“Harold hasn’t been able to get a name yet. The money was given anonymously, but Harold says to give him time, that there are ways to find these things out.”
“Tell Harold I owe him a Hollywood dinner.” Harold Erkwell had once been a suitor, but more importantly, he’d turned into a good friend—and president of the bank in Zinnia. He had financial contacts that had helped me and Tinkie solve cases more than once.
“That and a lot more. Sarah Booth, why don’t you give him some serious consideration once you get home to Zinnia? He adores you.”
A pain as violent as a knife wound stabbed into my heart. It was Millie’s honest assumption that I would return to Zinnia once the movie was finished. No matter what, she believed I would come home. Because Zinnia was where I belonged. And that’s where people lived, where their hearts were.
“Millie, I can’t promise—”
“I know. I’m not asking for promises. But I did pay a visit to Madame Tomeeka.”
My old high school friend, Tammy Odom, had a talent for peering into the future. The pictures she got weren’t always clear, but Tammy knew things. I wasn’t about to argue with Millie on this one, because I couldn’t say for certain what my heart wished for most of all—fame and Hollywood or home and security.
“And what about Graf?” I asked.
“He loves you, Sarah Booth. I don’t doubt that for an instant.”
“But what?” I didn’t want to hear this, but I couldn’t help myself. At this moment, Graf was upstairs with my partner and best friend, hunting for a ghost in a red dress that neither of them had seen. But I had seen her. So therefore they were searching. Could any woman ask more from a man?
“But Graf is a movie star.”
“And I’m not?”
“Oh, you certainly have the talent. No one doubts that. Sarah Booth, no one ever doubted that but you.”
“So why am I not a movie star?” I sounded a little huffy even to me.
“Because it isn’t talent that makes someone that thing. If you could balance and contort your body on a trapeze, that wouldn’t make you a circus performer.”
“Unless I ran away to join the circus.”
“Exactly!” Millie was triumphant.
“But I’m making a movie.”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“What did Madame Tomeeka say?” Millie had me worried. The movie was having difficulty, but the actual filming was incredible. I was my own worst critic, and I thought the dailies were superb.
“Tammy talks in riddles.”
She was hedging. “What did she say?”
“That your parents would guide you in the right decision.”
That took my breath away. Since their deaths in a car accident when I was twelve, I’d dreamed and fantasized about their reaction to the accomplishments and disappointments of my life. No matter how hard I’d imagined or prayed, I’d received no clear word from the Great Beyond regarding their wishes or opinions of my plans.
Jitty didn’t count, because she had her own agenda, normally involving viable male sperm and a screaming baby on my hip.
“Did she say my parents would tell me something?”
“Oh, Sarah Booth, that’s not what she said at all, and I sure didn’t mean to imply anything like that. I know how much you miss them.”
No point denying it. I did. “I’d give anything for ten minutes to talk with them.”
“Tammy said they were with you, protecting you.”
My heart was filled with sadness. “That’s a good thing to know. Thank her for me.” It didn’t answer a question, but it did give me hope that someone was somehow looking out for me.
“So what else did you find out about Federico?”
“The good stuff was back in the archives of some of the magazines. A place you might start is with Vince Day.”
“The French director who did all of those terrific post-apocalyptic films?”
“That’s him. He and Federico were like brothers at one time. Then there was a falling out—over Carlita. The gist of what I could find out was that Vince and Carlita had an affair, and there was talk that Estelle wasn’t Federico’s child.”
“Holy cow. That puts an entirely different spin on Estelle’s attitude toward Federico.”
“It sure does. And from what I could read between the lines, it seemed Carlita never really cared for Vince. She used him to taunt Federico with her infidelity. But the end result was that Vince’s wife left him. The whole thing with Carlita—whatever it was—destroyed his family.”
Hollywood could be a vicious town, where personal lives played out in public. “And yet Federico took Carlita back and raised Estelle as his own.” This was the total opposite of the gossip about Federico’s marital flings—but it could also explain Carlita’s self-hatred. What was the real story, though?
