Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery (13 page)

All of us stared
as the door of Gladys’ slammed shut. Even Henry stopped eating long enough to watch, open-mouthed, through the plate glass window as Marty marched stiffly down the sidewalk.

“And here I thought Maddie kept the whole family’s supply of sticks up her butt. What’s gotten into your little sister, girls?’’

“I guess we’re all a little tense.’’ I turned my attention to my cousin. “Seeing a body hung up like the Monday wash will do that to people.’’

“That, and watching your sister narrowly escape death from the razor-sharp pieces of an exploding light,’’ Maddie added.

Henry motioned with his coffee cup toward Mama. Still making the rounds, she’d just stuck a fork into a neighbor’s plate for a sample of egg and sausage scramble. “Your mama seems to be handling the stress pretty well.’’

“She might tell you she’s just playing a part, Henry, now that she’s Himmarshee’s own Kelly Conover,’’ I said.

Just then, the cowbells jangled on the diner’s door. “Speak of the devil,’’ Maddie whispered.

“Oh my god,’’ Henry breathed.

“Looks like the alarm clock just rang on Mama’s fifteen minutes of fame,’’ I said.

As the diners became aware of who had just made an entrance, whispers spread like ripples in a pond. One of the waitresses dropped a plate of ham and red-eye gravy. Then, complete silence descended. The cashier stopped in the middle of ringing up a check, hand hovering over the keys on the cash register. The fry cook left the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron and smoothing his balding head. One of the younger patrons fumbled for her cell phone and started snapping pictures. An older diner, the wife of the Rotary club president, slapped her hand.

“Put that camera phone down, Brianna! Miss Conover has a right to privacy. Who do you think you are? One of those smart alecks from
TMZ
?’’

Maddie put her hand to her mouth and whispered, “And who do you think has the Hollywood gossip page at TMZ.com bookmarked on her computer? Mrs. Rotary herself.’’

Kelly’s eyes met mine, and I waved her over. Henry, meanwhile, still hadn’t uttered a word. He took the napkin out of his collar, straightened his tie, and unrolled the cuffs on his light gray dress shirt. As the movie star approached, he nearly knocked over his own chair as he leapt to pull out one for her.

After everyone was settled, and Henry had mopped the drool from his chin, Kelly asked what I knew about Toby’s close call in the parking lot.

“Jesse and I had just found him, shortly before you came walking along the path,’’ I said. “He stumbled out of the woods right where we were riding.’’

“How convenient,’’ Kelly said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?’’ Henry’s sharp, defense-attorney self was warring with his bedazzled male adolescent, because he immediately grinned and added, “I’m Henry, by the way. I’m a lawyer, so I’m used to asking questions. I don’t mean any offense, Miss Conover.’’

“Call me Kelly.’’ As she turned those money-green eyes on him, Henry melted.

“Okay, then:
Kelly
. I’m a big fan.’’

“You’re a big something,’’ Maddie harrumphed.

“Anyway …” Kelly said, “I just think it’s weird Toby got hurt, and then managed to get to the exact spot where you and his little girlfriend would find him.’’

“Maybe not so much weird as lucky,’’ I said. “He needed to be checked out, and we were able to do that, and then get him to the medic.’’

“But his injuries weren’t serious, right?’’

“He was pretty banged up.’’

I was feeling strangely protective of the teen star. Maybe it was because I had watched Jesse rip out his heart and stomp on it. That had to hurt as much as his injuries from the parking lot incident.

Kelly persisted, “But it wasn’t anything life-threatening.’’

I nodded, “Right.’’

“Whose idea was it to go riding?’’ she asked.

I knew Jesse and I had talked about how I didn’t want anyone hurt with the horses, but I couldn’t actually remember whether she’d asked or I’d offered to give her a horseback lesson.

I shrugged.

“Well, who wanted to ride through that particular stretch of woods?’’

I got a quick flash of Jesse admiring the woodsy hammock.
Is it safe to ride through there?

