by Anne Canadeo
“She’s with a patient. We’ll have to fill her in later,” Lucy said.
“She’ll see it on the news tonight. But we have the inside story. Inside Trina Hardwick’s trailer, you might say. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Maggie cocked her head. “That all sounds very titillating, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. Can you tone down the celebrity gossip slang a bit?”
Lucy laughed. “We went to the house where the movie company is filming. Suzanne wanted to drop off some papers for Lyle Boyd. When we got there, there were fire trucks and an ambulance. There’d been a fire in one of the trailers.”
“In Heath’s trailer,” Suzanne continued. “And we were so worried about him when we heard—”
“I wasn’t worried,” Lucy scoffed.
Suzanne gave her a look. “Yes you were, but that’s besides the point . . .”
“The point being, he wasn’t in his trailer?” Maggie guessed.
“Exactly. A TV news crew came to cover the fire. But right after the van left, we saw Heath and Trina sneak out of some other trailer. Wrapped up in blankets and not much else. They’d obviously been caught. Together . . . well, up to something.”
Maggie’s brows jumped up a notch as she took a sip of tea. She set her mug aside and took up her needles. “I guess that’s no great surprise.”
“Maybe not. But it would be a juicy item for the media,” Suzanne replied. “Too bad I didn’t have my phone handy. That photo would be worth serious money.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t,” Lucy said with a sigh. “Don’t you think people deserve some privacy, even if they are movie stars? And everyone’s always making assumptions about their behavior. It’s awful the way photographers climb trees and hide behind bushes to snap candid pictures with all kinds of telescopic lenses. As if these poor actors were animals out in the wild.”
Her two friends stared at her. “My goodness. You feel very strongly about that, don’t you?” Maggie asked.
Lucy shrugged. “I just think it’s very low to make money from embarrassing people publicly.” She glanced at Suzanne, hoping she wasn’t offended. But it was true.
“When you put it that way, I have to agree. I wouldn’t have tried to sell the picture. Or blackmail them,” Suzanne promised, digging into her salad. “Though someone with less scruples might have done both. At least I got to see Heath, in all his glory. My life is complete. And no one was hurt—that’s the main thing.”
“Yes, it is,” Maggie agreed. “But this movie isn’t going very smoothly, is it? First that light tower practically smashes Jennifer Todd, then a fire breaks out.”
“And let’s not forget that weird flower delivery,” Lucy reminded them.
“You mean 1-800-Lovelorn-Stalker?” Suzanne asked. “How could we?”
“Do you think every movie crew has these problems?” Maggie asked. “I suppose there are always going to be mix-ups and setbacks. Equipment breaking down and accidents. Even stalkers.”
“I think movie people are used to a few speed bumps. But it’s starting to seem like this production is jinxed. Hate to sound superstitious,” Suzanne added. “The bottom line is they keep losing time and that costs money. If someone wants to throw a monkey wrench into the works, this is a good way to undermine the picture.”
“It is now,” Lucy agreed. “I guess they need to stay in town longer than planned. Or work around the clock to make up for lost time.” Late nights with lots of coffee. She knew that drill.
“Where was Jennifer? Did you see her this morning?” Maggie asked.
Lucy and Suzanne shook their heads. “No, we didn’t.” But before Lucy could say more, the bell on the shop door sounded. Lucy expected to see Phoebe, returning from her morning classes, or maybe even Dana, dashing down the street between appointments.
But it was Alicia Littel. She took a few steps into the shop and smiled shyly.
“Alicia . . . hello,” Maggie greeted her warmly. “What a nice surprise.”
“Hi, everyone. Am I interrupting something?” she asked politely.
Maggie shook her head. “Not at all. We’re just . . . chatting.”
Of course she didn’t want to admit they were gossiping about the movie crew. “How can I help you? Ready to start your knitting lessons?”
“Not quite . . . but I’m getting there.” She held up her hand and showed them a smaller bandage that crossed her palm. “Jen has been knitting like wild, though, and asked me to pick up more yarn. I’m not sure what kind. She gave me a label,” the assistant explained, pulling a slip of paper from her jacket pocket.
