“Posh!” Sally said. “Don’t start that crap, Dallas.”
“I didn’t start it. Kyle, the cinematographer, told me this morning that someone had tampered with the cameras last night. He fixed them before shooting this morning. He said there was talk of seeing a ghost in the house.”
They both looked at me. “Whose ghost?” I asked, playing it innocent.
“Most likely Carlita’s ghost. There’s talk that she didn’t commit suicide.” Dallas leaned forward. “I’ve heard rumors that she was murdered. That’s why she haunts this place. She can’t rest until the person who killed her pays.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dusk had swallowed us in a warm mango glow by the time we finished filming for the day. While the end result of our labors might look glamorous, I was learning that shooting a movie was grueling work.
Anticipation of the arrival of Tinkie, Cece, and Millie had me to the point that I couldn’t rest, though my body warned that I needed some shut-eye.
“Sarah Booth, why don’t you try to relax?” Graf asked. “I’ll make you something cool and delicious and you can rest until your friends get here. I’ll even go to the airport and retrieve them.”
I wondered where Graf kept his suit with the cape and the big “S” on the chest. “Will you really fetch them for me?”
“My pleasure. I owe them a lot. They helped me when I was in Zinnia.”
If I had matured in the months that Graf and I were apart, he’d had a major growth spurt. This wasn’t the same man I’d shared my bed with in New York. This was a conscious man, one who could put my needs ahead of his own.
“I’ll make this up to you.”
He shook his head. “This is nothing, Sarah Booth. I don’t understand why I never got this until now. Maybe I’ve never truly loved anyone before. Now it’s all so clear and simple. I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “I’m not sure I deserve this.”
“It isn’t up to you to decide. This is my choice.” He kissed my forehead. “Now take a hot shower and crawl in bed. I’ll make you a Fuzzy Navel, lots of fresh orange juice and vitamins and a dollop of vodka to ease the tension. Then I’ll dash to the airport. I should be back by dinnertime. We can all go out.”
I started to make a smart-ass remark, but instead I kissed him. A good, solid smack that took his breath away. And then I left him standing at the front door while I went upstairs to follow his prescription for rest.
Federico had generously made two rooms available for my buddies, and I checked to be sure they were ready before I stepped under the stinging spray of a hot shower. The water was marvelous, pounding on my shoulders and melting away the tightness. I was wrapped in plush towels and sitting at the dressing table when Graf brought the drink. He’d squeezed the oranges himself.
“Drink this and I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” he said.
“Yassa, boss man.”
“If you want to play roles, I can think of more interesting ones,” he whispered in my ear.
He left while the pink still tinted my cheeks.
I sipped the drink and wandered around the room, examining the portrait of Carlita Marquez. She’d been incredibly beautiful, if a bit too thin. The version of her death I’d heard was overdose of prescription medication—ruled accidental due to Federico’s influence, no doubt.
It would be interesting to talk to Millie about this. She was like a research database when it came to movie stars and celebrities. She knew things that no one else could possibly remember.
Though I stretched out on the bed, I couldn’t rest. I was anxious. The day had been hard, but the good news was that, despite the lost hours from Joey’s accident Federico had shot more usable footage than he’d anticipated. Minimal retakes meant we were ahead of schedule, and he was thrilled at the way things were going.
After twenty minutes of twisting and turning, I gave up trying to rest, slipped into my favorite black jeans and some walking shoes, and decided to explore the Pacific beach.
The sun had set, but the sky was still warm with light as I made my way along the half mile down to the shore. Venus had risen in the western sky, and soon the moon would lift out of the Pacific. Waves crashed against the shore, and I noticed a huge outcropping of rock that created a magnificent display of foam and spray as the waves crashed over it.
I removed my shoes and walked along the warm sand playing tag with the surf like a child. This was exactly what I needed. The tight knot of muscles let go as I inhaled the salt breeze and remembered the joy of being young and unencumbered.
