As the Jaguar sped past us, I wondered: Could Barbara have been the mystery driver of the light-colored vehicle that nearly killed Toby in the parking lot?
“Hurt her again, and I’ll kill you!’’ The sound of a sharp slap—and the frantic yelping of a Pomeranian—punctuated the angry words.
“Ouch, Jeez!’’
“Shhh, Sal, you’re not supposed to say anything. Use your actor’s physicality. React.’’
Physicality? Surely the book Mama checked out about the Actor’s Studio must be due back at the library by now.
The yapping grew louder. On the other side of Mama’s front door, I could hear her and Sal, along with the scrabble of pedicured paws clicking against the tiled entryway.
“I can’t help it, Rosie. That really stung. I think you’re supposed to pull your punches, honey.’’
I stood on the front stoop, debating whether I was up to the Mama-Sal-and-Teensy circus. The promise of Pizza Night enticed me onward, though. I may have been lovelorn, but I was also hungry. Not counting the brownie, I’d barely had a bite to eat since breakfast.
I opened the door, nudging aside Mama’s pet with the toe of my boot. Of course, Teensy was extremely put out. The little Pomeranian high-tailed away from me, taking a flying leap onto the back of Mama’s peach-colored sofa.
“Teensy! You know better than that,’’ she yelled. “Get off of that couch.’’
As usual, the little yapster paid no mind to his mistress. Burrowing deep between two lemon-sherbet accent pillows, Teensy made himself comfortable. Head resting on his front paws, he lay on the couch and fastened his eyes on Mama and Sal.
They stood, center stage on a wide expanse of peach-colored carpet. Sal rubbed his cheek. Mama gave me a cheery wave. “Hey, darlin!’ We’re running my lines.’’
“Line, Rosie. There’s just the one.’’
“Well, not if you count it by sentences, Sal.’’
I walked over and lifted Sal’s chin. In the peach-colored glow coming from Mama’s Lucite chandelier, I could see a hand-shaped outline starting to show on his cheek.
“That’s got to smart.’’ I leaned closer for a better look. “You should know by now, Sal. Mama’s never been one to pull her punches.’’
She pouted, prettily. “I surely did not mean to hurt him. But the scene has to be believable. Some drunken cowpoke has just gotten fresh. I’m angry. I’ve had all I can take with all these men pawing at me.’’
“Ruby,’’ Sal said. “Ruby has had all the pawing she can take.’’
“Well, of course, Sal! We all know I’m not Ruby. I’m ACTING here.’’
Mama stood on tip-toes and put a hand toward his cheek. Sal bobbed out of reach like a glass-jawed boxer. His palms went up in surrender.
“Don’t come any closer! I’m okay.’’
“So,’’ I said, “Sal’s the stand-in for the drunken cowpoke?’’
He bowed from the waist, pretending to doff a cowboy hat. “At your service, purty lady.’’
Mama harrumphed. “You can offer to serve Mace all you want, darlin,’ but she won’t take you up on it. She prides herself on being independent; not needing anyone. Plus, she’s as stubborn as Grandpa Pete with a pork chop.’’
“We don’t have a grandpa named Pete.’’
“It’s a saying, Mace.’’
“Well, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would a pork chop make someone stubborn?’’
Rolling her eyes, Mama heaved a dramatic sigh: “See what I mean, Sally? Mule-headed.’’
He ignored her, a defensive tactic he’d picked up from my sisters and me. “Any progress on Carlos?’’ he asked. “Are the two of youse getting along any better?’’
My response was a scowl, which must have been surly enough to scare him. Sal pressed his lips together, scurried over to the couch, and scooped Teensy up from between the pillows. Without another word, he and the dog hastened to the safety of the kitchen.
Mama looked at me, her face creased in sympathy. “Oh, honey!’’
A part of me wanted to collapse into tears, and fall into her comforting embrace. But when she leaned over to brush the bangs from my eyes, I jerked my head away. Old habits die hard.
She tsked. “You surely do make life a lot more difficult than it has to be, Mace. Why do you try to push away everyone who loves you?’’