“That would seem to be the case. But that’s what you need to find out—the truth about Federico and Carlita’s past.”
Millie was smart. What got printed in a celebrity gossip magazine in the eighties and early nineties would be only the tip of the iceberg. In those days, there was some restraint by the media, some assumption that a celebrity had a right to a private life. And also the celebrities made an effort not to expose themselves and their emotions in front of cameras.
“Millie, thanks so much for digging this up.”
“My pleasure, Sarah Booth. It gave me a chance to look back on some of the best moments in film and my life. Back in the eighties, I was a pretty hot chick.”
“You’re still a pretty hot chick,” I said, “but one with a lot of wisdom.”
“When is Tinkie coming home? Oscar is here at the café for every meal, and I’ll bet his cholesterol is off the charts. The man doesn’t eat anything unless it’s fried.”
That didn’t sound good. “She’ll be home soon.”
“And you?”
“We still have a lot of filming to do, but as soon as I’m finished, I’ll be home to see my friends and my house and my horse.”
“You are a star, Sarah Booth. Your dream came true, and that’s something very special.”
“Good-bye, Millie. I love you.”
I hung up just as Graf and Tinkie clattered down the stairs.
“Find anything interesting?” I asked.
They shook their heads.
“And we couldn’t get into the locked rooms on the third floor. Shall I get a key from Federico?” Graf looked handsome and ready for action.
“I think it can wait,” Tinkie said. “I’d like to have a copy of the keys to those rooms so we can periodically check them, but let’s not disturb Federico and Jovan.”
“Something strange is going on in those rooms,” I agreed. “Keys would be good. We’ll talk to Federico tomorrow.”
I started to tell them what Millie told me, but it was nearly six o’clock. Filming would start soon, and neither Graf nor I had had much sleep.
“Let’s grab some shut-eye and come up with a plan in the morning when Tinkie gets back with the blueprints of the house,” Graf suggested. He put his arm around me. “We’ll find that ghost or woman or whoever she is, Sarah Booth, and once we do, we’ll find out what’s really going on around here.”
The next morning, we were all yawning for the confrontation, with Ned finally seeing the possibility of an awful truth—that he’d been played by the love of his life. But once the cameras were on and Federico yelled “action,” we came alive. Tinkie watched for a while before she took off for Petaluma and the architect.
When I wasn’t needed on-camera, I studied Graf and Jovan. Their performances were nuanced and strong. I had wondered if Jovan was a good actress or if Federico had thrown her a bone because she was his love interest. I should never have underestimated him. She was good. And she played well off Graf, who was nothing less than stunning. Watching him as the truth dawns, I could almost see his brain churning toward the reality of Matty and yet not wanting to believe it.
/> When Federico finally called “cut,” everyone applauded. I wasn’t needed in the next scenes, which were between Ned and the little-ole bomb maker played by Ashton Kutcher. I only wished Millie could be there. She was a huge fan of the young man.
I went up to my room, doing my best to avoid falling into the bed. I was tired, but there were things to be done. And the one person who could help me needed to put in an appearance.
I closed and locked my bedroom door. “Jitty!” I whispered, but it was a loud one. “Jitty! I need you.” While she might ignore my demands, she would never ignore a plea for help.
I walked around the room, waiting.
“Jitty, this is serious!” Hell, she didn’t have to fly over from Zinnia. She was a ghost. She could just materialize, so what was keeping her?
I saw a form on the balcony outside my window, and my heart skipped a beat. Someone was out there. I’d locked the windows and my door before Graf and I left the room. So who was it?
The figure crossed the window, a shapely silhouette in a long, dark gown. The elusive woman in red! I hurried to the French doors and yanked them open, determined to find out who was playing such a dangerous game.
Jitty, wearing a blond wig and a long, sleek black gown that hugged her bodacious curves, put one gloved hand on her hip. Her other hand held a long, slender cigarette holder and a glowing fag.