Maggie rose and slipped on her glasses to read it.
“We were at the beach house this morning and saw the fire trucks leaving,” Suzanne told Alicia. “Thank goodness no one was hurt.”
“Oh yes, the fire,” Alicia said. “Jen wasn’t needed on the set this morning, so we stayed at the inn. But we heard about the whole thing. Heath probably did something stupid, like dumped cigarette butts in a trash basket.”
“Heath smokes? I thought he was a vegetarian and meditates and all that.” Suzanne sounded shocked.
“Whoops . . .” Alicia covered a smile with her hand. “I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
“We won’t tell, will we, Suzanne?” Lucy glanced at her friend. Suzanne shook her head, looking disappointed at this disclosure.
They hadn’t spent much time with the movie people, but there did seem to be an awful lot of secrets among them, Lucy reflected.
“I’m just relieved Trina didn’t come running out of Nick’s trailer half naked.” Alicia rolled her eyes. “Trina is such a slut. She didn’t get any therapy for that while she was away.”
The knitting friends glanced at one another. Strong words coming from the otherwise demure girl.
Was that what had happened, Lucy wondered—Trina and Heath ran out of Trina’s trailer when the fire started? Alicia seemed to be saying that was what she and Jennifer had heard. And from what she and Suzanne had seen, it seemed possible.
But why did Alicia allude to Trina and Nick being involved, too? Was it just some groundless fear because Alicia saw the young actress as a threat to Jennifer? Or was there something more to that comment?
Lucy wasn’t bold enough to ask. But Suzanne was.
“Do Nick and Trina have something going on, too?” she practically whispered. “I thought Jen and Nick were rock solid.”
“They are,” Alicia insisted. “But this is Trina’s big break since she screwed up and she’s not on screen much. Everyone knows she’d do anything to see more Trina Hardwick in the movie. Nick is . . . well . . . he’s getting older and it doesn’t take much to flatter him.” She sighed and shrugged. “I just feel sorry for Jen. Women are always throwing themselves at him.”
Alicia was fiercely loyal to Jennifer, that was for sure. And many people took an instant dislike to Trina, from her reputation alone. Especially other women, Lucy had noticed.
Maggie found the yarn Alicia needed in one of the baskets near the register. Lucy was glad that she had not needed to go back to the storeroom and miss all this juicy gossip.
“Here you go. How many skeins does she need?”
“Just one will do,” Alicia replied.
Maggie thought she’d given Jennifer enough to finish the pattern, but if she had a tight stitch, she would need more. Maybe she was making the project as a gift, in a larger size than her own. She might have wanted extra just in case.
Maggie put the skein in a plastic bag, knowing Jen already had a tote. Alicia began to open her purse but Maggie waved at her. “Don’t worry. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, Maggie, you don’t have to do that. Jen wants me to pay you,” Alicia said.
“Tell her it’s a thank-you . . . for inviting us on the set again,” Maggie reassured her.
“If you insist. That’s very generous.”
“It’s my pleasure. I don’t have many customers who are mo
vie stars. In fact . . . I’d say Jennifer is my first and only. And we’re all excited to visit Thursday night. Tell Jennifer I look forward to seeing her progress on the knitting project.”
“I will,” Alicia promised. “She’s been sort of bored today. She was supposed to give a speech to the students at her old high school in Newburyport, but she had to cancel at the last minute.”
“Is she feeling all right?” Maggie asked with concern.
Alicia shrugged. “She’s all right. It was just that . . . something came up.”
She caught herself from saying more. Lucy exchanged glances with her friends, but didn’t speak. Their silence seemed to draw Alicia out.
“That crazy fan again,” Alicia admitted quietly. “He left more flowers in the middle of the night, right outside her hotel room, and a really weird note. It scared her. She was afraid to go out today. Even with security.”
Maggie looked alarmed by the report. “That is frightening. I think it’s very wise of her to be careful until this person is caught. What do the police say?”