That was a pretty good question. I was still searching for some way to answer, when Teensy let out a yip and tore out of the kitchen. The little dog threw himself at the front door like he’d been shot from a cannon. Each time Mama had a visitor, Teensy believed he was the sole defense against whatever invading force was about to overrun the helpless humans inside. Right now, he was barking at a pitch high enough to make my ears bleed.
A shout came through the window from the front walk. “Mama! If you don’t muzzle that animal, I swear I’m going to skin him alive and make him into a clutch purse.’’
Mama swooped down and put her hands over the dog’s ears. “Hush, Maddie! You’ll hurt Teensy’s feelings.’’
Sal followed the dog to the door. As Mama opened it, he took a pizza box from each of my sisters’ hands. Once Mama and Sal got married, he started taking part in our weekly tradition. It had always been Girls’ Night, but neither my sisters nor I minded him joining in. He helped us keep Mama in line. Lord knew, we needed all the help we could get.
After we’d fixed our drinks and settled into our usual chairs, we divvied up the pizza. I piled three everything-but-anchovy slices on my plate. Between Maddie and Sal, I never knew if I’d get the chance to eat my share. Marty cut her slice of plain cheese into tiny pieces, and slid her crust onto Maddie’s plate. Mama rolled up her slice like a cigar, and took a nibble from the end. Sal covered his with a gale of red pepper flakes, and then ate half the piece in a single chomp.
When he swallowed, he held the remainder of his piece up for our inspection: “I know you girls don’t like to hear this, but this sure ain’t New York–style pizza.’’
“That figures,’’ I said, “since we don’t live in New York.’’
“Thank you, Jesus,’’ Mama added.
“Funny, the fact that Himmarshee pizza is substandard never seems to stop you from eating it,’’ Maddie said.
He finished the first slice, and shook pepper flakes on a second. “I’m just saying …’’
The sound of chewing and drink-sipping rounded the table. Teensy skittered from chair to chair, seeking the softest touch. He bypassed Maddie and me entirely, focusing on Marty, Sal and Mama. At least Marty dropped her morsel for Teensy on the floor; Mama fed the dog from her hand, and then kept eating with the same hand.
“Mama, that’s just gross. Dogs’ mouths are filled with bacteria,’’ I said.
“So are people’s mouths, honey. That doesn’t mean I’d run and wash my face if you gave me a kiss.’’
“So now you’re saying your daughter has the same standing as your dog?’’
Even though I knew what Mama meant, I was in a bad mood and itching for a fight. She gave me a long look, like she was weighing whether to rise to the bait.
“Well, honey, I’m not saying you and Teensy have the same standing. Some days, I like the dog a little bit more.’’
“Ooooh, snap!’’ Maddie said.
Marty, the family diplomat, smoothly changed the subject to one she must have known would effectively keep Mama and me from bickering. “Sal, you’ve been helping Carlos and the police. Who do they think killed the movie producer?’’
We all went quiet as Sal licked pizza grease from his fingers. Mama handed him a napkin, which he folded, unused, and placed beside his plate. “They don’t have a whole lot yet, to tell you the truth. It’s still early in the investigation. They do know the victim was killed where he was found.’’
“Really?’’ I said. “Out in the open like that?’’
“Well, there was no blood trail. You and Rosie might have walked right in on a homicide in progres
s if that morning’s horse scene hadn’t taken so long to film.’’
An image of Norman splayed on the fence ran through my mind. Who had brought about such an undignified end for such a powerful man?
“I’m surprised nobody heard the shot,’’ Maddie said.
“Suppressor.’’ A quartet of puzzled looks were aimed at Sal.
“Commonly called a silencer,’’ he clarified. “And the weapon was small caliber.’’
I digested that detail, along with the pizza.
“What about all the other strange things that have happened on the set?’’ Mama asked. “Does Carlos think they’re related to the murder?’’
Sal extracted another piece from the “everything’’ box. “That’s still unclear.’’
“Did the cops find out where that sandwich Tilton had came from?’’ I asked.
