Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery

by Deborah Sharp

  “Well, something is a tool,’’ I said.

  My sister raised her eyebrows.

  “Go ahead and tell her, Mama,’’ I said.

  “Which of these do you think sounds better, Maddie?’’

  Mama gave her line reading again—twice—and then filled both of us in on how the movie’s director decided her star quality was simply too luminous to hide in the background of a scene.

  “Does Sal know about this?’’ Maddie asked.

  “Sal is my husband, girls. He’s not my master. Besides, if he really loves me, he’ll want me to do what I love. I just know he’s going to be so proud of me!’’

  I heard a crack of thunder. A storm was headed our way.

  Paul Watkins held his lips inches from Mama’s. He stroked her arm suggestively, and then whispered into her ear. Suddenly, she hauled back to slap him across the face.

  “I know what you did to my daughter!’’

  Beside me, Marty flinched and let out a small gasp. Maddie and I just chuckled. Paul grabbed Mama’s wrist to stop the slap seconds before it connected. Then the two of them turned away from the dancehall, a replica in every detail, except it had no walls. The director and the newest star in the Hollywood firmament were all smiles.

  “Don’t worry. She’s just acting,’’ Paul said to Marty. “Your mother barely needs me to rehearse her. She’s a natural.’’

  “Well, she’s a natural something all right,’’ Maddie muttered.

  “I heard that!’’ Mama frowned at my sister. “You are not going to spoil my big moment with your negativity.’’

  Lightning and thunder had postponed any outdoor scenes involving the horses. When the first drops fell, Mama had left Maddie and me at the corral without a second thought. “Girls, I can’t stand out here in the rain,’’ she said. “Suppose I’m needed on the set? My hair and face would be a wreck.’’

  She’d tented a nylon tarp over her platinum locks and made a dash for it. “Meet you at the dancehall!’’

  “Humph.’’ Maddie donned the rain poncho she’d brought. “That’s a new excuse.’’

  “Mama will never run out of reasons to get out of work,’’ I said.

  While Maddie and I finished with the horses, Marty called to say she was on her way back to the movie set. We had told her where to meet us, but had revealed nothing else.

  Now, Mama turned her attention, and a 100-watt smile, back to Paul. “So, what would you say Ruby’s motivation is? What kind of life has she had? I want to know everything about her.’’

  Her hand rested on Paul’s arm. Her eyelashes fluttered like butterflies circling an overripe piece of fruit.

  “Well,’’ the director leaned back and stroked his chin, “Ruby has always been a beautiful woman.’’

  “Uh-huh, uh-huh, I can relate to that.’’ As Mama nodded like a bobble-headed doll, we rolled our eyes.

  “She’s always been able to get exactly what she wants from men.’’

  “Goes without saying.’’

  “But she’s had some tough breaks,’’ Paul said. “Some difficult times.’’

  “Been there, done that, too.’’

  “So she becomes a prostitute out of desperation.’’

  “A Protestant?’’ Mama cupped a hand to her ear.

  “A prostitute,’’ Paul repeated.

  Mama’s mouth dropped open. Maddie gulped. Marty giggled.

  “Didn’t you tell me Ruby was a dancehall gal?’’ Mama’s question came out in a squeak.

  “A euphemism,’’ Paul said. “That’s what Ruby tells her mother in letters home to Georgia.’’

  A parade of emotions marched across Mama’s face: Disgust. Ambition. Indecision.

  “I don’t suppose she can get saved, can she, Paul? Have her come to our lord Jesus?”

  He shook his head, ponytail bouncing against his back. “No time. There’s just the one scene, Rosalee. But it’s an important one.’’

  Mama chewed at her lip.

  “It’s crucial, in fact.’’

  She tapped her cheek, considering. “Well … if it’s crucial. Essential to the story?’’

  “Absolutely.’’

  Mama squared her shoulders and smoothed her hair. I knew she’d made up her mind.

  “Now, what does my costume look like?” she asked. “I have some ideas for the kind of dress Ruby might wear.’’

