Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery (4 page)

“I can’t believe Greg
Tilton moved that poor dead man off the fence.’’ My sister Maddie polished off one chicken drumlet and reached for another. “Maybe he thought he was doing a scene from
Rescue.
’’

“Which one is that now?’’ I asked.

Maddie snapped her fingers in front of my face, but since they were slick with pesto sauce, it was more of a
sssttt
than a
snnaap
.

“The one about paramedics. You’re going to have to study up if you want to be in the film industry, Mace. People will expect you to know these things.’’

“I’m moving horses and critters from place to place, Maddie. I’d hardly say that makes me a Hollywood insider.’’

“It’s an important job, Mace,’’ Marty said.

“Do you suppose I can get Greg’s autograph now?’’ Mama asked.

“Still not a good time, Mama,’’ I warned.

We’d been bringing my sisters up to speed on the morning’s events when Mama’s new cousin by marriage stopped by the table in her catering tent to talk.

“So, whaddaya think of my prosciutto and provolone panini?’’ C’ndee Ciancio hovered over us, beaming proudly.

“Well, honey, I’m not sure I could spell it, but I sure can eat it.’’ Mama took a bite to demonstrate. “It’s delicious, almost as good as the pulled pig on a bun at the Pork Pit.’’

Maddie had taken a couple of days off from her school principal’s job, while her assistant principal filled in. Marty was on vacation from her job at the Himmarshee library. Both had agreed to help me with the animals, mainly so they’d get the chance to see some Hollywood stars. So far, I hadn’t needed their help. But that didn’t stop them from coming out to the location shoot, especially after Mama called to tell them about the murder.

Mama’s new friend, the security man, only needed one look at the doll-sized Marty—big blue eyes, shiny blond hair, and a face so innocent it’d break your heart. He waved her and Maddie over to the tent to join us. My big sister didn’t even need to pull out her scary school administrator routine.

Now, C’ndee glanced around the tent, which was set up next to her catering truck. “Where’s Sal?’’ She raked bright red fingernails through her mane of black hair. “He loves my sandwiches.’’

Sal was helping the police keep looky-loos away from the corral, now a crime scene. Carlos was working out there, too.

“Wrap up a couple of those pan-ninnies in a little to-go bag, hon. I’ll make sure Sal gets them when I leave,’’ Mama said.

“Will do, Rosalee. I better run. Enjoy, girls.’’

Maddie waved goodbye with a drumstick. Marty toasted C’ndee with a glass of sparkling Italian soda. “I love this raspberry flavor,’’ she called after her. “It may replace sweet tea as my favorite.’’

Over the last several months my sisters and I had become friendly with C’ndee. We forgave her for bulldozing her way into Mama’s wedding, not to mention for being from New Jersey. Her new business, C’ndee’s Ciao, was doing well, even though no one in Himmarshee could pronounce it. The second word is Italian, and you’re supposed to say it like “chow.’’

“Mace, pass me some of that
aioli
, would you?” Maddie pointed her drumlet at a little pot of sauce on the table. The Pork Pit would call it mayonnaise.

“A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips, Maddie.’’

My older sister shot Mama a glare. “I happen to be big-boned.’’

Marty nodded. “That’s true. She is, just like the two of us are little shrimps, and Mace is tall and slender. That’s genetics, Mama.’’

“Well, I read in the
Enquirer
that Kelly Conover triumphed over her weight issues with a cabbage soup diet. Maybe you could try that, Maddie.’’

“Humph!’’ Maddie harrumphed, a habit she must have gotten from Mama in her chromosomes.

Marty changed the subject from food to a less emotional topic. “Are you going to solve the murder, Mace?’’

“I’m staying out of it. These Hollywood people are crazy.’’

Marty got a dreamy look on her face as she sipped her raspberry drink. “Do you suppose Toby and Jesse are really a couple?’’

Mama slathered her panini with
aioli
. “Well, they were definitely coupling in her trailer. Somebody ought to call the scandal sheets and tell them about
that,
especially after Jesse sat right on Oprah’s couch and told her she’d gotten treatment for her sex addiction.’’

“Sisters, you should have seen Jesse get all meek and scared-looking when the producer’s ex-wife yelled at her,’’ I said. “Total transformation. Something is definitely up with that Barbara Sydney.’’

Maddie took a sip of Marty’s soda, and made a face. “Ewww, needs sugar. Wouldn’t that be horrible to be Barbara, and find out your ex had been murdered?’’

Mama shrugged, and swiped her knife through Maddie’s pesto. Maddie pulled the plate out of her reach. “I can see you’re all choked up, Mama. It's amazing you being so upset over the murder hasn’t spoiled your appetite, or stopped you from stealing off my plate.’’

“Well, of course I mourn the passing of any one of God’s creatures, girls.’’

