Divas Do Tell (30 page)

“Not even the possibility that he was her grandfather? That her mother was his daughter? She could be looking for revenge,” suggested Bitty.

“We’ve covered this before,” I pointed out. “It’s still a far-fetched motivation; and too big of a coincidence, too. It’s unlikely that Billy Joe’s granddaughter would end up as an actress with a part in a movie replaying her mother’s life in a town her mother left—well, you get the idea.”

“Just because it’s a coincidence doesn’t mean it can’t happen, Trinket,” said Bitty.

I agreed. “Yes, but we can’t rely on coincidence. We need solid evidence.”

“In other words, we need to investigate and find out just what Miss Mira Waller was doing last night when Buck was killed?” Bitty asked sweetly. “Or how convenient it is that Dixie Lee is staying just down the street? I believe I’ve suggested that a time or ten.”

I squinted at her and said, “My, my, it’s so vairy vairy wahm in heah,” which is our conversational signal to each other that it’s time to take a break from the current topic.

When our plates were cleaned of every last crumb of chocolate cream cake and our wine glasses refilled, Rayna said practically, “Our best bet is to eliminate suspects. That should lead us to only one or two individuals capable of murdering these three people.”

“Let’s start with the least likely suspects,” Gaynelle suggested. “If we can eliminate them as suspects we move on to the next, until finally we have the most likely suspect. At that point we take all the information we’ve managed to gather to the police. Is it agreed?”

We all agreed, although Bitty was a bit slower than the rest of us to surrender and give in to the inevitable. I could almost see the little hamster wheel spinning inside her head. She smiled.

“As y’all know I’m hosting another Diva Day. I think we should invite all those we suspect of committing the murders and see what happens.”

I shook my head. “Does that mean you’re inviting Allison Cramer? Mira Waller? Dixie Lee? Think of it, Bitty—all these suspects in the same place could be catastrophic.”

“And it could be someone completely different from any of those three,” Rayna said. “If we get them all together it sounds too much like an episode of
Columbo
.”

“Or Poirot,” I added. “He’s my favorite investigator. Agatha Christie was the best when it came to writing mysteries.”

“If you like the English mystery authors, read a P.D. James novel,” suggested Gaynelle. “Adam Dalgliesh is one of her best detectives, although she writes other mysteries as well.”

Bitty, not to be ignored for very long, said, “Well, I don’t know anything at all about this Adam Dogleash, but I’ve watched all the
Columbo
episodes.”

Gaynelle looked a little annoyed by Bitty’s mangling of the character’s name, so I said, “I have a few of her books on my shelf at home. She’s very good. By the way, Bitty, when is Diva Day?”

“Day after tomorrow. Since y’all are so against it I won’t invite Mira, Allison, or Dixie Lee. It’ll be just our regular Divas. And I’ve invited Sandra Brady, of course. She’s free since the movie is temporarily on hold again while they look for an actor to replace Buck.”

“So they’re going to get another actor to replace him? That’s a pretty quick decision,” I said.

Rayna got up to stack our cake plates and said, “Time is money in the movie business. If they stop production too long it costs a fortune. Rob told me that Simon Donato has already contacted another actor.”

“Good lord,” said Bitty. “Who?”

“He didn’t say. I guess it’s a good thing that only a few of Buck and Mira’s scenes have been shot. It won’t cost as much to reshoot.” Rayna shook her head. “I know it’s business and all, but it seems rather cold to pick out a replacement before Buck has been dead twenty-four hours.”

“I wonder who it is,” Bitty mused. “I can think of a few actors who might be able to take Buck’s place. There aren’t many in the right age group or as much of a star as he was. Such a pity he was murdered.”

“We don’t know that yet, Bitty,” I reminded her, but she ignored me.

“Then there’s Mira, of course,” Bitty continued. “If she’s arrested for his murder, they’ll have to replace her. You know, Brandon has been seeing Heather, and she’s been taking drama classes at Ole Miss. Maybe she could play Susana.”

“Heather is a natural blonde with pale skin,” I replied a bit testily. “She’d never tan deep enough to play the part. Besides, why drag your son’s girlfriend into this mess?”