  As the two of them put their heads together, Paul took Mama’s arm and walked her through the empty set. In one dim corner a player piano sat on wheels. Barbara Sydney stood to one side of the piano. Her eyes shot daggers at the departing director and his newly minted actress.

  _____

  A sharp elbow jabbed me in my left side. From the right, a hand darted across the table to pinch me on my hand.

  “I see him,’’ I hissed at my sisters from behind the rim of a coffee cup. “There’s no need to leave me battered and bruised.’’

  I watched Carlos from the lunch table where I sat with my sisters. He stood at the entryway to the catering tent, checking out the hungry crowd inside. The downpour had momentarily quit; he carried his raincoat over his arm.

  “I’ll bet he’s looking for you, Mace,’’ Marty said.

  “Doubt it.’’ Maddie shook her head. “He’s not carrying the weapon he’d need to beat some sense into her.’’

  “Oh, that’s nice, poking fun at domestic abuse,’’ I said.

  “I’m simply using exaggeration for effect. Though if someone would hand me a switch off a tree, I’d give you a few cracks across the rear myself. When are you going to grow up, Mace?”

  “Maddie’s right.’’

  “About beating me with a switch? I never thought you’d condone violence, Marty.’’

  “Stop joking around,’’ Marty said. “It wouldn’t kill you to go offer to get him a cup of coffee or a soda.’’

  “What is this, 1950? I shouldn’t have to stroke his fragile male ego all the time. I love the man. He knows that.’’

  Maddie folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, does he now? Have you told him?’’

  I avoided her stern look. “Not exactly.’’

  “What’s that mean?’’

  “Yeah,’’ Marty ganged up on me, too. “Explain.’’

  “Well, one time Carlos said, ‘I love you,’ and I said, ‘Right back at ya.’”

  Maddie choked, sputtering out the soda she’d just sipped. Marty, across the table, shook her head. “Get up and go over there, you simple fool.’’

  When Maddie, beside me, added a hard poke in the rib to Marty’s scolding, I knew I better take their advice.

  Carlos looked relieved when he spotted me weaving through a maze of tables toward him. That was a good sign. But then his expression turned guarded, which wasn’t as encouraging. By the time I reached him, he was wearing his closed-off, detective’s face. I plowed ahead anyway.

  “Hey sailor, can a girl buy you a drink?’’

  I saw the tiniest crack in that granite jaw. Could it be the embryo of a smile?

  “I’m on duty, ma’am. But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee.’’

  “Coming right up,’’ I said. “Sorry they’re not serving café Cubano.’’

  “Anything with caffeine will do.’’ He reached out a hand to my chin, then gently turned my face this way and that. “You don’t look too bad.’’

  “Flatterer.’’

  “No, seriously. I’ve been worried. How are you, Mace?’’

  I didn’t want to mention how my body ached where Jeb had sacked me.

  “I’m fine. Did you find out how that light blew up?’’

  “Nobody knows anything,’’ he shrugged. “The lighting guy says it happens sometimes. He says there’s always somebody watching the equipment. He doesn’t believe it was tampered with.’’

  I told Carlos how Barbara had tried to cast suspicion about sabotage onto Tilton, and how he then did the same concerning her possible dark motives. Carlos slid h
is little book from his top pocket and made a couple of quick notes. When he put it away again, an awkward moment passed in silence.

  “Listen …” I began.

  “Mace, I …” Carlos said at the same time.

  He motioned for me to speak first.

  “I just wanted to tell you there really is nothing between Jeb Ennis and me. That was high school, Carlos—a long time ago.’’

  He put up a hand to stop me. “I wanted to apologize for acting like such an idiot. I went a little crazy when I saw you lying there on the ground.’’

  The worried look on his face gave me a warm feeling. I offered him my hand to shake. “Friends again?’’

  He took it, pulled me close, and brushed my hair with his lips. “Much more than friends, niña.’’

  His breath was hot against my ear. An electric charge spread from my ear past my heart and all the way down south.

  “Much more than friends,’’ I agreed.