“While you’re mourning, you might want to wipe that dribble of pesto off your chin,’’ Maddie said.

Mama dabbed, and then put down her sandwich. “Truth is, I can’t muster up a single tear for that man. All I knew about him is he screamed at me for no good reason this morning. The great acting coach Stella Adler might say I could channel the anger I felt at him into my craft, if I can get a part.’’

Mama had been poring over library books on the actor’s “craft,’’ which was vaguely troubling to my sisters and me. I was about to tell them why Norman had screamed at her, when a ruckus broke out from the serving line. Jesse’s voice was raised in an angry shout.

“I won’t eat that! It’s not vegetarian anymore. You got blood from the roast on the serving utensil.’’ She batted at C’ndee’s spoon. “Where’d they hire you? The animal slaughterhouse?’’

C’ndee jabbed back at her with the big spoon, bringing it just inches from Jesse’s nose. She ratcheted up the volume on her Jersey foghorn voice. “This spoon did not touch
anything
but your precious vegetable medley. Although from what I’ve read about all the crap you put into your body, a little beef
jus
would be the least of your worries.’’

Jesse slammed her tray on the table. “Paul! You’re the director. Direct yourself over here and take care of this. This woman is trying to poison me. I want her ass fired!’’

I looked around the catering tent. Paul Watkins was nowhere in sight.

“Will somebody go find our has-been director, PLEASE?’’ Jesse’s face was red, and the veins stood out on her neck. She screamed, “I want this bitch fired! Now!’’

She glared at C’ndee, who backed down not one inch. “Just try to get me canned.’’ C’ndee’s spoon passed so close to the young star’s head, it parted her hair. “You’ll find your latest Teen Diva Meltdown posted on the Internet faster than you can say ‘tweet.’’’

Jesse hauled back and slapped C’ndee across the face. If this were six months ago, I’d be rooting for Jesse to kick C’ndee’s butt all the way back to Hackensack. But I liked Sal’s cousin now, so I was pulling for her as the two women circled one another.

“Odds favor C’ndee,’’ I said.

“If she gets Jesse on the ground, she’ll have her,’’ Maddie agreed. “She’s got a sixty-pound advantage, at least.’’

“Yeah, but Jesse can kick like a mule,’’ Mama said. “Remember that little show with the cowboy hat this morning, Mace? C’ndee better back out of range and keep her eye on that gal’s pointy-toed boots.’’

We were settling in for a good catfight when Sal appeared from nowhere. He moved surprisingly fast for a man who stood six-foot-four and weighed more than three hundred pounds. He stepped in between the two warring women, separating them with his bulk.

“Break it up! Back to your corners, da two of youse.’’

“She started it.’’ C’ndee rubbed at her cheek.

Sal had one massive hand on C’ndee’s shoulder. He gave her a hard shake. “You oughta be ashamed of yourself. You’re the adult here.’’

He shook Jesse with the other hand, but not as hard. “And you need to grow up and stop acting like a spoiled brat. We’ve got bigger things to worry about than whether you like your lunch. A man died here this morning.’’

“Big F’ing Deal.’’

Sal stared at Jesse. Maddie tsked. Even C’ndee gasped at the young woman’s callousness.

“Look, I couldn’t stand Norman. Neither could anyone else, though we’re bound to hear all kinds of wonderful eulogies now that he’s dead.’’

People had stopped eating in every corner of the tent. All eyes were on Jesse. She tossed her hair and continued.

“I could act like I’m all mournful and sorry, but I’m not. The man was a pig. Call me whatever you want, but I’m not a hypocrite. The only acting I do is for the cameras.’’

With that, Jesse gave a final shake of her curls. Then she exited, stage left.

“Bad news.’’ I found
Carlos stepping out of the “honey wagon,’’ a trailer with toilets for the movie crew. “An army of paparazzi is marching our way.’’

He scowled at me. I raised my hands, surrender style.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Plus, it gets worse: The gals from Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow beauty parlor called Mama. They say it’s all over town that your police chief is going to be interviewed on three different cable news shows tonight.’’

He rolled his shoulders; a vein pulsed at his temple. “We don’t know squat yet. I hope he doesn’t oversell.’’

“You mean brag about how his hotshot homicide detective from
Miamuh
is going to hunt down and catch the perpetrator of this
hay-en-ous
crime?’’

Wincing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that, yeah.’’

I took a quick look around the movie production’s outdoor encampment, known in Hollywood lingo as base camp. Transformed from ranchland, it was a small city of semi trucks and white trailers. Some held movie-making essentials, everything from props and wardrobe, to cameras and lights. Others housed office equipment. Red stars on several trailer doors denoted actors’ quarters.

