The mischief fled from her eyes. “You’re right. I don’t know the history. It’s just that you’ve been so down lately. Coleman isn’t making you happy, and I thought a harmless flirtation with Graf might perk you right up.”
The problem was that Graf was never harmless. He could charm the knickers off the Queen Mother, and there was always a price to pay for being the object of his attentions. “Not a good plan. Let’s get this production up and running so these people can vamoose.”
“Okay. No more meddling.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “If you promise to laugh a little more.”
“I promise.” Anything to keep her from trying to set me up with Graf.
Renata Trovaioli swept into the hallway. Her hair was a tangle of Medusa curls and her ice-blue eyes were offset with kohl that gave her an exotic aura. “That stalking bitch is hanging around the front door. I was promised there would be security to protect me. She’s going to kill me. She is! She’s got a poster and is marching back and forth calling me a heartless killer!”
I had no idea what Renata was talking about, but Tinkie stepped forward to handle it.
“I’ll call the sheriff.” Tinkie whipped out her cell phone and began the call, as Graf and Sir Alfred came down the hallway toward us.
Renata’s bosom heaved dramatically, and her hand fluttered as if she nearly fainted. “Someone, please! Help me!”
She slumped artfully into Graf’s arms. As he looked at me, he rolled his eyes. While Renata’s theatrics were annoying, they did give me a chance to slip out the door and depart.
As I stepped into the cold January dusk, I saw a petite woman with auburn hair and a huge sign. When she turned toward me, I could read the neatly lettered words.
“Renata doesn’t brake for pets!”
I walked over to the woman. “You probably have every right to despise Renata, but I should warn you they’re calling the cops.”
“My name is Kristine Rolofson, and I’ve been arrested at every venue Renata has played since she struck Giblet and left her lying in the street, bleeding and in pain.” Anger sparked in her eyes. “She’s going to pay, and I won’t stop until the laws are changed. She should’ve been prosecuted for leaving the scene of an accident.”
“If you want to live to picket another day, you should leave.” I pointed in the distance to the flashing blue lights. Coleman, Gordon, or Dewayne was on the way. Or, it could be all three of them. Even law officers weren’t immune to the intrigues of celebrity.
Kristine lowered her sign. “She really called the police.”
I nodded. “Renata is acting like you’re a security risk.”
Kristine laughed. “Right. I’m so deadly. She just doesn’t like the bad publicity that comes with me.”
I had an inspired idea. “Put your picket sign in my car, and I’ll take you straight to Cece Dee Falcon, the reviewer for the Zinnia Dispatch. She’s a close friend, and I’m sure she’d love to hear all about Giblet.” My grin was wicked.
“Great.” She tossed her sign into the backseat of my roadster, whistled up her dog, and both of them jumped in.
In less than a minute we were on the road to town and what I hoped would be a huge thorn in Renata Trovaioli’s side.
Chapter 2
By eight o’clock, I was in my pajamas and under a fleece throw in front of the fireplace. My lie to Tinkie gnawed at my conscience. I had no date with Coleman, and hadn’t seen him since New Year’s Eve, when he’d given me a chaste kiss on the cheek and ducked out the front door as the ball was dropping in New York City.
His behavior had been puzzling at first. Now it was frightening. Coleman was a man who took his vows seriously, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the gunshot—or Connie’s shenanigans—had done something permanent.
Though we’d never acted on our feelings for each other—with the exception of a few kisses—I was afraid that somehow he felt as if he’d dishonored his marriage vows to Connie. Forget that she was a psycho bitch who’d tried to kill me. Forget that she’d tricked Coleman into staying in the marriage by pretending to be pregnant. Forget that her entire life with Coleman had been a lie. Connie had never been capable of the type of love that Coleman had committed to. Now I had to wonder if he would ever really be free of her.
I sipped the Jack I’d poured over ice and lifted my latest book. I was way into the preternatural adventures of Sookie Stackhouse when a vigorous knock on the front door almost made me jump out of my skin.
