Divas Do Tell (32 page)

“If they’re not, we should tell them,” said Bitty. “Remember, their budget isn’t big, and they can’t afford to check all these things.”

“Their budget isn’t that slashed, Bitty,” said Rayna with a laugh. “They can still do all the things police need to do to catch murderers.”

“Well, we’ll see, I suppose. It seems to me that the suspect pool is growing larger, not smaller. Next thing you know we’ll
all
be under investigation for murder.”

Dixie Lee nearly dropped her cup but managed to catch it just in time. “Oh, excuse me. I guess I’m just clumsy,” she murmured as she carefully set the empty cup and saucer back onto the silver tray atop the ottoman.

Fortunately, Bitty didn’t have a meltdown of any kind at the close calamity.

Rayna set her cup of coffee on a small side table. “Well, I guess it’s no secret to Sandra, but Rob told me that Simon Donato has contacted Bruce Wallace to take Buck’s role in the movie.”

Sandra tilted her head to one side, her hazel eyes huge and bright. “Bruce was mentioned by Simon,” she said, “but I hadn’t realized he’d already made a decision. This is a lovely surprise.”

I asked, “Are you acquainted with Bruce Wallace?”

Sandra laughed, her expression amused. “A little. I was married to him for three years. It was a while ago, of course. Bruce was playing in dinner theaters and got a walk-on in one of my pictures. We met at crafty, and the rest is history. A short history, I’m afraid. We just didn’t work out but parted quite amicably. I’m sure Simon has left me a message giving me the good news.”

“I remember your wedding to Bruce,” said Gaynelle. “I thought it very romantic. You both looked so sweet walking along the beach hand in hand. You were absolutely radiant.”

Sandra smiled. “It was a lovely time. If Bruce signed a deal, it will be good to see him again after all these years. So tell me: did you see my film
River, Wild and Free
?”

Gaynelle nodded. “It was a magnificent performance. River was so beautiful, vulnerable, a tragic heroine and yet hopeful at the same time. You were almost too beautiful to be real.”

“Oh, I saw that too,” said Cady Lee. “You were wonderful. I cried at the end when River had to leave her home behind.”

“Yes, but she was going to a new life,” said Sandra. “She had hope and promise before her after all the tragedy she’d endured. A fresh beginning.”

As they discussed the movie that I didn’t remember at all, I happened to catch the look on Dixie Lee’s face. It was dark and rather brooding, as if she’d just seen or heard something that bothered her. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet during the dinner, and even now, settled back in the cushions of the loveseat, she added very little to the conversation. I couldn’t decide if it was because she didn’t want to risk a confrontation with Bitty, or if Cady Lee had poked a few Valium down her throat.

As soon as she looked up and saw me watching her, Dixie Lee smiled as if nothing was wrong, but I was pretty certain there was something very wrong. I wondered what it could be.

Then Bitty looked over at her and said, “So tell me, why did you use a pen name on your book, Dixie Lee? Don’t authors usually use their own names?”

Shrugging, Dixie Lee said, “Since it’s a work of fiction, and the narrator is in first person, I chose to use the fictional name for artistic purposes.”

“Artistic purposes? I see.”

Since it’s a cardinal rule not to be rude to a guest, and Bitty was hosting our little affair, I knew she wouldn’t go too far even when that guest was an old enemy; it was what she didn’t say that hung in the air.

Bright color stained Dixie Lee’s cheeks as she regarded Bitty. “I’m proud of my work. It speaks for itself in terms of sales and reviews. I wanted to represent the turbulent times of the Civil Rights era and the struggle of people who deserve equality. Billy Joe and Susana’s story is a tragic reminder of those times and the racial divide that existed. If I erred, the mistake is mine alone, and I’ll take responsibility.”

For a moment it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop on the thick Persian carpet. Then Bitty nodded and said, “I appreciate your candor, Dixie Lee.”

Gaynelle spoke up. “Perhaps it was a story that truly needed a happy ending after all. I’m glad you gave it one.”

