1
Tuesday, March 5th, 1985, 7:07 P.M.
Charlotte Caffey veered her Mercedes Benz 380-SEL off the entrance ramp and onto the Ventura Highway heading westbound. She was coming from her job at the CBS Studio Center in Studio City and was heading to her home in Malibu, California. It was shortly after seven o’clock and she was hoping to be home before 8:15. Being early March, it was already dark which was a little disheartening for her. Like anyone else, she didn’t like the idea of coming home beneath the ebony skies and returning to work in the same fashion. All of this could have been avoided if her fellow producers would just work a little harder and do their jobs instead of taking three-hour lunch breaks. She was upset about being kept late and was prepared to say something about it the following day.
Charlotte had the window rolled down with her left arm leaning on the door and she was steering the car with her right hand. As she picked up speed, she rolled the window up so that she could think more clearly.
Navigating her way down the freeway, she started fumbling through her purse looking for a cigarette. She smoked more often when she was frustrated and this was one of those times. After finding a Winston Light, she hurriedly lit it up and sucked a big drag off of it. Then she had to crack the window to let the smoke out.
Her main source of frustration came from the fact that she had to stay late to discuss matters she felt could have been taken care of without her presence. In her opinion, the other producers were using her young enthusiasm to their advantage and were taking her for granted. She wondered what they were doing all day while she was busy acting on set. Whenever she broached the subject, even in a subtle way, they always had a convenient excuse for her.
But, if Charlotte was indeed agitated with her producer’s position, nobody could really tell. She flitted around the offices in her customary skirts with a sense of style and aplomb, and never let on that anything was bothering her. Her dynamic smile was contagious and her personality was warm and reassuring.
Everybody liked Charlotte.
Especially the men.
In their minds, Charlotte was the ideal woman. Not only was she the text-book definition of pretty, but she was intelligent and had legitimate business savvy. She was the perfect woman to have on your arm at a corporate function or a cocktail party. As superficial as that rationale might sound, Charlotte considered these motives whenever she was asked out on dates by these same men, and even more suspicious when it was to accompany one of them to one of those exact same formal affairs.
At first, Charlotte never really thought much about ending up with an executive sort of a guy. At least not one from the studio, anyway. She was more attracted to the musicians and songwriters that worked on the show, and to the actors that sweated it out with her on the ground floor.
All of that thought went out the window, however, when she met a man in one of the board rooms that she was immediately enchanted with.
A man that would play an important role in her life down the road.