Coleman! At last he’d come to spend some time with me. I did a fashion check to be sure the snowflake pajama bottoms matched my top and hurried to open the door.
The blast of winter wind was nothing compared to the chill that raced through me at the sight of Graf Milieu. I tried to close the door, but he was quicker. He wedged in a foot and then slipped inside.
“We have to talk, Sarah Booth.”
“No, we don’t have to talk.” There was nothing to say.
“I need your help.”
“People in hell need ice water.” It wasn’t original, but it expressed my desire to help him perfectly.
“Renata is driving me insane.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I’d heard that Graf had become romantically involved with Renata about two minutes after I left New York. Good. Whatever Renata was dishing out, he deserved it.
“Stop it.” He unwound his scarf, revealing his dimpled chin. “She’s impossible.”
“Perfect for you.” I’d been so damn possible that it hurt me to remember.
“She’s forgetting her lines. We’ve done this play a thousand times, and she can’t remember her cues.” Frustration rippled across his handsome face. The problem with Graf was that he was an actor. A superb actor. I never knew when he was telling the truth or when he was acting.
“That’s not a problem I can help you with, Graf.”
“But it is!”
Despite myself, I was intrigued. “How?”
“Would you be her understudy?”
The request was absurd. “You have some nerve. I left New York because you let me know that you didn’t have any faith in me as an actor. Now you come here and ask me to be Renata’s understudy. Are you insane?” The more I talked the angrier I became.
“It was never your acting ability I doubted, Sarah Booth. It was that you didn’t believe in yourself as an actor.”
“Get out.” I had enough emotional turmoil in my life without him dredging up a past that was more than painful.
“At least hear me out.” He brushed past me and walked into the parlor. “This is a great house. No wonder you came home.”
I prayed that Jitty would appear in full belle regalia and run him back into the dark winter night. No such luck. Jitty was not a ghost to be summoned. I watched helplessly as Graf went to the sideboard and poured himself a Scotch.
“Graf, I’m going to call the sheriff if you don’t leave.”
“I’m surprised that Mr. Peters isn’t here with you, all snuggly in those lovely flannel pajamas.”
“Victoria’s Secret isn’t my game anymore.” I drew myself up to my full height. “I don’t need subterfuge and artifice.”
His laughter rang in the big room. “Well done!”
The room was suddenly too hot as the blood rushed to the surface of my skin. “Graf, I want you to leave.”
Instead he took a seat in one of the wing chairs. “Not until you agree to be Renata’s understudy.”
I shook my head. “Positively not. I have a business to run. In case you haven’t heard, Delaney Detective Agency is a very successful enterprise and—”
“Your partner told me you were between cases.”
Damn Tinkie! I’d strangle her when I got my hands on her. “The phone could ring any minute with another case. I can’t afford to be tied up every night in some production.”
“Don’t you still dream of acting?”
He was Satan. “No. I don’t. You made it clear enough that I d
idn’t have the necessary talent.”
Jitty couldn’t move as fast as he did. He was in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, fingers warm through the flannel of my top. “It wasn’t talent you lacked, Sarah Booth. It was conviction. You never gave it a hundred percent. You always held something back, in case you failed. The rest of it you had in spades—talent, beauty, a presence on the stage. All I tried to do was shake you up enough to make you risk everything.”
“Stop it!” I shook free of him and went to the sideboard. I still had plenty of Jack left in my glass, but I went through the motions of freshening my drink. My mind was in a whirl. A year too late, Graf told me the things I’d needed to hear when I first went to New York. He was right. I’d always held a little back, just in case it didn’t work out. Just a little bit to save my heart from totally breaking.
“Sarah Booth, the year you’ve been away has only added to your beauty. You’ve gained that confidence. I see it in the way you walk, in the way you look directly into my eyes.”
Which was the one thing I didn’t want to do at all. In Graf’s eyes, I could see the past, and the glimmer of a future promise. I didn’t want either. “I have changed, Graf. Enough to know that I don’t want that life anymore. I’m a private investigator, and a dang good one. I make a difference in people’s lives. I’ve come home to my heritage and my friends. This is what I want.”