Dixie Lee smiled, and the awkward moment passed. It seemed that some kind of détente had been reached between Bitty and Dixie Lee. I had no idea how long or if it would last, but it was a welcome relief. I just knew not to get too used to it.

Chapter 17

“I’M SO PROUD of you, Bitty,” I said, and she tucked her feet under her and patted her gargoyle on the head before reaching for her wine on the small table next to her overstuffed chair. “Everything was wonderful.”

We were in her small parlor; everyone had left, Kinzey had cleaned up, and Bitty had paid her quite handsomely for her work, and now we were alone. I had a small window of time before I had to leave for my animal welfare job, so was sipping another cup of coffee as we relaxed.

“It was a lovely afternoon, wasn’t it,” she agreed with me. “Dixie Lee was very nice. I had to look several times to be sure it was her and not someone dressed up to look like her.”

“She was quiet,” I agreed. “What did you think of her explanation regarding the book?”

“She seemed very sincere.”

I had to agree again. “Yes, she did. Maybe we’ve misjudged her.”

“Or maybe she’s feeling the police closing in on her.”

I sighed. “That’s always a possibility.”

Bitty smiled. “I know.”

“Sandra seemed surprised about Bruce Wallace. I’m assuming Simon forgot to mention his joining the cast. Was Sandra’s break-up with Wallace amicable?”

“Where have you been for the last ten years? It was in all the scandal mags. Bruce found a lot younger new love and dumped Sandra. Then he dumped the new love. Sandra took it harder than the new love did, though. I guess because he was so much younger than her, and she took it personally. I think his reason was just because men can be such dogs. Always on the hunt, like a beagle sniffing out a coon, just nose to the ground and testosterone raging.”

“Some beagles are female,” I reminded her, but she dismissed her flawed allegory with a wave of her hand.

“Bruce is gorgeous, another one of those
People
magazine’s Most Handsome actors they put on the cover every year. He just bounces from new love to new love. I’m sure Sandra is over him by now.”

“I’d hope so if it happened ten years ago.”

“Well, sometimes it can be traumatizing getting over someone you thought was your soul mate,” said Bitty, and I remembered how she’d had such a terrible time getting over her first love so many years before.

“But you got over Frank,” I said. “Although you did marry another Frank, and I always thought that you were just trying to replace the first one.”

“Franklin was nothing like Frank, though,” she replied. “I don’t know what I was thinking. He turned out to be a nightmare. In fact, the next three husbands were nightmares after I divorced Frank. Now I have Jackson Lee, and he’s nothing like any of them. I’m not sure we’ll ever get married. I’ve had enough wedding bells to last me a while. But if you get married again, I’ll help you arrange your wedding. I think I’d be good at that. We can have it at Montrose out in the garden. June is a good time, when all the roses are in bloom, and we can do an arbor covered in white roses—oh, Trinket, just think of how lovely it’s going to be . . .”

Aghast, I stared at her. “I have no intention of ever marrying again. Once was enough. I like things just the way they are right now.”

“You might change your mind,” said Bitty. “Kit seems perfect for you.”

“I think so too, that’s why I don’t want to ruin it.”

Bitty took another sip of her wine and just smiled.

On the way home I thought about Kit and how our relationship had developed into a nice, comfortable routine of seeing each other as our lives permitted, being close without any commitments, and enjoying each other immensely when we were together. I liked it that way. It was a relief after the last few years of my marriage to Perry. He wasn’t a bad person; he was just still one of the Lost Boys unwilling to grow up and wanting to linger in his own personal Never-Never Land. By the time we divorced I was more than ready to part. So was he. We ended up being two entirely different people than we were in our late teens. I guess that’s one of the costs of growing older. Our best collaboration was our daughter Michelle. I just wished she lived a lot closer so I’d see her more often.