I must have had a funny look on my face, because Kelly said: “I knew it! It was Jesse’s idea!’’

“So?’’

“Mace is right,’’ Maddie said. “Why should that make a difference?’’

It was Kelly’s turn to shrug. “I’m not sure. When you’ve been in Hollywood as long as I have, you always question what’s made out to be the truth.’’

Chin on his hands, Henry’s face was moony. “Kelly, you don’t look a day older than when you starred in the
Teenaged Detective
.” Had he heard a word of what we’d been saying?

“Thanks,’’ Kelly said, “but that was a lifetime ago. I’ve learned over time not to trust public images, and I don’t for a minute buy that clean-cut Disney-star crap surrounding Toby Wyle.’’

I thought back to him strutting out of Jesse’s trailer, zipper undone, that first day Mama and I saw him on the set. Definitely not Disney. What about Jesse? Was she playing me? I wasn’t going to share my thoughts with Kelly, though. She might be the one fooling all of us.

“So, are you suggesting Toby or Jesse may have something to gain by making Toby appear to be a victim?’’ Courtroom Henry was back, thank goodness.

“I think one or both of them had something to do with the murder. They’re trying to confuse everyone by diverting suspicion away from Toby.’’

Kelly turned those eyes on him, like deep green pools in an enchanted forest. Horny Adolescent Henry looked like he wanted to jump in for a swim.

“I don’t buy it.’’ Maddie reverted to her usual role, skeptical principal. “What’s Toby’s motive? His manager is Barbara Sydney. She’s also the ex-wife and was the current business partner of Norman, the murder victim. Toby was reportedly golden with both of them. Why would he risk that? What would he have to gain?’’

Mama had crept up to the table again, and was listening. Unnaturally quiet, she seemed aware her audience was now transfixed on a much bigger star. “I’ll tell you what Toby had to gain. Publicity,’’ she finally said. “We actors breathe it like oxygen. Isn’t that right, Kelly?’’

“I’m sorry. Have we met?’’

Kelly’s voice was cool, all Hollywood superiority. Mama’s cheeks pinked. For a moment, I thought it served her right, but then I felt sorry for her.

“That’s my mama, Rosalee,’’ I reminded Kelly, a little sharply. “She’s playing Ruby, the prostitute.’’

“Dancehall girl.’’ Mama smoothed her coiffure.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Rosalee. Of course! It’s nice to see you again.’’

Mama’s face glowed, even though everyone else at the table could tell Kelly was only being polite.

“That’s a good point you make about publicity, Rosalee. But Toby and Jesse have more publicity than they can handle right now. Negative publicity. What are the tabloids calling them? To-se? Jes-to?’’

Mrs. Rotary President leaned in from the next table. “Jeby.’’

Kelly dipped her head slightly, like a queen recognizing a loyal subject. Then she continued, “Anyway, the same thing about publicity doesn’t hold true with …’’

As her words trailed off, she studied the hands she folded on the tabletop.

“Publicity with what?’’ I asked.

She lowered her voice. “
Who
not
what
, and I don’t want to say. We go way back.’’

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone,’’ Henry said. “I’m used to respecting lawyer-client confidentiality.’’

What Henry didn’t say was: if you’re not a client, watch out. There’s not a more enthusiastic participant in the Himmarshee Gossip Hotline than Henry Bauer, Esq.

Kelly glanced around the café. All the diners suddenly seemed fascinated by their food. Forks scraped plates. Spoons clinked against coffee cups. Conversations resumed. No one wanted to look like a nosy rube. She leaned in close. We did, too.

“Greg Tilton.’’ She whispered his name. “He needs publicity, bad. The tabs don’t even bother following him around anymore. He needs a big picture.’’

Maddie said, “This picture seems pretty big.’’

Kelly regarded her hands again. Finally, she raised those green, liquid eyes to her audience.

