Riverstar (3) (27 page)

The scene was the first in several conflict sections between the
two sisters. Cleo was holding her own, even playing against
Genevieve, who was as good as they came in this business. Bella would have
never guessed had she not known that Cleo had never filmed a professional movie in her life. She never missed a line, hit every mark Richard gave her, and adjusted after he gave her direction with every take. Genevieve, at one point, looked over at Bella and
mouthed the words, “She’s good.”

While Richard was setting up for the scene they’d film that evening after it turned dark, Bella hiked along through dead grass, heading toward Ellen White’s house. The heavy rains from earlier had ceased but the sky was dark and moody. There was a sliver of gray smoke rising from Ellen’s chimney and Bella took in a deep
breath, enjoying the scent of wood-burning smoke. When had she smelled that last? Growing up in Seattle, perhaps. In October it would suddenly be in the air. Once, walking hand in hand with her mother, she put her nose up in the air and sniffed. “Mommy, it smells like campfire.”

She reached the bank of the river. There was an old oak with a rope swing tied to it. Alder had told her of this; he often used it when he stayed with Ellen. The farmhouse and this swing, they needed children and laughter and the smell of wood smoke in the air. Would she and Ben have the opportunity to do all the living they dreamt of together? Perhaps they could live here in Lee’s farmhouse
and have babies and teach them to swim in this river with Alder and her new little niece. She went to the swing, held the rough rope between her fingers. When the weather warmed this summer, she
would come here with Alder and Ben. They would take turns swinging and she would watch. She could not swing, of course; the height as the rope glided over the water would be too frightening. But she would watch. Maybe she’d have Ben’s ring on her finger by then. Maybe there would be a wedding to plan.

She marched toward the ribbon of smoke. The grasses were wet
but her boots were high. Warmed from the exercise, she took off her fleece and tucked it under her arm, her breath not exactly labored but increased. Physical exertion after yesterday’s sedentary activity and riding on the airplane this morning cleared her mind and buoyed her spirits. Of course they would get Ben out of this. She
would have the life she wanted.

Before she knew it, she’d reached Ellen’s house. She knocked on the front door and heard footsteps before the door was thrust open, revealing Ellen. She had on an apron covered in flour and carried a rolling pin. “Bella, what a nice surprise. Come on in.” She opened the door wider and motioned for Bella to follow her.

It was warm inside and smelled of cinnamon and butter. Ellen’s house looked remarkably similar to Lee’s house. She said as much to Ellen. “Well sure, Lee’s grandfather built this house right after he
built the other. We had a tiny one-room shack for a whole year before this house was built. Let me tell you, spending a long rainy season with my husband, well, it wasn’t what you’d call a party. He
was a drinker,
you see, and a mean drunk. Used to get in the whiskey and start beating on me. I’d have to run on over to Rose’s and hide out there ‘til he sobered up.” Without pausing, she cut a piece of apple pie and put it on a plate. “You better go ahead and have a piece of this. I’ve made
plenty.” Ellen pointed to the counter. There were six pies lined up in a row. Two more, uncooked, sat by the stove. Two others were in the
oven.

“Why so many? Is there a bake sale or something?” River Valley was the type of place to have a bake sale, right? What was a bake sale for? Raising money for something, Bella supposed. Venice Beach did not have bake sales. Maybe she should learn to bake. Then she could participate in bake sales.

Ellen clapped her hands together. “Where did you go there,
sugar? Your eyes got all glazed over.”

Bella shrugged, feeling sheepish. “Just daydreaming about
learning
how to bake. Or bake sales.” She shook her head. “I don’t know
what I’m saying. I’m delirious from the last couple of days.”

Ellen was now pouring a glass of milk. “I can’t ever get Lee and Annie to eat any of my pies. Those two nitwits always worried about their weight, which is ridiculous—don’t know why you modern girls think being stick thin is attractive. What I wouldn’t have given for Ava Gardner’s figure.”

Bella dug into the pie. It was heaven: a burst of cinnamon and
apple and the crust was flaky and tasted of butter. “I may have to have another piece of this,” she said between bites. “What did you
say all these were for again? ‘Cause if it’s a bake sale, I want to buy one.”