  I got a coffee for Carlos while he picked out his lunch. As we returned to where my sisters sat, each of them signaled me silently, hiding their thumbs-up below the tabletop. No doubt, they’d done a play-by-play of Carlos and me making up. I was sure to get the highlights later, complete with their game analysis. We sat, Carlos draping his raincoat over the back of a chair.

  “Any leads on the murder?’’ Maddie asked, just as he took his first bite of eggplant parmigiana.

  “Let the poor man eat in peace,’’ Marty said.

  He swallowed. “You know I can’t talk about the investigation, Maddie. We’re still collecting and analyzing evidence.’’

  “How are you keeping the press at bay?’’ Marty asked. “I thought the paparazzi would be swarming the set like ants at a picnic by now.’’

  “Well, this ranch is private property, and the production company is paying dearly for the right to use it. They’ve beefed up security to keep out looky-loos and the media. Those security guys aren’t afraid to rough somebody up to get their point across.’’

  As he ate, my sisters fired questions that he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer. From who had the best motive for murdering Norman, to whether the light could have been sabotaged, he offered a series of shrugs, head shakes, and can’t-says. Finally, he pushed back his empty plate.

  “I hear that dessert table calling my name.’’

  “Bring me a little serving of that eggplant, would you, Carlos?’’ Maddie called after him.

  Marty and I exchanged a look.

  “What?’’

  “Didn’t you already have the barbecued ribs?’’ I asked Maddie.

  “So?’’

  Carlos had barely left the table when I felt Marty pinch my hand again. “Uh-oh.’’ She nodded toward the entrance.

  The rain had started again. Jeb Ennis shook the wet off his cowboy hat, brushed it against his thigh, and peered around the dimly lit tent. As soon as he spotted me, he waved and hurried over.

  “The seat’s taken,’’ Maddie said to him.

  “I won’t stay long.’’ He sat beside me, in the seat Carlos had just vacated. “I just came by to check on you, Mace.’’

  I glanced over my shoulder. Carlos had his back to us, caught up in a bottleneck at the serving line for lunch. He was probably waiting to get Maddie’s second helping. For once, I was grateful for her hearty appetite.

  “I’m-just-great-Jeb-thanks-again.’’ The words tumbled out of my mouth, as if they too wanted to speed him on his way. “Didn’t you say you needed to get back to the ranch? Lots-to-do-back-home-right?’’

  “Yeah, but I’m dying for a cup of coffee.’’ He looked around the tent again. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Kelly Conover eating lunch, have you?’’

  As Jeb’s eyes roamed the crowd, I searched out Carlos’s location. He’d left the lunch line, and was perusing the pastries.

  Maddie said, “I just saw Kelly at the production trailer, Jeb. Why don’t you head over and see if she’s still there?’’

  “Was she still outfitted in that skimpy bikini top and short-shorts? I didn’t think it was that warm out,’’ Marty added.

  I thought the picture my sisters conjured of Kelly Conover wearing Daisy Maes would propel Jeb from Carlos’s seat, but he stayed put.

  “Now that is something I’d like to see, but first I need my coffee. I also want to make sure my special gal is okay.’’

  Maddie groaned. Marty looked nervously across the tent in Carlos’s direction. Sure enough, he was threading his way through the tables on his way back to us. He balanced Maddie’s plate in one hand, and his dessert and a fresh cup of coffee in the other. As I caught his eye, he grinned … until he noticed who was sitting next to me. Jeb had just draped a protective arm around my shoulder.

  Carlos spun and detoured, hurrying away from us. At the door, he tossed the plate with Maddie’s eggplant as well as his dessert into a large garbage can. Now, the storm was pounding a drumbeat on the roof of the tent. I thought for a moment he’d stop by our table to get his coat.

  But he never even glanced back as he walked outside into a driving rain.

  A tiny forkful of lemon meringue pie stalled on its way to Marty’s mouth. She stared over my shoulder. Maddie kicked me under the table. I leaned over to rub my shin.

  “Is it Carlos? Did he come back?’’

  Speechless for once, Maddie shook her head. Marty’s blue eyes were enormous. She lowered her fork and whispered a name like a prayer.

  “Kelly Conover.’’