“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?” she asked, a perfect imitation of Mae West. She strutted past me into the room.
“Jitty!”
“You called, didn’t you?”
“I thought you were the ghost.” My heart was still pounding.
“I am. So what’s going on?”
“Can you tell if there’s another spirit in this house?”
She looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown a large, cabbage-shaped tumor on the side of my head. “Sarah Booth, I’m not a medium like James van Praagh or John Edward.”
“I didn’t ask you to communicate with the ghost. I just need to know if there’s one here in the house, or if the things that are happening are from a human source.”
Jitty puffed on her cigarette, making me want one. Being dead had some real advantages. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”
“And if you do, what will happen?” I couldn’t believe the red tape in the Great Beyond.
“Nothing good. I might get a permanent recall.”
I wasn’t willing to barter Jitty’s presence for a scrap of information that I could determine for myself. All I had to do was grab her—and if I caught her, she was flesh and blood. But so far, the lady in red had been fleet of foot. “Is there a test to determine if this is a spirit?”
“Check out a mirror. Ghosts don’t have a reflection.” She frowned. “Or is that a vampire? I get the rules confused sometimes. Now I’ve got business of my own.” She started to fade, an undulating shimmer of energy that grew dimmer. “Keep up the bedroom activity, Sarah Booth. Think what a child star you and Graf could produce.”
Her laughter was the last aspect of her to depart, a throaty chuckle that even while it irritated me, made me smile. For whatever reason, Jitty was unwilling to help me with this. That in itself had to be a clue.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tinkie had rented a purple car that looked like a cross between a Scion and a VW bug—it had the best air conditioner of any car in the fleet. She pulled up to the front of the mansion with her hair blowing in the chilled breeze. Chablis, too, was enjoying the air-conditioning. Her little ears were standing straight up.
Both of them jumped from the car, and Tinkie carried a roll of architectural plans almost taller than she was. Her dress-to-impress outfit she’d chosen to visit the architect included five-inch stiletto sandals, lime green, a linen minidress, backless, and a floral matador jacket. The outfit was completed with a straw hat. She looked like a million dollars.
“I not only got the plans, I got a bit of history on the Gonzalez family from Senor Lopez. Fascinating stuff.” She waved the plans at me.
“Let’s have a look at those,” Graf said. He was as eager as I was to put an end to the visits of the phantom woman. “I’ll bet there’re secret passages where someone is hiding.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s popping out and doing stuff, then hiding again. And when we find her and catch her, she’s going to face an assault charge against Jovan.”
“There are passages,” Tinkie said. She’d drawn her own conclusions and was having a hard time not spilling everything right then and there.
“Let’s go up to my room,” I said. “It’s more private and—” I broke off when Ricardo came around the corner of the house.
“Ladies, Graf.” He smiled, and I thought again what a handsome young man he was. What a perfect contrast to Estelle, who was beautiful but so angry that it distorted her lovely features.
“Dad needs you back on the set.” Ricardo spoke to Graf. “He needs a retake of a shot with you and Ashton.”
Graf hid his disappointment. “Certainly, Ricardo. I’ll be right there.” He looked at us. “You girls continue without me.”
“What’s that?” Ricardo pointed to the roll of drawings Tinkie held.
“Sarah Booth and Graf are building a home back in the States. I wanted to go over the plans with them, since I’ll be in charge until they return.” Tinkie was cool as a cucumber in chilled dill sauce.
“It must be a big house.” Something cold had drifted into Ricardo’s big brown eyes.
“They’re movie stars, Ricardo. Of course the house will be palatial. It’s expected. Part of the packaging. Maybe your father can explain it to you.” Tinkie’s voice had an edge to it.
Ricardo was either smart or lucky. “Be sure and include a gym with a Jacuzzi and lots of workout equipment. Being a star is difficult. One extra ounce of fat, one bad hair day . . .” He gave his signature one-shouldered shrug. “You guys can have it. I’ll take anonymity behind the camera and a big paycheck anyday.”