“A six-month gig in Hollywood could get you enough money to paint this old house and make a few necessary repairs.” His glance swung around the room. “If you had a hundred thousand dollars to put into it, this could be a showplace.”
“And if frogs had wings they wouldn’t bump their asses.” I walked to the door. “Please leave. I’m not interested. Besides, the last time I was Renata’s understudy she never even had the sniffles.”
He caught the whiff of my desire like a bloodhound on a scent. “It won’t be like that this time. Renata isn’t herself. I promise you. She can’t remember her lines. It’s getting obvious to everyone. I heard her talking with her brother about her forgetfulness. Even she knows it. Sarah Booth, Maggie the Cat is a part written for you. Tennessee Williams must have dreamed you when he wrote it.”
He was Satan, come to tempt me with a long-ago dream that I’d had sense enough to put behind me. The truth was, of all the plays in the world, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was the one I most adored. Maggie was a role both strong and weak, cunning and naïve. It was a test of an actress’s skills. My idol, Elizabeth Taylor, had done the role justice, and it was a mark that any actor worth her salt aspired to.
“I have a real job.” I pointed to the door. If I could just get him to leave, I’d be okay. I’d find some holy water and douse the house.
“What if I told you that Renata said you’d be even better at Maggie than her, but you’d never get the chance?”
“I’d say there’s a lot of truth in that statement, especially the part where I’ll never get the chance. She’d crawl out on that stage to keep me from getting there.”
“But you want to be there!” His grin was so bright I needed sunglasses.
“Go away. Please.”
“I’ll leave if you promise that you’ll be the understudy. Just learn the lines and watch a couple of rehearsals. That’s all.”
“How did you get here?” My brain had suddenly begun to function. I walked to the door and looked out. Tinkie’s Cadillac idled in the driveway. “I’m going to kill her.”
“I was calling a cab. She simply gave me a ride. Everyone in town knows where you live, Sarah Booth. I would have found it on my own.”
The window of the Cadillac glided down. Tinkie waved. “You’d be the best Maggie ever, Sarah Booth.”
Before I could frame an indignant reply, her window closed.
“Do I have your word?” he asked.
A year ago I would have given my toes for a chance to play Maggie opposite Graf’s Brick. Now it sounded like trouble. I’d grown wiser, but had I grown stronger, more able to risk? I’d never know if I didn’t step onto that stage. “Okay.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I can’t wait.” He opened the door and left, his footsteps on the porch reminding me that the past could be left behind, unless it walked right back in the front door.
Keith Watley, the director, stood in the costume dock with his hands on his hips. “Big Mama, you’re just not big enough! Bobbe! Bobbe, find the wardrobe girl and put more padding under that muumuu. I hire a hefty actress and she goes on Atkin’s Diet. What am I to do?” He looked around the auditorium for someone to blame.
I sat in the back of the theatre and watched. Renata looked fabulous and fit as a fiddle. I’d wasted three very precious days waiting for the leading lady to fall sick. Unless I slipped a little salmonella into her salad, she wasn’t going to miss a single performance.
“It’s going to be wonderful!” Tinkie sat on the edge of the seat beside me. “I just wish the dragon lady would get a tiny bit sick. Just enough to give you a chance. I heard Renata and Graf arguing backstage. It’s a good thing this isn’t a love story or they’d never be able to pull it off. They hate each other.”
Tinkie was happy as a clam with the inside gossip. “Two big egos do not a happy romance make.” I slumped farther in my seat. I’d let my dreams rise up, and they were going to bite me on the butt. Jitty was right. I was still living in the past. My acting days were over, and I was foolish to spend my valuable time waiting for someone else to get sick. I pushed myself up. “I’m going home.”
Tinkie tilted her head and glanced up at me. “What’s going on with Coleman?”
“I wish I knew.” I was tired of trying to make excuses for the fact that the man I’d given my heart to had abandoned me.