“You just take whatever you want home. I made these for the crew. Oh, and that director Richard—what a nice man—so polite and intelligent, not at all what I would have expected from someone from Hollywood. You know, I never actually met a Jewish man before. Now don’t look at me like that. Around here we don’t have any Jews, not that I have one thing against them. Matter of fact, I’m not one much for organized religion or doctrine. Lee’s always trying to get me to go to church now she’s married to Tommy—he’s a Jesus lover, you know.” She opened the oven and leaned over, peering at her pies. “Yep, these are done.” Using oven mitts with a pattern of roosters, she pulled out the pies. Gooey sauce spilled from the sides and onto the counter. “Shoot, Bella, I never saw such a sight in my life as this movie business right here in River Valley. I hate to admit
it, but I’m a little star struck, which is downright embarrassing. But think of it! Filming a movie in the old Tucker place. Oh, Lee’s other grandmother, Rose, she was my best friend you know, she’d have gotten such a kick out of this. She practically swooned for the movies. I always thought it was a bit of nonsense but we used to go into town and watch the matinee. We’d wear our hats and our
Sunday best and Rose’s husband always sent a few extra nickels with us so we could buy a treat. Lord, that Rose loved her candies. She was a plump little thing, always sneaking a cookie even when she told me she’d like to
reduce. That’s what we called it back then, reduce. I was always
skinny as a bone. Lee took after me that way, nothing but a flat
board. The amount of cottage cheese poor Rose used to eat. That’s what all the magazines back then would tell you. Cottage cheese to reduce. Ridiculous, of course. Well, I guess. Actually, I shouldn’t say that, not having ever been on a diet in my life.”

“Ellen?”

“What’s that now?”

“Do you think Lee would rent me her house when the filming’s over?”

“I’m sure she would.” Ellen crossed her arms over her chest. “You thinking of moving here?”

Bella flushed with warmth, realizing she hadn’t told anyone out loud. “Ben and I want to get married.”

Ellen’s eyes sparkled. “Well, now, that’s a little soon, don’t you think?” But Bella could tell by the way she said it that Ellen didn’t really think it was too soon.

“Do you think love at first sight’s a real thing?”

“I most certainly do. Verle and I are the perfect example.”

“Was that how it was for you two?”

“Yes, and think about that. Both of us in our seventies, just minding our own business and boom, there was the other.”

“How come you two don’t get married?”

Ellen smoothed her apron with her hands. “He wants to. I just
don’t know if I want some old geezer in my house all the livelong
day.”

“But you said you love him.”

“I surely do. And he stays over most every night. But there’s
something to be said for us choosing the other every day instead of waking up married, obligated, so to speak. This way the romance never dies. Each day, he calls me up and asks may he come over and
I always say yes. We choose the other every time. Does that make sense?”

Bella sighed, making a heart with her fork in the leftover sauce around the empty plate. “It does. So romantic, actually.”

“Why Bella Webber, you’re nothing but a softie. I had you
pegged for a saucy, hard little thing when I first saw you traipsing around in your bikini at Drake’s.”

“That was before I met Ben. My heart’s turned into a bunch of
goo.”

“Well, now, I don’t think you two should live in sin like Verle and me. Don’t want to give you that impression one bit.”

Bella laughed. “Why not? You just said how romantic it is.”

“Yeah, but we’re not young. You two need to get married and start making some babies.”

“Oh, Ellen, I would love a baby. I mean, not right away. But I saw that swing out there by the river and all I could think of was a little boy and Alder shouting and swinging on Sunday afternoon.”

Ellen patted her arm. “That would be something.”

Bella glanced at her watch. “Yikes. I have to get back to set. We’re filming in a half hour and I have to make sure my beauties are beautiful.”

“Run along now. You tell Richard I’ll bring the pies over later
tonight.”

“Los Angeles caterers have nothing on you, Ellen.”

“Amen to that.”