By the time I turned back to the mansion, I was renewed and eager to see my friends. I was also ravenous. I hurried, wanting to slip into something cooler than jeans before Graf arrived with Tink and the crew.
The path that led to the mansion approached from the west, the side of the house where my room was located. I could see my balcony as I climbed the winding path that clung to the incline in a series of wooden steps and steep dirt.
From this view, the house was lovely. Many of the rooms were illuminated, and it looked like a palace waiting for a party. The wind chimes showered the night with music.
As I approached, I froze. Someone was standing on my balcony.
I eased closer, moving through the palm fronds and the small trees that contained heavenly night blossoms. When I had a clear view, I stopped. A slender, dark-haired woman gazed out toward the water. Something about her made me think that she had done this many times.
Night had fallen, and though the moon was full, I couldn’t see clearly. Her features were indistinct. It could easily be Estelle. She was the same size and build, with the same flowing black hair. But I couldn’t be certain.
I’d locked my door when I left, but that meant nothing in a house where the daughter would surely have keys to all the rooms.
“Hey!” I called out. “Hey, you!”
Either the figure didn’t hear me or she ignored me. She continued to gaze out toward the ocean, as if she waited for some signal.
“Hey!” I yelled louder and jumped up and down, waving my arms. “What are you doing in my room?”
I was about to run the rest of the way to the house when I felt a firm grip on my arm. I turned to see one of the burly security guards eyeing me with suspicion.
“That woman is standing on the balcony outside my room.” I pointed to the second floor, and we both looked.
The balcony was empty.
“Shall I help you into the house?” the guard asked in perfect English with a Spanish accent. I recognized him from the night before. He was the same man who’d been outside the front door when I’d seen the woman leave. He’d also claimed that the door hadn’t opened.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Daniel Martinez,” he said. “The owner of Promise Security Agency, at your service.” He almost gave a bow.
“Did you see that woman on the balcony?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t see anyone, but it’s dark. Let me check your room.”
“Okay.”
We walked into the house together. When we came to my room, the door was locked. I opened it with my key. Daniel did a quick walk-through of the room and adjoining bath and found nothing.
“The light here can play tricks,” he said. His smile revealed strong white teeth and his dark eyes danced. “The locals say this house is haunted, though. Perhaps you saw the ghost.”
“The ghost of whom?”
He gave a one-shoulder shrug. “The owner, the mistress, the murdered maid. Aren’t the stories all the same? A ghost must be unhappy to remain behind to haunt a place.” His smile widened. “And it’s almost always a woman, yes? Something to think about.”
Great, a security guard with a misogynistic comedy routine. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Martinez.”
“Call me Daniel. I hear you’re going to be a huge star when you return to the States. Perhaps I can get your autograp
h later.”
I must have looked like a gaffed fish because he laughed. “No one has ever asked for my autograph,” I confessed.
“Maybe if you leave one for the ghost, she’ll go away happy.”
“Clever.”
“Call me if you need anything, Ms. Delaney. I’m at your service.”
When he left I locked the door and searched the room myself. There was no evidence that anything had been tampered with. Then again, ghosts didn’t normally move papers. If the ghost of Carlita Marquez was haunting the mansion, what did she want and why was she trying to get it from me?
“Well, this place puts the Delta to shame!”
Tinkie’s lilting Southern drawl echoed in the huge foyer of the mansion, and I ran down the stairs to smother her in a hug. Right behind her were Millie and Cece, both wearing hats and huge sunglasses even though it was dark outside.
“Sarah Booth, dahling,” Cece said, inching her sunglasses down her aristocratic nose. “You look underfed and over-fucked. How do I get that job description?”
She gave me air kisses on each cheek before yielding to Millie, who gave me a big warm hug.
“The paparazzi took our photographs! They were like vultures fighting over a dead possum in the highway. It was wonderful!” Millie stepped back from me and began to ooh and ahh over the house. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“She’s afraid the café will close while she’s gone,” Tinkie said, a laugh in her voice.