“Let’s see what your dad needs,” Graf said, stepping in front of Ricardo and leading him back to the set.
Tinkie and I stood in the shade of some lush tropical tree. The scent of roses wafted to us from the gardens. “There’s something about that kid that gives me the willies,” Tinkie said.
“Could be testosterone untempered by experience.”
“Could be sociopathic tendencies and a subverted hatred of his father.”
“Wow, Tink, I’m usually the one to say the harsh things.”
“This family is seriously screwed up, Sarah Booth. And I’m not just whistling ‘Dixie.’ I’ve got the proof right here.”
“My room?” I asked.
“Absolutely not.”
She was so adamant that I put a hand on her shoulder and got her to face me. “What’s wrong with my room?”
“It’s perfectly lovely, and whoever matched those sheers to the wallpaper and the bedspread did a perfect job, but—” She held up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “There’s a passageway behind the bathroom wall. It’s large enough for someone to stand in, and there are peepholes cut so that you can be watched. Behind one of the tapestries. I’ll show you later.”
A million thoughts collided in my head. Someone could have been watching Graf and me make love. That was creepy enough. But it went deeper than that. Someone was spying with the intention of hurting one or all of us.
The mental image of Norman Bates leaped into my mind. I turned to Tinkie.
“You’re white as a sheet,” she said, grasping my elbow and moving me into the shade of the porch. “Take a breath and let’s go up to my room. As far as I can tell, the guest rooms don’t figure into the secret passageways and hidey-holes that Estoban Gonzalez built into his daughter’s wedding gift.”
We entered the cool of the house and hurried upstairs to Tinkie’s room. Chablis and Sweetie trotted with us, flopping on the floor as we spread the house plans on her bed.
“See, here’s the space in your room,
” Tinkie pointed out.
Sure enough, there was enough space between the walls for a person to stand. Entry was gained from the hallway, a panel that slid to the side.
My initial shock gave way to anger. The idea that someone had been spying on me, in my most intimate moments, made me furious.
“Calm down,” Tinkie said. “You don’t know for certain anyone has used that hidden area.”
She was right. Just because Estelle had appeared in my room unannounced didn’t mean she was spying on me. The hidey-hole wasn’t an entrance to my room.
“But why would Estoban Gonzalez build a room to spy on his daughter and her new husband?” That was sick. So sick I didn’t even want to think about it.
“Is it possible he feared for Carlita?” Tinkie posed the question softly.
“As in he thought Federico would harm her?” That hadn’t occurred to me.
Tinkie kicked off her heels and flopped on her stomach, her feet crossed in the air behind her. I couldn’t help but notice her perfectly manicured toenails, a pretty pastel mango. Tinkie had color coordination down to a science.
“Either that, or perhaps he thought she might harm herself.” Tinkie arched one eyebrow. “With all of that anorexia, he might have been worried about depression or something. I mean, is it possible that Carlita suffered from her eating disorders before she married Federico?”
“So why not tell Federico and let him take care of his wife?”
“Federico had a career. I’m sure he wasn’t home all the time. Perhaps Estoban only wanted to make certain she wasn’t harming herself.”
Tinkie was putting the kindest possible spin on the situation. I settled on the bed, realizing for the first time how tired I was. It had been a long night and a hard morning. I needed a nap.
Tinkie shifted the documents until she had the kitchen in front of her. “Look! There’s a passageway from the pantry up a flight of stairs to the second floor!”
This was a big discovery and could easily explain how someone had frightened Jovan, broken a dish, and then escaped with all the doors and windows locked.
I studied the prints in earnest, following Tinkie’s pointer finger as she flipped to the page that showed the second floor. Right at the top of the stairs was another false panel. Someone could take the kitchen pantry passage up to the second floor and escape. Or they could wait in the passage until the house was empty enough for them to make a getaway.
Wishbones Page 13
