*closing my journal with a little smile*
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October 28, 2006
*sitting in my den, opening my journal to add a few things*
Yesterday I finally found Molly McGafferty working the day shift at Mahoney's Irish Pub. We had lunch together when she took a break and we discussed the recent loss of her father, her last living relative.
The reason I didn't reach her at home was because she was camping out at Barbara Swan's apartment. I had to smile when she said that she was getting help from Declan Mulqueen, the new Irishman in the Big Apple. I'd spent a couple nice evenings with Declan too, so I know just how good he can make a female feel. I made a mental note there because I know how secretive Declan can be. He obviously knows more about this murder than he's willing to share.
Molly said that although her father's last will and testament disappeared when the killer emptied Patrick's safe, Molly had a copy in a sealed envelope her father had given her to open upon his death. Also in there she found the code numbers to open his safe and instructions to burn his journal and destroy several other documents which she didn't divulge.
She learned that Crane, Poole and Schmidt was the law firm her father employed. Patrick said she should go meet with Denny Crane and Tara Wilson who would help her manage his estate. The small house in Brooklyn was paid for and there was enough money in his savings account and stock investments to make her life much easier. Copies of all his investments were in the Tara Wilson's files.
Molly managed not to cry during our discussion, and asked me to refrain from mentioning all this in my weekly column, even though she knew I had to mention the status of the investigation into her father's death. I assured her that I would hold the personal details in confidence.
After I left, I met with Diego and asked him if he could possibly use his contacts to find out more about why Patrick McGafferty was murdered. Diego assured me it had absolutely nothing to do with any of the Genovese businesses, but said he would do some nosing around. I knew he would talk to Denny Mahoney, since Denny knows more about the Sinn Fein, also referred to as the Fenian Brotherhood. I believe that's where the answer lies.
I made a note to try and bump into Declan again to see what I might be able to learn there/
*closing my journal…. my mind wandering back to my last night with Declan which brought a smile to my face. No wonder Molly has that smile on HER face when mentioning Declan's name*
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June 4, 2006
*returning to my den after a long hard hopeless day, I turned on my computer and started adding to my journal*
Last night, or early this morning, all of my precious jewelry was stolen. The marvelous earrings and bracelets that Diego and a few others had given me are gone, possibly forever. Lt. Joe Friday and CSI agent, Jeff Mallard, went over my Plaza Hotel suite with a fine tooth comb, but they fear what they were able to find won't help much.
There were no fingerprints other then mine in the den or on my safe. The talented burglar sure knew his trade, opening the safe without the use of any tools. Yes, my stuff was insured and some may still be found in various pawn shops, but the odds of finding the thief are slim to none.
My mind always drifts back to Felix, the man I brought home with me after dinner. It was possible he'd put something in my last glass of wine, but a thief? Hardly likely.
The one clue that might let us catch this thief was the fact that the same thief struck the Four Seasons Supper Club the same night and left my jewelry box on Diego's desk. A cruel message to taunt us both? Possibly so, but who and why? I'm sure we both have enough enemies, but they would have found something more serious I fear.
The police say they will try and trace the pawn shops if anything turns up, but they assume my jewelry has already left New York City.
Lisa Cohen did show up at the Palm Court to ask more about what happened, but for now it's not a Federal case.
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May 27, 2006
*after bringing this week's gossip column up to date, I opened my journal which I hadn't touched since April*
It's been a very busy month. Gino claims he won the masturbation contest between him, Rachel and me. I was the early loser, which I blamed on Doni, and Gino tells me that Rachel finally caved in after her most recent photo shoot with Bobby Campbell. I guess that means Bobby failed to get in her pants again. *sighs* She must actually be in love with Mike.
I pressed Gino, saying I couldn't believe he lasted that long. His answer was, "It ain't hard if you're getting laid almost every night, ask Jason!" I'm making a note to self, get laid more often.
I finally met with super model Ana Demetrius when we were both in Bobby's photo studio. He's taking photos of her for a potential front cover for InStyle's June issue. I sat with Ana over a few glasses of wine after the shoots. She owns a mansion out on Long Island, in Oyster Bay actually. She has three servants and I did catch a glimpse of Lucas who drives her limo for her. Talk about eye candy? Yummy, he has that hard look about him, the bad boy type.
I couldn't resist playing with that freshman, Barry Watters. He sure was fun in my hot tub last week. I could tell by the smile on Tammi's face when I mentioned Barry, that she too must have sampled his wares. Rachel has to be the next target on his list. He did manage to get a date with her, but I alerted Mike Miller and he manage to intercede and divert Barry's attack.
*chuckling to myself as I close my journal*
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April 16, 2006
*after faxing in my Sunday gossip column I stayed at my computer, opening up my private journal*
I'm pleased that Eva seemed to hit it off with Donivan last night. I know I'm not the right female for him. He needs a girl of his own, not a gossip columnist like me, that's well known for my relationship with famous guys like Diego, Ben Jason and even Bobby. My fun in the sun with Anne Heche will no doubt come up in the future.
It was better that I backed off before we did the horizontal rumba, although the foreplay on Friday night was fantastic. He just deserves a girl partner of his own. Maybe Eva isn't even the best choice, but I knew her stunning, seductive beauty would at least get his attention. I want to remain his close friend and confidant, somebody he can bounce ideas off here in the Big Apple.
I hope she honestly tells him about her famous divorce from Walter Macy, before he hears it elsewhere. Walter Macy was the editor of The National Inquirer before he was arrested and jailed for buying that stolen painting. Walter divorced Eva after he found out she was supposedly sleeping with Bobby Campbell, the famous fashion photographer. We'll never know for sure if she actually cheated on Walter with Bobby, but my guess has to be yes. Bobby is clever and uses his photo shoots to get a lot of women in bed. I'm not sure who really seduced whom in our little affair. Hell, I'm as bad as he is.