***

Cheered by Ellen’s good company, she traipsed back through the grasses, bowed now from her earlier footsteps as if ashamed. The sun had appeared when one of the dark storm clouds moved. Drops of water clung to the grass and glittered in the bright light. The yellow hues of the grasses were as varied as the variety in her eye
shadow kits: Dijon mustard, straw, autumn leaves, roasted marshmallow. She could see the farmhouse when her cell phone
buzzed with a text. It
was from Ben. “Drake posted bail. I’m free. For now anyway.
Missing you like crazy. And scared, Bella. Really scared.”

She stopped, typing quickly with her thumbs. “I’m scared too.
But Peter and I are onto something. I’ll be home around nine.
Filming until then.”

***

Bella and Cleo were with Genevieve in her trailer, playing Crazy Eights. As they set cards down, the two actresses ran lines for the scene they would film after dark. Bella kept one eye on the script, prompting them if they stumbled on a line.

“I have to be perfect, Bella,” said Gennie. “Not a missing or exchanged word.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Bella. “I’ve done this before.”

Gennie smiled. “Of course you have. It’s just I want to honor the writer by getting every one of her words correct.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard this from you before too.” Bella yawned,
feeling the effects of yesterday’s traveling and the constant worry about Ben.

“Learned this trick in drama school,” said Cleo after they’d run the scene through three times without missing a line. “Running lines while doing a meaningless task.”

 “Whoever says Crazy Eights is meaningless never had to
occupy a ten-year-old boy,” said Bella, thinking of the many games she’d played with Alder last summer.

“Sometimes I do it jumping rope,” said Genevieve.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” said Cleo. “I need to figure out how to lose a few pounds anyway.”

“Can we play poker now?” asked Bella.

“I hate playing poker with you,” said Genevieve. “You always
win.”

Bella grinned. “It’s because you have no poker face. I can read you like a book.”

“When was the last time you read a book?” said Genevieve.

“Cleo, I have to tell you what Peter said to Madam Zinn.” She relayed the story to the two women. “Your husband’s a cool cat, as
Alder would say. Although his whole health food thing is
annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” said Cleo.

Genevieve’s voice was soft, almost wistful. “They don’t make many men like Peter Ball.”

“Or Ben Fleck,” said Cleo to Bella.

 “Or Stefan Spencer,” said Gennie.

Had she just said that? Bella watched her friend’s face carefully.
Was there something between them or were they just friends?
“What’s going on between you two?”

Gennie smiled, her eyes glassy. “He’s the most generous actor
I’ve ever worked with.” She put her hand on Cleo’s forearm. “And
by actor, I mean male actor. Most of the women I work with are very
generous. Comes with being a woman, I think. We’re more apt to
give others the spotlight.”

 “I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here talking to Genevieve Banks about acting.” Cleo pinched her own arm. “Is this a dream?” She sobered, looking guilty. “Of course, I feel terrible about the way I arrived here.”

 “Tiffany made poor choices, again and again, and received
many
second chances,” Genevieve said, not unkindly or with judgment,
but with the sad tone of inevitability.

There was a light tap on the trailer door and then Peter entered. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, we’re running lines and waiting for them to call us,” said
Cleo.

Peter kissed his wife on the cheek and then turned to Bella. “I
have news. We were right about Hough. The front desk clerk remembered him. And he’s in the footage. Registered under John Miller. Paid
cash.
But it’s him. Which means he was in the lodge the night she was killed.”

Hope beat loud in Bella’s chest and spread to her limbs. This was the break they needed. He had to be the killer. And Hough’s brother had pinned it on Ben to cover it up. “What next?” she asked Peter.

“I’m going to the Echo Grove District Attorney with this. If he
has any integrity at all he’ll order a DNA test, and if it’s Rawley
Hough’s sperm, they’ll start an investigation. My prediction is both brothers will go down.”

“Have you told Ben yet?” Bella realized she was still holding her cards. She set them on the table.

“I talked to Annie. Drake and Ben are on their way home from Echo Grove. She said she’d tell them about it when they got there. I’m going to track down the local D.A. Apparently he eats at the Echo Grove Country Club every Tuesday night.”