“Tilton told them a whole basket of food was left in the fridge in his trailer. He assumed it was from the production office,’’ Sal said. “He ate one of the sandwiches in the morning, with no ill effects. The second one was the one the raccoon got.’’
Sal shoveled the pizza slice into his mouth. With her usual precise timing, Maddie asked him a question just then. “Is Carlos still looking into whether someone tampered with that light that nearly killed Mace?’’
He put up a hand until he could swallow. “All I know is he’s considering every aspect. He’s under an awful lot of stress, Maddie. It’s not the best time to ask him about Mace.’’
Mama must have pinched him under the table, because Sal suddenly clapped a hand over his mouth. “Jeez, sorry Mace. I meant stress from the case. I wasn’t implying you’re the reason for his stress.’’
The four of them looked at me with sad cow eyes. “I don’t need your pity.’’ I pushed an uneaten slice and a few stray black olives around my plate. “I couldn’t care less what Carlos thinks about me. I’m doing fine.’’
Glances were exchanged, but no one challenged me on that flat-out lie. Mama topped off her glass with sweet pink wine, and then offered the box to me. I waved it away.
“Well, let’s see if you are doing fine.’’ Maddie began to tick off points on her fingers. “You’ve managed to piss off a man who loves you, punch out one who doesn’t, and all while someone else might have tried to kill you. Oh, yeah, and that devil Jeb Ennis keeps hanging around like a pit bull after a bitch in heat.’’
Maddie displayed her hand, with the pinky the only digit left un-ticked. “I’d say you’re doing just Jim Dandy, Mace.’’
Raising her brow, Mama hefted the wine box toward me again. This time, I motioned her to tip that sucker over and keep on pouring.
Dew sparkled on the pasture as if God had tossed out a diamond to adorn every blade of grass. Early morning light glinted off the water in the horse trough. At this time of day, the sun was as welcome as an old friend. By noon, I’d be cursing it as a fiery sweat-ball sent straight from hell by the devil.
As I neared the corral, the horses nickered a greeting. It wasn’t so much that they were ecstatic to see me, as it was the buckets of feed I carried. Still, I gave them a loud how-do whistle in return.
I was all alone this morning, which was fine by me. I’d exhausted my patience for family fun at last night’s pizza dinner. And if I never had to cater to another Hollywood type, I’d be a happy gal. I had a break on that front. Jesse’s next lesson wasn’t until the afternoon; and no horse scenes were planned for the morning.
Even though the animals weren’t needed for filming, they still needed to eat. So here I was: hefting hay and measuring out sweet feed and supplements for my equine charges.
A good-natured Appaloosa mare nosed my shirt collar as I tried to open the gate. A little pony banged its head against the slats of the fence, trying to reach into the feed bucket.
“Go on, get back, now!’’ I shouted. “Y’all better show me some manners, or nobody eats.’’
They knew my threats were hollow. Like Mama with her beloved Teensy, I was a soft touch for the big, pitiful eyes of begging horses.
When I was done distributing breakfast, I returned to the trailer with the empty buckets. I spent some time straightening tack and seeing what supplies were needed. When I came out, the horses had finished eating. They were shifting nervously around the corral. I stopped and closed my eyes, trying to hear what they heard: A crow cawed from a fence post. Cattle lowed in their pen across the pasture. The horses circled the enclosure. Their hooves striking the sandy ground made the sound of muffled clapping.
Then I heard a murmur of distant voices, human voices. Across the way, at the cow pen, I saw Kelly Conover and her mysterious protector, Sam. Her mouth was moving, and her palms were raised to the sky. Sam stood with his head bowed and his hands in his pockets, a short distance from Kelly. I couldn’t distinguish her words, but from her posture, it looked like she was praying. I’d certainly seen her utter a curse, and finish it off by spitting on the ground. I couldn’t believe she was now seeking an audience in the opposite spiritual realm.
Sam waited until she finished, and then he wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace. She rested her head for a moment against his chest, and then pushed away. When one of the horses gave a loud whinny, both of them looked over toward the corral.
