Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery (26 page)

D’Vora slapped a rolled-up
magazine against the counter at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow. Her glittery purple nail polish sparkled in the sunshine pouring in through the salon’s front window.

“Y’all are NOT going to believe this!’’

She displayed the front cover of
People
. A headline screamed,
Murderous Movie: What
Really
Happened in Florida?

“Does it say if Paul, the director, has turned up yet?’’ I asked D’Vora.

Betty looked at her over the poodle perm of the bank president’s wife. “How about the shop? Does it talk about Hair Today?’’

Mama grabbed for the magazine. “Let me see. Does it mention I’m in the movie?’’

“Well, I didn’t have time to read it.’’ D’Vora ducked out of Mama’s reach, hugging the magazine to her ample breast. “I ran right over as soon as I saw the magazine in my mailbox.’’

It’d been fifteen days since the movie people packed their gear and exited Himmarshee; two weeks since Savannah was arrested on murder charges. We all gathered around the counter as D’Vora flipped open the magazine and leafed through the pages. The banker’s wife got up, too, her protective cape billowing around her like a lavender sail.

The first page of the article showed a big picture of Savannah, sitting in leg shackles in a hallway of the courthouse before her first appearance. Shackles. You’ve got to love our criminal justice system in Florida.

She’d entered a plea of not guilty, of course, and everybody expected her high-powered attorney to try to cast suspicion anywhere but on Savannah. The photographer had caught the same crooked smile Mama and I had seen when we first met her; the same mad gleam in her eye I originally took for playfulness. Her attorney was right beside her, whispering in her ear. He looked a lot less playful than she did.

Photos of the stars of the movie ran along the right-hand side of the page.

“Ooooh, there’s that Greg Tilton. He’s gorgeous.’’ Mrs. Bank President clutched a hand over her heart.

Tilton would no doubt be pleased his picture was first: top billing. “I could have been killed!’’ The caption underneath was a quote from the action hero.

Jesse looked horrible in her photo, not to mention high. “Oh, my! I didn’t know they were allowed to use a picture of her shooting somebody the bird.’’ Mama tsked. “That poor gal still hasn’t learned that the media can be an actress’s friend.’’

Betty raised her painted-on brows.

“Mama is referring to the article about her role in the movie that Buck Aubrey put in the feed store newsletter,’’ I explained.

Mama patted her hair. “Publicity is publicity, Mace.’’

“Listen to this, y’all. It’s about Toby.’’ D’Vora began to read.

“The young star surprised Hollywood insiders when he agreed to appear as grand marshal in next year’s Gay Pride parade in Long Beach, Calif. Wyle said, ‘I look forward to a day when all people will be treated equally and accepted for who they are, whether they’re straight or gay; black or white; Christian or not
…
’”

“That doesn’t sound like too much to ask, does it, Mama?’’

“Hmm,’’ she said, but didn’t rise to my bait.

“The next bit is about the assistant director,’’ D’Vora said. “Did y’all know him?’’

“Awful man. He screamed at me the first day on the set,’’ Mama said.

“Jonathan J. Burt,’’ I said. “And I’d hardly call it screaming. He only threatened to kick her out because Mama ruined a scene when she ran in front of the cameras, waving her arms and carrying on. Then the poor guy got shot. What’s it say about him, D’Vora?’’

“He’s taking a position to monitor Hollywood movies for the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Def … Defam …”

“ ‘Defamation,’ ’’ Mrs. Banker helped out. “Our oldest son is gay.’’

If Mama had intended to do a biblical discourse on homosexuality, the revelation by the wife of a community pillar cut her short.

“Still no sight of the director,’’ Betty said, reading over D’Vora’s shoulder.

“Well, Paul won’t get away with it,’’ Mama said. “If Carlos has to hunt him down personally, he’ll catch him. Carlos Martinez always gets his man.’’

At the mention of Carlos’s name, Mama gave me a quick, guilty glance. An uncomfortable silence descended. Only Mrs. Bank President was unaware of the history, hard feelings, and pain attached to that name.

Betty changed the subject. “How do you suppose they’ll finish the movie without a director?’’

“I’m sure Barbara already has a list of names to bring in somebody else,’’ I said. “Norman Sydney was about to fire Paul, which is why Paul had such a powerful motive to get rid of him.”

A pout parked itself on Mama’s face.

“What?’’ I asked.

“I just hope the new director recognizes the star quality Paul saw in me.’’

“Well, Paul saw something in you, all right.’’