Awnings had been rolled out and portable tents erected to shield cast and crew from the searing Florida sun. With the murder interrupting the shooting schedule, the movie people sat alone or in small groups. Some talked; others read. The catered lunch was over, but the craft services truck was busy, as cast and crew helped themselves to cold drinks, sweets, and afternoon snacks.

No one seemed to be paying attention to Carlos and me, standing beside a plastic picnic table behind a towering pallet of bottled water. Rolling his shoulders again, he kneaded the back of his neck.

“Have a seat,’’ I said. “Let me see if I can get some of those kinks out.’’

He settled sideways, straddling the bench seat. I sat behind him, my legs on either side of his rear. The skin at the insides of my thighs felt hot where it touched his hips. Softly, I traced a cowlick that defies the straight hairline at the back of his neck. Then I went to work, massaging out the tension and stress trapped in his neck and shoulders.

“Ahh,’’ he moaned. “That’s great. You can go harder if you want.’’

Harder is exactly where I wanted to go, but I restricted myself to the knots in his neck. I ratcheted up the pressure. A grunt escaped his lips, and I knew I was getting the job done.

Strong hands are a benefit of being the kind of girl who rode right alongside the boys in high school rodeo. These days, I easily heft forty-pound bags of animal chow at the makeshift wildlife shelter I established at Himmarshee Park. And I’ve won more than a few rounds of beer in bars, arm-wrestling tough-guy wannabes.

Like my cousin Henry always says, “It’s not bragging if it’s fact.’’

For the next several moments, I rubbed. When I quit, Carlos rolled his head. I heard a couple of soft
pops.
He leaned back against me and sighed. “You’re a miracle worker, Mace.’’

“You don’t have to leave a tip, just return the favor.’’

He shifted to look over his shoulder at me, a half smile on his lips. “Oh, I intend to.’’ His black eyes smoldered. “I have a long list of ways I plan to return the favor.’’

“I’ll take you up on all of them, after you solve the case.’’

As soon as I saw the furrowing between his eyes, I realized I’d said the wrong thing. Again.

“Uhmm … I didn’t mean it’s
contingent
on you solving the case. I’d feel the same way about you even if you never solved another case.’’

He cocked his head at me, the frown line getting deeper.

“I mean,
of course
you’ll solve the case, Carlos. You’ll work it out. You always do. You’re an incredible detective …’’

He put a finger to my lips. The frown faded. “It’s okay,
niña
. I know what you mean. It’s just that these film people are a different breed. I feel like I did when I was nine years old and came to this country from Cuba. I need a guide, or a translator, or something.’’

His eyes roamed around the tented quadrangle outside the trailers. They caught, and stayed, on Kelly Conover, seated a short distance away in a camp chair in the shade.

“Maybe she’s your gal,’’ I said. “She knows everybody on the set. And she speaks Hollywood.’’

Carlos rubbed his jaw, thinking. The tendon in his forearm tensed, exposed by the rolled-up sleeve of his white dress shirt. I had the urge to trace it with my tongue, traveling up along his arm, and then continuing on a steady path across his broad chest, up the other shoulder, lingering on his neck, and then onward until my mouth met the full, masculine curve of his lips.

But we were in professional mode, so I tamped down my naughty thoughts. Just to be safe, I plunged my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

“Go ahead and talk to her,’’ I said. “It might help the investigation. You know you want to.’’

Gazing at Kelly across a short expanse of well-trodden pasture, he licked his lips. I chose to interpret this is a sign of nervousness, not desire. “She does seem well connected,’’ he said.

“Well, of course she does, Carlos. She’s been around for who knows how many years.’’

Meow!

With my eyes following him as he strode toward Kelly, I didn’t notice Maddie sidle up beside me.

“I’m surprised you let him go.’’ Maddie shoveled in a spoonful of chocolate chip ice cream, a craft services treat.

I turned. Marty stood watching Carlos, too. Mama wasn’t with them. I hoped she was staying out of trouble.

“It’s a free country, sisters. Besides, Carlos and I are past all those games.’’ I swiped a finger through Maddie’s bowl. “Mmm, good. We’re in an adult relationship. I’ve moved on from junior high.’’

Marty stuck in a spoon and took a bird-sized bite of ice-cream. Maddie shot us both a look, and yanked the bowl tight against her chest.

“So, you’re ready to get married, then?’’ Marty turned her blue eyes on me, her gaze as sweet as a baby’s. But I recognized the goading tone. I backpedaled, just as she probably knew I would.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve still got time to walk down the aisle.’’

“Not as much time as you think,’’ Maddie butted in. “You’re not getting any younger.’’

I glanced toward Carlos. Kelly was standing now, with a hand on his arm. That famous body of hers was plastered against his side. He swallowed like a high school freshman asking out the homecoming queen. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. Kelly laughed, a seductive purr.