They couldn’t have missed me, standing by the fence and gawking at them like I was at a carnival sideshow. I gave a half-hearted wave, and then turned my attention to the horses.
I hoped my lack of enthusiasm would signal I didn’t want company. But the idea she wasn’t wanted wasn’t likely to occur to a woman like Kelly. She started toward me across the field, Sam trailing at her heels like a faithful pet. I boosted myself up onto the fence’s top rail to await my audience with Hollywood royalty.
“Morning,’’ Kelly called cheerfully.
Sam offered a wave that was at least as heartfelt as mine.
“It’s Mace, right?’’
I nodded at Kelly.
“These horses are really beautiful. You do a great job taking care of them.’’ Kelly’s smile was brighter than the morning sun. I felt myself warming to her. “We’re lucky they hired you on as wrangler. Believe me, not everyone is as conscientious as you are about the job.’’
I knew I was grinning like an idiot. It turned out flattery from a mega-star worked just as well on me as it did on most other people. I tipped my cowgirl hat and scuffed at the rail below me with my boot heel, playing up my yokel’s role. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. Thanks!’’
A sly smile transformed Sam’s face—the first time I’d seen any expression aside from a frown of worry or concern. So it seemed there was a personality there, behind those studious eyeglasses and steadfast devotion to Kelly.
“I couldn’t help but notice you over there with your palms raised. I don’t mean to get personal, but were you praying?’’
I expected her to burst out laughing. Hollywood wasn’t exactly known for its godly devotion.
“That’s exactly what I was doing. Praying for forgiveness, in fact.’’
“Don’t look so shocked,’’ Sam said. “Not everyone in the movie industry is a godless heathen.’’
“I didn’t think they were,’’ I lied.
“Right,’’ Kelly said. “In fact, Sam was just about born in a pew. His dad was the pastor of a little storefront church.’’
“Part-time,’’ he said. “He worked full-time as an electrician. He always liked to say that the church fed souls, but it was electrical work that fed the family.’’
Kelly smiled at him. “Sam played the piano in their church.’’
“Badly,’’ he said. “But I enjoyed it. My father and I were close. We did everything together.’’
“Did he pass away?’’ I asked.
He nodded. “My senior year in high school.’’
“I lost my daddy, too,’’ I said. “I always wonder how life would have been different for us if he hadn’t died.’’
Sam regarded m
e with dark eyes, full of intelligence and compassion. I could understand why Kelly wanted him as a friend, even if she didn’t love him the way he so obviously loved her.
“I’m sorry about your father, Mace. Losing a parent stays with you your whole life, doesn’t it?’’
I nodded, grateful for the hat brim that kept my face in shadow.
“Well,” Kelly said, “I know one thing that’d be different. Sam probably wouldn’t be a Hollywood film editor if his dad had lived. Right, Sam?’’
From under my hat, I saw him nod.
“My father was convinced Hollywood was a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. Some days, I think he had it right.’’ He chuckled. “Besides, I planned to work with my dad after high school. He even had the signs made up before he died: Dobbs and Son.’’
“Sam’s a brilliant editor.” Kelly beamed at him. “One of the best in the business. Most of his magic is created after the film is shot.’’
“So that’s why you haven’t been that busy on the set,’’ I said.
“Right. I come to locations when I can,’’ Sam said. “I like to watch out for Kelly.’’
“I don’t know what I’d do without Sam.’’ She patted his arm. “He’s my best friend.’’
Sam looked like he could listen to her brag on him all day. But I was curious about something else besides film editing and their one-sided relationship.
“You said you were praying for forgiveness, Kelly. What for, if you don’t mind me asking?’’
She raised those glorious green eyes to the sky. Her lovely face was open, guileless. She didn’t look like she minded at all the personal nature of my question.
“You know God sent his son to redeem our sins, right?’’
Her question made me think of all my Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings in church; of singing hymns and memorizing scripture. Maybe I didn’t spend as much time in the pew these days as Mama or Maddie did, but I still considered myself a believer.
Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Page 16