Rachel keeps saying her true love is Mike Miller, but I know Mike's too busy to keep her satisfied. She has Gino Caruso, Bobby Campbell and now even Jason Maloney sniffing around. I respect the silence I always get when I poke her with questions.
I was the first loser in the masturbation contest between Rachel, Gino and me, but I can blame that on Donivan. He is one handsome man and after refraining from raping him, I needed relief.
*closing my journal and smiling as I head for bed and more relief. At least I've already paid the Piper in the contest. I hope Gino and Rach are both tossing and turning if they still haven't caved in*
April 16, 2006
*after faxing in my Sunday gossip column I stayed at my computer, opening up my private journal*
I'm pleased that Eva seemed to hit it off with Donivan last night. I know I'm not the right female for him. He needs a girl of his own, not a gossip columnist like me, that's well known for my relationship with famous guys like Diego, Ben Jason and even Bobby. My fun in the sun with Anne Heche will no doubt come up in the future.
It was better that I backed off before we did the horizontal rumba, although the foreplay on Friday night was fantastic. He just deserves a girl partner of his own. Maybe Eva isn't even the best choice, but I knew her stunning, seductive beauty would at least get his attention. I want to remain his close friend and confidant, somebody he can bounce ideas off here in the Big Apple.
I hope she honestly tells him about her famous divorce from Walter Macy, before he hears it elsewhere. Walter Macy was the editor of The National Inquirer before he was arrested and jailed for buying that stolen painting. Walter divorced Eva after he found out she was supposedly sleeping with Bobby Campbell, the famous fashion photographer. We'll never know for sure if she actually cheated on Walter with Bobby, but my guess has to be yes. Bobby is clever and uses his photo shoots to get a lot of women in bed. I'm not sure who really seduced whom in our little affair. Hell, I'm as bad as he is.
Rachel keeps saying her true love is Mike Miller, but I know Mike's too busy to keep her satisfied. She has Gino Caruso, Bobby Campbell and now even Jason Maloney sniffing around. I respect the silence I always get when I poke her with questions.
I was the first loser in the masturbation contest between Rachel, Gino and me, but I can blame that on Donivan. He is one handsome man and after refraining from raping him, I needed relief.
*closing my journal and smiling as I head for bed and more relief. At least I've already paid the Piper in the contest. I hope Gino and Rach are both tossing and turning if they still haven't caved in*
April 11, 2006
*sitting in my den, my computer turned on as usual, I sat at my desk, staring at the unlocked and open two drawer lateral file cabinet in my den. These secret files hold information that my column has been based on over the last 7 years. They also hold information that was too hot to print, especially the section with data on the various Mafia families in the New York City Area. I took out my personal journal and began typing*
This morning Diego had picked up my new friend, Donivan Kline, out front of the Plaza Hotel and took him off to Winged Foot to play 18 holes. Diego is a charter member there and if Donivan can really play, Diego plans to get him a job there as a professional instructor.
I'd met Donivan for the first time at the Four Seasons Club bar on Saturday night. He's handsome and charming in a rough sort of way and I helped him get a hotel room at the Plaza Hotel. He joined Rachel and I for brunch at the Palm Court on Sunday and we took him out on the ferry to the Statue of Liberty.
We quickly learned that he's a golf pro in Colorado and came to New York City on vacation to see the sites. A bound was forming between us and he promised to teach me to play golf as we ate dinner together at the Four Sunday evening. I told him he'd have to stick around longer than two weeks to teach me to play golf and to my surprise, he said he just might if he could find a job here.
I called Diego and told him the situation, asking him if he could possibly use his powerful influences to get Donivan a job. He just laughed, saying he'd need to play golf with Donivan first, just to make sure Donivan wasn't just trying to get in my pants while here on vacation. I'll know more once they get back on Tuesday night.
On Monday night I was just getting ready to order a pizza for dinner, planning on staying home and possibly enjoying my favorite internet chat room. I knew that was dangerous since I had that wager with Rachel and Gino and I was always tempted to play with one of those chat room guys. I assured myself that the pizza and beer would keep my hands busy. I could just fake it.
Then the phone rang and it was Donivan returning my call. I needed to tell him that Diego wanted to play a round of golf on Tuesday. He wound up coming upstairs to join me for pizza and beer. We had a nice evening, dancing around the living room to country music and just chatting. He might have saved me from the chat room, but it was impossible to behave myself after he left. I'll have to tell Rachel and Gino I didn't make it through the night. I'm no longer the queen of my castle.
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February 26, 2006
Saturday night was a lot of fun. I met up with Rachel at the Four to enjoy the singing of Latin star Gloria Estefan and spent most of the evening dancing with Jason. His wonderful hands were everywhere while we danced and it was obvious he wanted a piece of me, so when he asked if he could take me home, I agreed.
Jason has a nice suite in the Carnegie Hill apartment complex and he let me use his computer to pull up my weekly gossip column, finish it up and send it in. Trust me, trying to type with him standing behind me using those marvelous hands everywhere wasn't easy. I barely made the deadline.
We had to sleep in Sunday morning since we spent the first hour or so in some delightful foreplay. It was my turn to drive him crazy, taking him ever so close and then running away. Our clothing was left spewed all over the place. He did promise to try and find my thong.
When we finally woke up, followed with an hour in the shower together, I called Rachel who's penthouse was only four floors up and let her know I was ready for brunch. Her response was unrepeatable even in here. Did you know women who didn't get any can be grouchy?