“Yes, it is. And Norm Sydney was hacking Greg’s role to bits so Toby could emerge as the new big star of this very big film.’’

Perched on the top
rail of the horse corral, I watched across the way as Jeb and one of his ranch hands worked about two dozen head of cattle. Jeb’s cow dog gave a couple of yips, helping to drive the animals toward their pen.

It was late morning. After breakfast, my sisters and I had separated, as they had errands to finish in town. When Mama and I arrived at the movie location, she’d vanished into the hair and make-up trailer. She was probably regaling the stylists right now with her beauty tips.

Now, Jeb leaned into the small herd from the saddle of his bay gelding. He and the horse seemed as one. The animal pivoted and side-stepped, pushing against the cows and easing off as needed. It was like a dance, where all the partners knew their steps. In one fluid motion, Jeb turned and flicked his cow whip over the rump of one recalcitrant steer.

My heart thrummed, keeping time with the hoof beats. Damn if that man wasn’t a beautiful sight in the saddle.

Finally, the dog barked and snapped at the heels of the straggler. The cow trotted to catch up with the rest of the herd. The ranch hand swung shut the gate as the last animal entered the enclosure, the dog still in pursuit.

Jeb spun and galloped toward me, stopping his horse inches from the fence where I sat. He grinned, and saluted me with an index finger to the brim of his cowboy hat. His white teeth gleamed in his sun-browned face. A smear of dirt, or maybe dried manure, crossed his angled cheekbone.

“I see you’re still riding that sorry nag,’’ I said. “How old is poor Cheyenne now, about a hundred and ten?’’

He lifted the whip and pointed it at me, a smile belying the menacing gesture. “You should know better than to poke fun at a cowman’s horse. He’s twenty, and he can run circles around horses half his age.’’

He turned the horse in a couple of tight circles to demonstrate. I jumped off the rail to give the hardworking horse a pat on the neck.

“So Cheyenne’s just like you, huh? Twice as good as cowpokes half your age?’’

Jeb laughed. “Yep, I'm just like that Toby Keith song.” He started the verse. I chimed in, singing about how he might not be the man he once was, but he’s still as good once as he ever was.

We grinned at each other. Were we remembering the past? Or were we anticipating the future? Maybe it was neither. Maybe we both just liked that barroom song.

Suddenly, I noticed Jeb’s eyes had strayed from mine. He stared over my shoulder, his grin now a frown. I turned to see where he was looking. There was a man in the distance, crouched down low by the gate of the cattle pen.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?’’ Jeb’s shout was sharp, angry.

The man rose. It was Greg Tilton, seemingly noticing us for the first time. The glare of the setting sun made it difficult to see his expression.

“That’s a bad place to be, buddy.’’ Jeb’s voice was still raised to carry, but I could tell he was aiming for friendly. “Cattle can be unpredictable.’’

Tilton gave us a cheerful wave. Then he looped his thumbs in his waistband and ambled away, whistling.

“Weird Hollywood people.’’ Shaking his head, Jeb turned his attention back to me. “Now, where were we?’’

“I believe you two were doing a Dogpatch version of a duet.’’ The voice came from behind us. It held a slight accent, and a blizzard’s worth of ice.

I felt the color drain from my face. Jeb must have noticed my stricken look.

Ignoring Carlos, he tipped his hat to me. “Looks like you and Miamuh here have some business to discuss.’’ Then he turned the reins on Cheyenne, and nudged the horse with his heels.

As Jeb galloped off, silence stretched out between Carlos and me. Then, both of us started to say something at the same time.

“Jeb and I are just friends …’’

“… I can’t believe the way you …’’

I quickly motioned him to speak. “You go.’’

“I can’t believe the way you act when that cowboy is around. Yesterday, you were cuddled up to him at lunch; now he’s back, and the two of you are flirting out here. It looks to me like you never really got over him.’’ He leaned against the fence, avoiding my eyes.

“You know that’s not true.’’