By the time I had the feline jamboree fed and watered, Brownie let out to do his routine perambulation around the yard baying at squirrels despite the frigid temperatures, and my pieces of leftover Lane cake tucked into the refrigerator, I was pooped. I sank down into the kitchen chair and waited for Brownie to finish his dinner so I could clean his dish and then take my shower. It’d been a long day.

I must have fallen asleep. I say that only because the sudden ringing of the kitchen phone on the wall jarred me, and my head fell off my elbow-propped palm. I caught the phone before the caller hung up and was pleased to hear my mother on the other end of the line.

“Trinket, dear, is that you?”

As if an intruder would answer the phone. “Hi, Mama. Are y’all having fun?”

“A glorious time. How are things there?”

“Probably not nearly as glorious as in Italy.” I waited for my mother to give me the bad news that they’d decided to remain in Italy for an extended length of time and to send over their furniture, or they needed ransom money. I was pleasantly surprised.

“We’ll be home in three days. Daddy will give you the details about our flight times and numbers. Can you pick us up at the airport?”

“I defy anyone to try and stop me.”

Mama laughed. “How is the weather there?”

“Cold and icy. It’s February. We’ll either have snow and ice, or all the daffodils will bloom tomorrow.”

“It’s normal, then. Are the movie people still in town?”

I hesitated. Apparently the news about the murders hadn’t yet reached Italy. So I said, “As far as I know they’re still filming. I heard they’ve done a few location shots in Memphis.”

“It sounds exciting.”

I thought
You have no idea
, but I didn’t say anything. Daddy got on the line and gave me all the flight numbers and times for their arrival, and when we hung up I looked down at Brownie and said, “Your mama’s on the way home, you little horror.”

He thumped his tail against the floor. He doesn’t mind the name calling as long as I keep feeding him and let him sleep on the bed with me.

Even though I’d eaten my way through several courses of Southern food that afternoon I had to have a bit of Lane cake before I went to bed. If I kept up the caloric intake I was going to need to exercise more than my jaw muscles; I could see that coming. I waddled off to bath and bed with all good intentions to get up early and go for a brisk run. Or maybe a sedate walk.

So it was a relief when I woke up the next morning to a half inch of snow and quarter inch of ice on the grass and road. That ruled out my exercise regime. It also effectively grounded me. It wasn’t that I couldn’t drive on snow or ice. I’d lived in northern states and learned what not to do, at any rate. It was that very few Mississippi natives know how to drive on snow and ice. Their vehicles become projectiles skimming over the roads. They form lines at grocery stores longer than the lines at Graceland for the annual candlelight vigil. Combine those two things, and getting out on the roads is tantamount to a suicide mission.

I gleefully envisioned a day spent at home in peace and quiet, sitting in front of the fire, the TV tuned to a classic music station, leisurely drinking hot cocoa and relaxing.

That’s what I envisioned.

Reality came a’calling in the form of a red BMW and blonde bubble-headed cousin. I heard the beeping of her horn in the driveway just as my hot cocoa cooled to drinking temps and my marshmallows were a gooey film on top. Okay. There went the peace and quiet. Maybe she’d surprise me and want to relax. Or maybe she’d be on her way somewhere else and wouldn’t stay long. I’d take either one of those things.

I reached the back door just as Bitty tottered up the steps in her Eskimo fashion for the day, shearling-trimmed boots with heels that should never see ice, black wool pants and coat, and a red cap covering most of her hair. Tucked into her usual sling, Chen Ling peeked out with her little bug eyes.

“What brings you out on such a horrible day?” I asked as Bitty made her way across the deck and into the kitchen. “Is your phone out of order?”

“Don’t be silly, Trinket. I knew you’d be bored out here by yourself and that you aren’t good at driving in the snow, so I decided to come liberate you. Now get dressed. I won’t take no for an answer. I can’t bear to think of you sitting out here all alone.”

“Uh, I’m fine. Really. I have hot cocoa. And a fire. I can’t leave a fire burning and run off somewhere.”

“I’m good at putting out fires, so I’ll do that while you go upstairs and dress.”