“Don’t worry about that! Everyone in town will show up and eat for days trying to pry gossip out of you,” Cece told Millie. “In fact, you should set a twenty-dollar minimum. Not one shred of gossip about Sarah Booth unless the tab is at least twenty bucks.”
“Where’s Graf?” They were embarrassing me, and I wanted to change the subject.
“I think he’s getting the luggage. We also brought Jovan with us from the airport.” Cece gave a little moue. “Beautiful but not a great conversationalist.”
“I couldn’t stop staring at her,” Millie said. “She’s so gorgeous. They call her the Ice Princess in the tabloids. They say she’s such a hot model because it’s that contrast of Nordic cool and the hot Latino men they use with her in the ads.”
“Graf has a surprise for you, Sarah Booth.” Tinkie could barely suppress her glee.
“What kind of surprise?” I asked. Tragedy tapping at my door had made me suspicious of surprises.
“The kind you’ll like.” Cece put her arm around my shoulders. “Give us the tour. Millie especially wants to see the balcony where the prop guy almost fell to his death.”
Millie pulled a shining digital camera from her purse. “I brought my camera. I intend to document this entire trip. You would think Cece would do this. She is, supposedly, the journalist.” She started snapping photographs. “Is the young man who fell doing better?” she asked.
“Joey is fine. His injuries aren’t serious. In fact, he’s back on the set already.” And he was. He couldn’t do much, but he was doing what he could. I led the way upstairs, unlocking my door to a curious look from Tinkie.
“Long story,” I whispered under my breath.
While Cece and Millie toured the room, both stopping in front of the striking portrait of Carlita Marquez, Tinkie went straight to the balcony. Even in the dark she suspected the balustrade had deliberately been weakened.
“Were you the target?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. There’re some strange things happening in this house.”
“Strange as in fatal?”
“Strange as in . . . supernatural.” If I’d ever thought of telling Tinkie about Jitty, I knew better now. Her face showed clear doubt and a good measure of worry.
“Are you saying a ghost tampered with the balcony?”
“No.” What was I saying? “Ghosts can’t—” I broke off. Far be it for me to explain the rules and regulations of the Great Beyond. “Someone did that but it’s possible it wasn’t directed at me. It could have happened long before the filming started.”
“Or not.” Tinkie stared into my eyes, searching for some answer. “Suzy Dutton died in the ravine by the house you were living in. She was pushed off a cliff.”
“Did the coroner rule homicide?” Being so far away from California and without access to a computer, I hadn’t thought to check on the news stories about Suzy.
“The coroner’s report hasn’t been released, but law enforcement officials have been all over that canyon, and they hauled Bobby Joe Taylor in for questioning. They wouldn’t do that if they felt Dutton’s death was accidental.”
“How do you know all this?” Foolish question.
“Millie keeps up with things. And it’s a good thing, too. I’d never have known about the prop man falling if it wasn’t for her.”
“Things are going fine here. Federico is pleased with the work. We’re ahead of schedule.” I shrugged.
“The tabloids are saying the movie is cursed. They’re hinting about some dark secret in Federico’s past.”
“Like?”
“Like murder.”
I started to walk away and Tinkie grasped my arm. I winced, and she led me back into the bedroom and the light. “What the hell happened to your arm?” She looked toward the door. “Did Graf do that?”
“No. It was . . .” I was finding it hard to tell Tinkie all the things that had happened, because while I was determined not to add them up to get the score, she would do so instantly.
“It was what?” Cece said, coming over to join Tinkie. Millie was right on her heels. Angry expressions touched their faces when they saw the bruises on my arm.
“Federico’s daughter. She’s upset that we’re using the house for filming. She says her dead mother wouldn’t approve. She wants us gone, and she’s a little hysterical.”