“I don’t know anything. Are we together? Or would you rather be with him? Say the word, and I’m gone. I’m not desperate. I don’t want to force myself on someone who doesn’t want to be with me.’’

The ground was solid, but I felt unsteady. I grabbed his arm. “You can’t seriously believe I don’t want to be with you.’’

He pulled away, arms folded tightly over his chest. “That’s the way it looks. Or, maybe you want to be with me; but you want to be with him, too.’’

“You’re overreacting. I’ve known Jeb forever. I won’t deny
there’s history. But it’s ancient. I’ve told you that, Carlos. Why won’t you believe me?’’

He reached out to me, brushed some hair from my eyes. A shiver of desire ran up my backbone. That’s love, isn’t it?

“I want to believe you, Mace. But I’m not blind. I see the way you look at each other.’’

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Hadn’t I just been watching Jeb, thinking he looked purely gorgeous? But admiring the way he sat his horse and worked his cattle wasn’t the same as wanting him, was it? It wasn’t the same thing as being in love.

Thinking, I dug at a rock in the dirt with the toe of my boot. Carlos stroked my hair. My whole body went hot at his touch, and my heart melted with tender feelings for him. That was love. Now, I was sure.

And I was just about to tell Carlos so, when Jeb whistled, and yelled for his dog.

“Here, Nip. C’mon boy.’’

I glanced over, watching Nip squeeze under the bottom rail of the cow pen and lope toward his master. The dog’s tongue lolled from his mouth like he was smiling with the pure pleasure of his work. The sight of Nip looking so happy brought a grin to my face, too.

Carlos let the strand of hair he’d been caressing slip from his fingers. “I think that smile on your face is my answer.’’

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he turned to go.

“I was looking at the dog, Carlos,’’ I called after him. “Nip was grinning, so I was, too.’’

He didn’t look back.

“The dog’s name is right out of the book
A Land Remembered
. Every cowman in middle Florida names his dog Nip or Tuck.’’ I raised my voice. “Don’t you think that’s funny?’’

Head down, Carlos didn’t laugh, and he didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

_____

Hurricane-force winds roared. Sabal palms thrashed. Jesse, rain-soaked and desperate, struggled to make her way across a pasture in the raging storm.

Mopping water from her eyes, she stared at the whipping branches of a downed oak. The frilly hem of a child’s white dress peeked out, barely visible under the massive tree. With each step forward, the wind buffeted Jesse a half-step back.

Closer now, she stumbled to the ground and crawled the final distance. Her hand went out to touch the white hem. Lightning flashed, revealing the emotions contorting Jesse’s face: fear, grief, and an ice-cold rage. Lifting her face to the sky, she let out an anguished scream.

“And … Cut!’’ Paul Watkins said. “Nice, nice work, Jesse.’’

Unconsciously, I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled, slowly. Mama, standing beside me, heaved a deep sigh.

“My stars and garters! Jesse absolutely nailed that scene.’’

“Whew!’’ I said to Mama.

I knew it was make-believe. A fire hose sprayed “rain’’ from a 5,000-gallon tanker truck. Generator-powered wind fans with six-foot blades whipped up the tempest of the “hurricane.’’ A control box triggered movie lamps to produce dramatic “lightning’’ strikes.

And the small child, crushed by the storm-felled tree? That was a stunt dummy, outfitted in a white dress.

Yet, Jesse’s emotions seemed so real, I was caught up in the story. The scene had her searching for her character’s little sister, lost in a hurricane. My mind went back to the day my little sister, Marty, narrowly escaped the venomous bite of a rattlesnake. Watching Jesse, I felt the same clutch of fear in my stomach that I’d felt that day: What if I couldn’t save my sister?

I remembered how Jesse had quizzed me about feelings, and said she used them in her acting. I could understand the terror on her face when she saw her “sister’’ crumpled and broken, and the grief when she realized she was dead.

What I didn’t understand was the dark place Jesse went to pull up that chilling flash of rage.