Alicia shrugged, her gaze downcast. “I don’t know . . . she didn’t tell me. I did hear her talking to Nick about it. He’s handling everything.”
Lucy wondered what that meant. She’d already heard how much the temperamental director disliked bad publicity.
“As long as someone gets to the bottom of it. It’s probably best for her to be on the cautious side,” Maggie said.
“I think it is, too. I worry about her. She takes too many chances. She’ll stand right in the open, signing autographs all day. She never wants to hurt anyone’s feelings,” Alicia told the women.
Suzanne smiled. “That’s why she’s America’s Sweetheart.”
“I guess so. One of the reasons,” Alicia agreed, finally smiling again. “Thanks again for the yarn, Maggie.”
“It was nothing. I hope you and Jennifer just kick back and have a relaxing day. That will be the perfect distraction,” Maggie advised.
Alicia waved as she stepped out the door. “Thanks . . . we will.”
Maggie took up her knitting and waited a moment after the door closed behind Jennifer’s assistant. “That was enlightening. There’s a lot going on behind the scenes of Love Knots, isn’t there?”
“Oh yeah,” Suzanne agreed. “It sounds as if Jennifer has to keep her eye on Nick. Could you imagine? He’s only married to one of the most beautiful women in the world. Men are never satisfied, are they?”
“Some men,” Maggie agreed. “But we don’t even know that for sure. It sounds as if Alicia has just observed Trina flirting. Which might not mean a thing.”
“Alicia is very protective of Jennifer. Devoted to her,” Lucy added.
“And more worried about the stalking fan than Trina Hardwick. With good reason,” Maggie added. “I must confess, I don’t have a clear sense of where the police are in all of this. I’m not even sure it’s been reported.”
“I’m not, either. Alicia didn’t seem to know for sure,” Lucy observed. “Would they take that kind of chance with Jennifer’s safety? Even considering bad publicity?”
“Hard to say. But maybe I should tell Charles,” Maggie said, meaning Charles Mossbacher, a detective for the county police department who Maggie had recently begun dating. “Not really report it, but just put him on the alert? But we did promise Jennifer and I don’t want to go back on my word.”
“I think the information can only get to the media if someone makes an official report and it goes on the police blotter,” Lucy said. “That’s how reporters pick up these things. Or they have inside information, like Dana’s husband.”
“Or they listen to one of those police-band radios twenty-four/seven,” Suzanne added. “I had a boyfriend once who did that.”
“Was he a reporter?” Lucy had finished her salad and snapped the plastic lid shut.
“Nope. Just a little nutty. He didn’t last too long.” Suzanne rose and gathered her trash, then grabbed her big handbag and checked her phone. “Got to run. Sales meeting this afternoon. I have to make big smiley faces about Marcy Devereaux being crowned salesperson of the month again.” Suzanne made a big fake smile and stuck out her tongue at her office rival.
“Don’t worry, Suzanne. Every dog has their day,” Lucy said sympathetically. “You’ll land some big deal soon and win another travel mug. I have a feeling.”
“If the listing doesn’t burn down or explode in the meantime,” Suzanne replied. “I will say this has been a worthwhile morning, even without earning a red cent. Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun, Lucy. I won’t believe you.”
Lucy grinned. “It was definitely more exciting than designing a brochure for assisted-living condos.”
“Wow-ee . . . More fun than watching paint dry, too, I guess,” Suzanne mumbled under her breath.
Lucy just laughed. Maggie shook her head. “You did miss your calling as an actress, Suzanne. It’s very clear to me now.”
Suzanne stood at the door and waved good-bye in a slow, theatrical manner. Lucy could tell she had enjoyed the comment. “What can I say, Maggie? All the world’s a stage. And we are all actors of one kind or another. Farewell, mes amis!” she added, blowing kisses from both hands.
Two more customers had wandered in and turned to peer at Suzanne curiously, then whispered to each other. Maggie scooted over to give them some attention. “Oh dear, I hope she hasn’t scared them off.”