“Better stand back, Maddie. You might get burned from the steam pouring out of Mace’s ears,’’ Marty said.

Our big sister surveyed the set of my mouth, which I knew was pretty grim. She took in the way I held my arms, one clutching the other, tight across my chest.

“Oh, yeah. You’re an adult now. Maybe you can get Marty to go pass a note to Carlos during recess:
Do you still like Mace? Check yes or no
.’’

I was thinking up a smart remark when a hush fell over the tented area. It was followed by the sound of breathless murmuring. “Talent on set,’’ someone said, and I heard a snicker.

Greg Tilton paused. When nearly every eye was on him, he puffed out his chest and John-Wayne-walked to the coffee urn in the craft services truck. I swear he flexed his bicep before reaching for a cup.

“Why do these Hollywood people always look like they’re making an entrance in a Broadway play?’’ I asked.

Neither of my sisters answered. Both stared at Tilton as if mesmerized by a cloud of golden stardust around his body. I don’t think either of them was breathing.

“He’s even better-looking in person,’’ Marty finally whispered.

“The man is a Hollywood god,’’ Maddie sighed.

I tore a few paper towels off the roll on the picnic table. “Here you go, sisters. Sop up that drool before it drops off your chins and soaks through your blouses.’’

“Gross!’’ Marty jabbed me in the ribs.

“I do
not
drool.’’ Maddie surreptitiously ran the back of her hand under her mouth, just in case she was wrong. “Drooling is not becoming for a school principal.’’

We watched as Tilton, coffee in hand, strutted over to Kelly Conover. Carlos turned unreadable eyes and an impassive face toward him. Tilton’s arrival gave me the excuse I needed to get closer to eavesdrop more easily on my boyfriend and the gorgeous actress. My sisters moved right along with me.

Tilton leaned toward Kelly. As he whispered something in her ear, he grabbed hold of her elbow. She tugged backwards, but he stepped with her. He looked to be hanging on even tighter. Possessive.

“Were they ever an item?’’ I asked under my breath.

My sisters shrugged.

“We’ll have to find out what it says in
People
magazine. The shampoo girl at Hair Today will definitely know,’’ I said.

“Mama will know. He’s her favorite actor,’’ Marty said.

Kelly inched back some more, and Tilton quickly closed the gap between them. Carlos put a heavy hand on the action star’s shoulder.

“The lady isn’t interested.’’ His voice was quiet. Dangerous. “Why don’t you back off ?’’

Wisely, Tilton did just that. He dropped his co-star’s elbow and gave a good-natured shrug. “Sorry, Kel. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m not myself.’’

His gaze returned to Carlos. “Thanks, man. I need someone to keep me in line. You’re the real deal, you know that?’’

Carlos raised an eyebrow. His face was still closed; hard-looking. It was his Miami face.

Tilton went on, “Being a cop and all. A detective, I mean. I just respect you guys on the force so much. I always end up acting like a complete idiot when I get around real cops. I’ve played so many—not to mention firefighters, paramedics, and soldiers. I try to act too familiar.’’

Tilton kicked self-consciously at the ground. Could that be a blush spreading up his neck?

“I forget I’m playing a role. You guys play for keeps.’’ He stuck out a hand toward Carlos. “I’m sorry, man, for being a jerk.’’

Carlos hesitated just a second or two, and then shook. The tense posture of his body seemed to relax, the line of his jaw softened. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was something less than a scowl.

Just as Carlos opened his mouth to respond, a gunshot ripped through the air. In one fluid motion, he drew his own weapon, whirled toward the sound, and shouted out a command.

“Everybody, get down!’’

I didn’t argue, scrambling under a table for cover. My sisters followed. Most everyone followed suit, including Tilton and Kelly. I peeked out from behind a plastic tablecloth. Apart from Carlos, Toby Wyle was the only person I saw still standing. I pulled the cloth aside and pointed, so my sisters could also see the young star.

White-faced and trembling, gun still in his hand, Toby stared across the tent. My eyes followed his and found Johnny Jaybird, the assistant director. He was hanging on to the back of a folding chair, trying to stand.

“Place the weapon on the ground,’’ Carlos shouted. “Slowly.’’

Toby looked at the gun he held like it was a foreign object that had magically come into his possession. He stared again at Johnny Jaybird, who had knocked over the chair. Johnny staggered, clutching his side. A dark stain seeped through his pearl-colored cashmere sweater.

“Put it down!’’ Gun drawn, Carlos closed in on Toby.

The teenager’s eyes were enormous in his colorless face. He looked once more at Johnny, and then at the gun in his hand. He dropped to his knees, the gun dangling inches from the ground.

It landed with a thud, just as Johnny Jaybird collapsed onto the floor.