Gaynelle said, “Mr. Donato will want someone famous if it turns out Mira Waller is responsible for Buck’s death. And that last is a long shot. We really have no idea who killed any of them.”

Bitty opened her mouth so I said quickly, “Do not say Dixie Lee did it. We don’t know that. We have to keep open minds.”

“Well, just so long as your minds aren’t so open the obvious answer escapes y’all, I don’t care,” she retorted. “Sometimes I’m right, you know.”

I hated to admit it, but she’s right about that. As amazing as it always seems, there have been times Bitty has been right in her suspicions. Perhaps a bit flawed, but right enough for her to preen like a peacock about it. I resisted walking down that path, however.

“And besides,” Bitty continued, “since the budget cuts the police don’t have the resources to check out everyone’s alibi. We can do that for them. They’ll probably be very grateful.”

I regarded her with a smile. “It’s so nice in Bitty-World, no pesky logic to get in the way, no reality checks to interfere with your thought processes.”

Bitty narrowed her eyes at me. Chen Ling growled. I ignored them both.

Rayna came back from carrying our plates to the kitchen, replenished our wine, then cleared her throat. “We can certainly check out Dixie Lee’s alibi as well as all the other suspects. Is there anyone we’ve left off the list?”

“That’s just it,” Gaynelle said. “We don’t know who else on the crew or in town making the movie, or just watching them make a movie, might bear a grudge toward any or all of the victims. We could find out a complete stranger committed these murders.”

“Or it could be one of those unsolved murders,” said Bitty. “Years from now we could be having tea and one of us would ask, ‘Who do you think killed all those people?’ and someone would answer, ‘I thought it was Dixie Lee Forsythe, but since she was murdered too maybe it was someone else.’”

“You really do live in a fantasy world, don’t you,” I remarked.

Bitty smiled. “Sometimes it’s good to daydream.”

“So what time should we be at your house for Diva Day, Bitty?” Rayna asked.

“Noon-ish is good. It’s not a real Diva Day. I just wanted Sandra to meet everyone, and we can all use a break. Besides, we need to get together and see if we can figure out the most likely suspect. Twelve heads are better than one.”

“I’m glad you’ve decided against inviting Allison and Mira,” Gaynelle said. “That wasn’t such a good idea, you know.”

Bitty sighed. “I know. We should just stick with Sandra. She’s almost one of us.”

“You mean, she’s one of us if we’re all rich, famous, and world travelers,” I pointed out. “I can’t say she’s one of us, but she does seem very nice and I think fits into our group nicely.”

“This has to be awful for her, too,” said Bitty. “I mean, they were her friends.”

“They were her co-stars,” I corrected. “A big difference. Despite Sandra being so upset by Abby’s death, I got the distinct feeling there was some kind of rivalry between them.”

“I imagine that’s true with most movie stars,” said Gaynelle. “Even though Abby wasn’t an actress she had the director’s ear. Then there’s billing, such as whose name comes first on the credits and posters, who gets the most publicity and money, all that kind of thing. It’s a cut-throat business from what I understand. All that money and fame can hardly be worth some of the stress they endure.”

“Apparently it’s worth the stress to quite a few of them,” Bitty said with a laugh. “If not, I don’t think they’d keep doing it.”

Rayna set down her wine glass. “I don’t know. Artistic expression can be very strong. If a person’s talent is as an actor, then they’re just driven to keep on. It’s rather like painting, I would imagine. Whether you’re making money or not you just have to keep doing it. If not, you begin to feel restless, incomplete, unhappy because you don’t have a canvas you’re working on, or in the case of an actor, a play or movie role.”

“Or in the case of an author,” I said, “writing a book. Look at Dixie Lee. Maybe she’s not a literary success, but she’s an entertainer.
Dark Secrets Under the Holly
may not be as worthy as a Faulkner or Hemingway, but it’s a bestseller, and it’s being made into a movie. Some of us should keep that in mind.”

Bitty stroked the top of Chen Ling’s head and said, “I know you’re talking about me. I don’t care. Dixie Lee is plagiarizing people’s lives. I don’t think it’s right.”