Lucy doubted that. The ladies seemed too interested in a new yarn display—organic fibers and light, bright spring colors. Lucy would have checked it out, too, but it was well past time for her to head home.
She didn’t live far from the village and set out at a brisk pace. Matt had late hours at the animal hospital tonight and wouldn’t be home until ten. She still had a good stretch of time to work and catch up with her deadline.
It had definitely been fun to skip work for a few hours. More than Lucy had admitted to her partner in crime . . . for fear of encouraging her. The plain truth was, you never knew what’s going to happen when you rode shotgun with Suzanne.
Chapter Five
“Just got the email with instructions for tonight. Alicia put our names on a list with security. There are a lot of other dos and don’ts for visitors on the set. Alicia is very efficient, isn’t she?”
Maggie had printed the email and showed it to Phoebe. Her assistant looked up briefly from the newspaper she was reading but didn’t reply. Perhaps she thought Maggie was intimating that her own assistant was not as efficient? Maggie didn’t mean it that way at all . . . though the two were completely different. Still, given the choice, she’d choose Phoebe’s creativity over Alicia’s crisp efficiency any day.
On Thursday morning, Maggie and Phoebe had opened the shop at the usual hour, but would have to close early, definitely by three.
That was when the movie company would arrive to set up again. They planned to start shooting at five, though there was no telling when they would be done, Alicia had mentioned in her note. She’d also hinted it might take hours to film a single scene before Nick Pullman was happy with it.
Maggie knew she wouldn’t last that long. She just wanted to watch the actors for a little while and get a sense of how it was done.
From all that she’d heard so far, watching the process of filming a movie certainly threatened to ruin the magic. Like seeing how sausage was made. A saying of her mother’s that seemed to apply fairly well.
Phoebe should have started setting up for a class, Knitting 101, but she was still sipping her coffee and paging through the latest edition of The Plum Harbor Times.
“Alicia told me that they’ve added a knitting group to the scene we’re going to see, sitting in the background,” Maggie told her. “That will be fun. To see actors who are supposed to be . . . well, us. Don’t you think?”
Phoebe frowned, still staring down at the paper. Maggie could tell she was in a pout about something.
“We should have been extras in the s
cene, playing ourselves. We gave Jennifer the idea.” She glanced over at Maggie and back at the newspaper again. “I was reading about it online. There’s some dumb rule, even if she did ask them to hire us. The movie company has to hire a certain number of union actors first, like thirty or something, before they can hire amateurs. So unless they were doing a big crowd scene, we didn’t have a chance.”
“Too bad. Maybe next time.” Personally, she was relieved. Maggie had always been more of an observer than a performer. Expressing herself through mediums like yarn or paint, that was her way of performing.
But of course, so much of life required a little acting. Being a shopkeeper and a teacher, for example. William Shakespeare had been right: all the world was a stage, and men and women merely players, with their exits and entrances, and one man playing many roles in his lifetime.
“Did you print out the instructions and the picture for the class?” Maggie asked.
“It’s all in the folder, next to the register . . . and the needles and yarn are in the storeroom.” Phoebe finally looked up. “Look at this, a big article about the movie.”
Phoebe turned the paper so she could see. The article took up two pages side by side, with several photos. Still shots from the movie that would probably be used in promotion—Jennifer and Heath, embracing on the beach, and one of Jennifer and Trina in the shop.
“Another? I thought the paper did an article last week, when the crew came to town.”
“This one has a different slant. It’s more about Jennifer growing up in Newburyport. There are photos from her yearbook. She was in the chorus and Drama Club . . . and the Science Club.”
“The last is a surprise, but the first two seem logical,” Maggie replied.
“Look at that hairdo . . . I barely recognized her.”
“It’s a challenge,” Maggie agreed, taking in the big-hair style of the era and the shoulder pads in Jennifer’s dress that made her look like an NFL player in drag. “Why is it that when we look back at old styles, we always think that we looked hideous, but at that time, we thought we looked so good?” she murmured.