“And so she grabbed your arm that hard? What did Federico say?” Millie asked.
I fudged a bit. “He had Estelle removed from the property.” I almost left it there, but in fairness, I couldn’t. “But she keeps sneaking back into the house. She must have her own keys.”
“When her mother died, Estelle was sent to a spa for several months.” Millie looked from one to the other. “Spa being a nice word for rehab. I remember the picture of her. She looked like warmed-over death. She was very close with Carlita, and there was talk that her mind had snapped.”
“She’s a little unbalanced,” I said. “There’s such anger between her and Federico. What I don’t understand is why she’s taking it out on me. I would have thought that she’d be dogging Jovan, her father’s girlfriend.”
“Jovan isn’t the star of the movie,” Tinkie said quietly. “You are, Sarah Booth.”
“That’s not the worst of it.” I was on the verge of telling them about the ghost when I heard the distinctive sound of toenails on the floor. Sweetie Pie, followed by Chablis, burst into the room. Both dogs circled us and then jumped into the middle of the bed.
“You brought Chablis!” I was delighted to see the moppet.
“Heaven forbid that I should leave her. And I heard Sweetie Pie was going to be in the movie. I thought maybe Chablis might find a cameo role.” Tinkie was grinning from ear to ear. “But you really need to step outside on the balcony.”
“Right now?” I couldn’t imagine why. We’d already been out there.
“Please,” Tinkie said.
“Humor her,” Cece instructed.
“Yeah,” Millie chimed in.
Mystified, I followed Tinkie onto the balcony. When I looked down at the grounds, I saw Graf standing on the lawn lit by the set lights. He held the lead rope of a horse in each hand, a beautiful palomino and a lovely red roan.
“He borrowed them so you and he could ride together,” Tinkie said. “He’s very much in love with you, Sarah Booth.”
I didn’t know what to say. They were beautiful animals, and the idea that Graf had arranged all of this for my pleasure was almost more than I could absorb.
&n
bsp; “Federico said they could stay in the old stables while you guys are working here.” Cece put her hand on my shoulder. “I know it isn’t Reveler and Miss Scrapiron, but I thought it was pretty dang sweet of him. For a person ruled by vanity and testosterone, he’s a good guy.”
I blew a kiss down to him, blinking back the tears that threatened. “So this was the surprise,” I said.
“A good one, huh?” Tinkie asked.
“Yeah, one of the best ever.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dinner was a happy time of margaritas and wonderful food, cool breezes and the simple joy of being in the company of my friends, and that included Graf. I’d never considered him a compadre in the past. He was my lover, my man, my passion. But his recent actions had moved him into the column of good friend, and my heart was opening to him. I had only to think of the sweet little roan, Flicker, and the palomino, Nugget, to know Graf was special.
We all walked home, laughing and talking and teasing. When we got to the mansion, Sweetie and Chablis came rushing out of Federico’s quarters. I thought it was a little strange, especially since Jovan had arrived, and she didn’t look like the kind of gal who appreciated dog hair on her size 00 black miniskirt.
When we got closer to the door, I heard sobbing.
“What in the world?” Millie said. She had the most maternal instinct of all of us, and I could see the worry in her eyes.
“There’s a lot of emotion on a movie set,” I told her, leading them up the stairs. “Nothing to worry about.” But I was worried. Why had Sweetie and Chablis been in Federico’s suite? I was almost afraid to find out.
Once the girls were settled, I gave Graf the kiss he deserved. “I need to talk to Federico,” I said. “Would you entertain my friends?”
“Certainly. We’ll wait up for you.”
I hurried down the stairs to Federico’s room and tapped lightly on the door. When it opened, I was shocked at his face. He’d aged ten years. “Are you okay?”
He stepped into the hallway and closed the door. “I’m only exhausted. Jovan is resting now. She isn’t seriously injured, but she was badly frightened. The doctor examined her and gave her a sedative so she will sleep soundly now.”
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