“She’s done no more than any true crime writer,” Rayna pointed out. “Kathy Reichs uses past cases she’s worked on to weave a story, and
Bones
is now a TV show. Why can’t Dixie Lee do the same?”

“If she’s so proud of her work then why did she use a pseudonym?” Bitty asked. “I mean,
Desirée DuBois
. Good lord.”

We had to laugh at that. “It does sound like she should be working a corner on Bourbon Street,” I admitted. “But why not invite her to Diva Day and ask her why she chose not to use her own name? After all, Cady Lee is our friend and would appreciate not being put on the spot by leaving out her sister.”

Bitty rolled her eyes. “All right, all right. I’ll invite her. But don’t be surprised if things go south. I can’t be in the same space with her longer than a minute before she gets on my last nerve. She’s like a can of gasoline at a bonfire. One little drop of her starts a helluva blaze.”

“I know,” said Rayna. “But Trinket’s right. Cady Lee is our friend, and if we leave out her sister there may be hard feelings down the road. We’ll just try to keep her busy and out of your way.”

I feared trouble, but there really wasn’t anything else we could do.

BY DIVA DAY WE’D gotten the terrible news that Buck Prentiss had been bludgeoned and then either fell or was pushed down the stairs. The cause of death was the blow to the head, but I was sure the trip down that staircase hadn’t done him any good either. I was also certain it was going to be the main topic of our conversation that afternoon.

I had arrived early to help Bitty and was whining about where she’d chosen for us to retire after our lunch. “I wish you’d entertain in the parlor instead of your living room,” I said. “That blamed antique couch is so uncomfortable.”

“It’s a settee, Trinket. It’s stuffed with horsehair. It’s not meant to be judged by today’s standards. Our ancestors sat on it without complaint.”

“Then our ancestors probably died of complications from hemorrhoids, because that’s the hardest cushion I’ve ever had the misfortune to sit on,” I replied. “Let’s move the couch from your office into the living room. It’s a lot more comfortable.”

“It doesn’t match the style or era.”

“But hemorrhoids do?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Trinket. Let’s just get the table set. They’ll be here any minute. I need to be sure everything’s staying hot in the kitchen. That stupid warmer sometimes goes out. Can you finish here without me? Or without talking about hemorrhoids?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The table had been set with her mama’s heirloom silver flatware and china, a linen table cloth, and linen napkins. Fresh flowers burst out of a cut crystal vase. Heavy sterling silver candelabras held long, flame-tipped tapers. Royal Copenhagen place settings adorned the table.

Really, Bitty puts style over comfort every time. We’d all be much more comfortable in her office. Or even downstairs in the basement that’s usually her sons’ territory. It’s decorated in Early Mobster but still a lot more comfortable than that blamed horsehair-stuffed antique settee in her living room.

“This feels more like a wake than a Diva Day,” I said to Bitty when I returned to the kitchen. She gave me a horrified look.

“Bite your tongue, Trinket. Everything has to be perfect. Do you think the Baby’s Breath is too much in the flower arrangement?”

“No. It complements the white linens. All this because of Sandra Brady? She’s been here before. She’s seen your dog squatting in the middle of a food tray, scarfing down all the pimento cheese. She’s met Miranda Watson and her pig in your living room, for heaven’s sake.”

“Which is one more reason I’d like her to leave with a good impression today. I even took Chen Ling to Luann Carey’s for a play date. She’ll bring her back later.”

“Perish the thought.”

“Don’t be hateful. I hired Kinzey to come in and help as soon as she’s out of school. She goes only half-days so should be here in an hour to help serve. Let’s put out the
hors d’oeuvres
.”

Bitty had managed to wheedle Sharita Stone into catering Diva Day since the movie set was temporarily closed down, and there was everything from Aunt Sarah’s pimento cheese to a Lane cake. For the uninitiated, a Lane cake originated in Alabama. God bless Alabama. It was first concocted by Emma Rylander Lane in 1898 and is four layers of moist sponge cake, raisins, pecans, and coconut, a wine glass of bourbon or brandy, and whipped icing. Mama lets it sit a few days before serving so the flavors meld together. It’s heaven on a plate and not for anyone under legal drinking age. The bourbon can have quite a kick.