  I’d rather it was Carlos. But he hadn’t returned to the tent. Moments after he stalked out, Jeb left, seemingly unaware of the trouble he’d caused with that casual arm around my shoulder. The irony was that Jeb’s Hollywood fantasy woman was now showing up at the dining area just after he’d managed to doom my relationship, and then disappear.

  I turned in my seat. Sam had come in, too, glued to Kelly’s side. I waved. She smiled at me, and signaled with a Wait-a-minute finger. The two of them exchanged a few words, Sam’s dark head bent toward her golden one. Then he walked to the dessert table, while Kelly headed our way.

  “Okay if Sam and I share your table?’’

  Her demeanor was 100 percent movie star: breathy voice; twinkling eyes; dazzling smile. My sisters were still staring. I gestured for her to have a seat, as we scooted our chairs around to make room. Kelly was gracious as I made introductions. She struck me as a bit fake, the head cheerleader being sweet to the unpopular girls in the cafeteria. My sisters either didn’t notice, or they didn’t care.

  “I’m a big fan,’’ Maddie finally managed to choke out.

  Kelly gushed her thanks, like it was the first time she’d ever heard such an original compliment.

  My little sister simply sat there with a goofy grin on her face. When Kelly said, “You have such beautiful eyes, Marty,’’ she blushed like the captain of the football team had just asked her to go steady.

  Then the star then turned to me. “I owe you an apology.’’

  “Don’t worry about it.’’

  “No, Greg and I acted like spoiled children with those raccoons today. That man always manages to bring out the worst in me. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’’

  You could have tumbled me over with a tickseed flower. As she searched my face with those big green eyes, I managed to sputter out something like, “S’fine.’’ I felt my mouth shifting into a smile, probably just as goofy-looking as Marty’s.

  Sam’s arrival at the table, bearing a brownie cut in half, saved me from saying or doing anything more embarrassing. I hadn’t technically met him, so Kelly performed introductions all around. I took the time to try to regain my composure. I had to forget she was a Hollywood movie queen, and treat her like I’d treat anyone else. Anyone else, I’d flat-out ask what I wanted to know.

  “Something has been bothering me since the day Mama and I found Norman’s body,’’ I said. “Sam told you, ‘It’s over now. He can’t hurt you anymore.’ What did that mean? How ha
d Norman hurt you?’’

  The two of them exchanged a long look. Finally, Kelly seemed to come to a decision. She touched her friend’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Sam. I want to talk about this. Now that Norman’s dead, everyone’s saying how he wasn’t that bad. I can’t stand to hear such a lie. He was a lowdown bastard.’’

  She looked at my sisters and me. “You want to hear how low?’’

  Kelly confirmed what Savannah had hinted, pouring out her heart about how Norman raped her when she was starting out in the movie business.

  “He said I should come to a dinner party at his house so we could talk about a part he had for me. I should have known something was off when I got there. All the other guests were men.’’

  Tears pooled in her green eyes.

  “How old were you?’’ Marty’s voice was soft.

  “I’d just turned sixteen.’’

  Beside me, Maddie inhaled sharply. Sam held tight to one of Kelly’s hands; Marty patted the other. Kelly went on, sketching out the details—how she’d taken such care with what to wear; how her dress was ripped and stained afterward; how her own mother had forbidden her to go to the police.

  “She said we wanted to keep Norman on our side. He could make my career.’’

  We were transfixed. It was like watching a movie, only Kelly was right here and real. Sam’s face was etched in reflected pain. Finally, Kelly’s torrent of words slowed, and then stopped. She sniffled. Sam whipped a tissue from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

  “So, Mace, that’s how he hurt me, and that’s why I hated him.’’ She delicately blew her nose. “I consider his murder a blessing from God, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. That’s what you suspected, isn’t it?’’

  I studied my hands, folded on the tabletop in front of me.

  “Of course she didn’t,’’ Marty quickly said.

  Kelly was staring at me when I raised my eyes. Sam was, too.

  “I’m sorry,’’ I said. “I didn’t know the whole story. All I saw was you spitting on the ground and damning his soul.’’