When Betty and D’Vora snickered, I felt bad. “I’m just kidding, y’all. Mama did a fantastic job with her scene. She
killed
. Right, Mama?’’

She fluttered her lashes modestly. “All I did was employ the methods of the great acting coach, Lee Strasberg. I tapped into my ‘affective memory.’’’

“Say what?’’ D’Vora scrunched up her face like she was doing calculus.

“Don’t ask,’’ I said.

“What happened to Paul’s girlfriend, Barbara?’’ Mama asked. “Did she help him get away?’’

“She says no,’’ I said. “She was busy making arrangements to get her ex-husband’s body back to Hollywood. They had the funeral two days after Savannah was arrested.’’

D’Vora’s periwinkle-shadowed eyelids suddenly went wide. She pointed out the front window. “Don’t look now, Mace, but there’s your gorgeous ex.’’

Carlos stood on the sunny sidewalk, squinting into the beauty parlor. Worried frowns passed between the four other women in the shop.

Betty aimed her comb toward the alley behind the shop. “Go on and run out the back door, honey.’’

I thought of how I’d lain in the dirt by the cow pen, praying I’d survive. I remembered the image I’d conjured of Carlos’s face, and what I promised myself if I escaped.

“No need, Betty. I think I’ll go out the front.’’

As I passed, Mama’s mouth dropped open so wide you could have run a John Deere tractor inside. Carlos smiled as I stepped out the door. I ran to him, eager to fulfill my vow to throw myself into his arms and never leave. Ever since the movie people departed, I’d been fulfilling it every chance I could.

I saw the astonishment on Mama’s face, now pressed against the window. She hadn’t suspected a thing about Carlos and I getting back together. As we stood in front of the shop, kissing in full view of Himmarshee’s biggest gossips, I heard a horn blow on Main Street.

A battered white pickup rattled past. Jeb Ennis leaned out the window, waving his cowboy hat. A silly grin split his face. He shouted, “Hey! Why don’t you two lovebirds go get a room?’’

We pulled apart. Carlos’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “That sounds like a pretty good idea,
niña
. We can go to my apartment. I rented us a movie.’’

I gave him a long look.

“I’ve had enough of Hollywood,’’ I said. “How about we skip the movie, and go straight to the matinee?’’

_____

Carlos and I snuggled together on his couch. To build back the energy we spent on our movie-free matinee, Carlos made us a snack of buttered popcorn. It filled a bowl on my lap.

Smoothing a strand of my mussed-up hair, he smiled at me. I grinned back, hoping there were no stray kernels caught in my teeth.

“How come you keep staring at me?’’ I asked.

“Just happy to have you here,
niña
.’’

I kissed him. “The feeling is mutual.’’

I dug to the bottom of the popcorn bowl, searching out my favorite half-burned, half-popped kernels. My fingers found a foreign object that didn’t feel at all like popcorn. It was circular and hard, with something pointy on top. Fishing it out, I placed it in the palm of my hand. Surrounded by a few stray kernels, a diamond winked at me from a golden band.

I looked up at Carlos. His dark eyes met mine. I saw love, and strength, and maybe a bit of nervousness there.

“Is this what I think it is?’’

He nodded. “Even with all our ups and downs, we belong together, Mace. I love you; and I think you love me, too.’’

It was my turn to nod. “I realized just how much in that cow pen, when I thought I’d never see you again.’’

He lowered himself from the couch to the floor, where he got onto one knee. “I want us to be together.’’ He gently took the ring from my hand, and then held it up to me. “Will you marry me?’’

I swallowed and took a deep breath. Then I said yes.

When he slipped the ring on my finger, I wasn’t surprised at all to see it was a perfect fit.

The End

Charles Trainor, Jr.

About the Author

Like Mace Bauer’s, Deborah Sharp’s family roots were set in Florida long before Disney and
Miami Vice
came to define the state. She does some writing at a getaway overlooking the Kissimmee River in the wilds north of Okeechobee, and some at Starbucks in Fort Lauderdale. As a Florida native and a longtime reporter for
USA Today
, she knows every burg and back road, including some not found on maps. Here’s what she has to say about Himmarshee:

Home to cowboys and church suppers, Himmarshee is hot and swarming with mosquitoes. A throwback to the ways of long-ago southern Florida, it bears some resemblance to the present-day ranching town of Okeechobee. The best thing about Mace and Mama’s hometown: it will always be threatened, but never spoiled, by suburban sprawl.