“I saw him in town this morning, and he doesn’t look good.” Tinkie rose and followed me from the auditorium as Keith sent us a death glare.
“You’re breaking the focus of my actors!” he yelled at our backs as we made an escape.
“It’s for the best,” I told Tinkie. “If he yelled at me like that onstage, I might clobber him.”
“He’s a bit high-strung, but nothing you can’t handle.”
“What I could handle right now is a good case. I see nothing on the horizon for us.” I was down in the dumps. The new year had started off with a big, wet fizzle. My love was absentee, my business was nonexistent, and my bills were mounting by the minute.
“The play opens Friday night. That’s tomorrow. It’s a seven-day run. After that I’ll be ready for a case, but I hope nothing happens before then. I’ve got my hands full with these people.”
I couldn’t help but smile. Tinkie had Oscar and her father for financial backup. I was the Lone Ranger. If I didn’t get a case soon, I’d be at the Burger Shack flipping patties. “I guess another week won’t sink me.”
“What are you wearing tomorrow night? I found this incredible off-the-shoulder black dress.” She rolled her eyes. “You can’t wear jeans, so what are you going to wear?”
“I’ll think of something.” The truth was, I hadn’t given opening night a single thought. If I wasn’t on the stage, what difference did it make what I wore? I didn’t have a date.
“Is Coleman coming with you?” Tinkie honed in on my bruise.
The doors to the auditorium burst open and Renata strode up to me. “I won’t go on tomorrow night unless I have my lipstick!”
Bobbe Renshaw, the makeup artist, was right on her heels. “This shade is perfect with your coloring.” She brandished a tube of red lipstick.
“I want my Almond Mocha Retreat.” Renata glared at her and then turned to Tinkie. “Get my lipstick or the show is over.”
“Certainly, Ms. Trovaioli.” Tinkie spoke as if Renata were a two-year-old. “What lipstick would that be?”
“It’s a special brand made just for me at a shop in Memphis. Someone will have to run up there and pick it up.”
I edged toward the door. I saw “gofer” written all over this
, and I had no desire to be Renata’s step-and-fetch-it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Bobbe said firmly. “I don’t have a driver’s license.”
Tinkie turned to me. “I’m meeting with the caterers this afternoon. I can’t go.”
“Sorry, I have an appointment with Reveler.” It was a perfect afternoon for a ride, and my horse was one thing that would pull me out of my blues.
“If I don’t get my lipstick, I’m going home.” Renata aimed the threat at the only one who would care—Tinkie.
She turned pleading blue eyes to me. Tears glistened in them, and I thought about all the work she’d done to make this happen.
“We’ll find someone and pay them to go,” I said.
“Fine,” Renata said, her nose in the air. “If that lipstick isn’t here, and it isn’t the proper shade, the curtain won’t rise. That would please you to no end, wouldn’t it, Sarah Booth? You’ve always been jealous of me.” Renata’s pale eyes were ice daggers.
“It’s difficult to be jealous of someone whose career depends on a tube of lipstick.”
“You stole the tube I had, didn’t you?” She snatched at my purse.
“That’s ridiculous.” Tinkie stepped in. “Sarah Booth hasn’t been near your dressing room, and besides, she wouldn’t take your lipstick.”
For all of Tinkie’s stalwart defense of me, she was misinformed. I had been in Renata’s dressing room to deliver the fresh roses Tinkie had ordered. It was a daily standing order—two dozen red beauties—until the play closed. Since I’d been doing errands for Tinkie, I’d been the one to take the bouquet into the dressing room. Now, though, wasn’t the time or place to correct Tinkie, even though Bobbe Renshaw cut me a knowing glance.
“Defend Sarah Booth all you want,” Renata said. “When the play fails to open, she’ll be to blame.”
I’d had enough. Memphis was a couple hours away, and it would be worth going just to get away from Renata’s ceaseless harping. “I’ll go get your lipstick, just to shut you up.”
Tinkie’s smile was worth whatever it was going to cost me. I was doing this for her, not Renata.
Ham Bones Page 2
