She marched toward the ribbon of smoke. The grasses were wet but her boots were high. Warmed from the exercise, she took off her fleece and tucked it under her arm, her breath not exactly labored but increased. Physical exertion after yesterday’s sedentary activity and riding on the airplane this morning cleared her mind and buoyed her spirits. Of course they would get Ben out of this. She would have the life she wanted.
Before she knew it, she’d reached Ellen’s house. She knocked on the front door and heard footsteps before the door was thrust open, revealing Ellen. She had on an apron covered in flour and carried a rolling pin. “Bella, what a nice surprise. Come on in.” She opened the door wider and motioned for Bella to follow her.
It was warm inside and smelled of cinnamon and butter. Ellen’s house looked remarkably similar to Lee’s house. She said as much to Ellen. “Well sure, Lee’s grandfather built this house right after he built the other. We had a tiny one-room shack for a whole year before this house was built. Let me tell you, spending a long rainy season with my husband, well, it wasn’t what you’d call a party. He was a drinker, you see, and a mean drunk. Used to get in the whiskey and start beating on me. I’d have to run on over to Rose’s and hide out there ‘til he sobered up.” Without pausing, she cut a piece of apple pie and put it on a plate. “You better go ahead and have a piece of this. I’ve made plenty.” Ellen pointed to the counter. There were six pies lined up in a row. Two more, uncooked, sat by the stove. Two others were in the oven.
“Why so many? Is there a bake sale or something?” River Valley was the type of place to have a bake sale, right? What was a bake sale for? Raising money for something, Bella supposed. Venice Beach did not have bake sales. Maybe she should learn to bake. Then she could participate in bake sales.
Ellen clapped her hands together. “Where did you go there, sugar? Your eyes got all glazed over.”
Bella shrugged, feeling sheepish. “Just daydreaming about learning how to bake. Or bake sales.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m delirious from the last couple of days.”
Ellen was now pouring a glass of milk. “I can’t ever get Lee and Annie to eat any of my pies. Those two nitwits always worried about their weight, which is ridiculous—don’t know why you modern girls think being stick thin is attractive. What I wouldn’t have given for Ava Gardner’s figure.”
Bella dug into the pie. It was heaven: a burst of cinnamon and apple and the crust was flaky and tasted of butter. “I may have to have another piece of this,” she said between bites. “What did you say all these were for again? ‘Cause if it’s a bake sale, I want to buy one.”
“You just take whatever you want home. I made these for the crew. Oh, and that director Richard—what a nice man—so polite and intelligent, not at all what I would have expected from someone from Hollywood. You know, I never actually met a Jewish man before. Now don’t look at me like that. Around here we don’t have any Jews, not that I have one thing against them. Matter of fact, I’m not one much for organized religion or doctrine. Lee’s always trying to get me to go to church now she’s married to Tommy—he’s a Jesus lover, you know.” She opened the oven and leaned over, peering at her pies. “Yep, these are done.” Using oven mitts with a pattern of roosters, she pulled out the pies. Gooey sauce spilled from the sides and onto the counter. “Shoot, Bella, I never saw such a sight in my life as this movie business right here in River Valley. I hate to admit it, but I’m a little star struck, which is downright embarrassing. But think of it! Filming a movie in the old Tucker place. Oh, Lee’s other grandmother, Rose, she was my best friend you know, she’d have gotten such a kick out of this. She practically swooned for the movies. I always thought it was a bit of nonsense but we used to go into town and watch the matinee. We’d wear our hats and our Sunday best and Rose’s husband always sent a few extra nickels with us so we could buy a treat. Lord, that Rose loved her candies. She was a plump little thing, always sneaking a cookie even when she told me she’d like to reduce. That’s what we called it back then, reduce. I was always skinny as a bone. Lee took after me that way, nothing but a flat board. The amount of cottage cheese poor Rose used to eat. That’s what all the magazines back then would tell you. Cottage cheese to reduce. Ridiculous, of course. Well, I guess. Actually, I shouldn’t say that, not having ever been on a diet in my life.”
“Ellen?”
“What’s that now?”
“Do you think Lee would rent me her house when the filming’s over?”
“I’m sure she would.” Ellen crossed her arms over her chest. “You thinking of moving here?”
Bella flushed with warmth, realizing she hadn’t told anyone out loud. “Ben and I want to get married.”
Ellen’s eyes sparkled. “Well, now, that’s a little soon, don’t you think?” But Bella could tell by the way she said it that Ellen didn’t really think it was too soon.
“Do you think love at first sight’s a real thing?”
“I most certainly do. Verle and I are the perfect example.”
“Was that how it was for you two?”
“Yes, and think about that. Both of us in our seventies, just minding our own business and boom, there was the other.”
“How come you two don’t get married?”
Ellen smoothed her apron with her hands. “He wants to. I just don’t know if I want some old geezer in my house all the livelong day.”
“But you said you love him.”
“I surely do. And he stays over most every night. But there’s something to be said for us choosing the other every day instead of waking up married, obligated, so to speak. This way the romance never dies. Each day, he calls me up and asks may he come over and I always say yes. We choose the other every time. Does that make sense?”
Bella sighed, making a heart with her fork in the leftover sauce around the empty plate. “It does. So romantic, actually.”
“Why Bella Webber, you’re nothing but a softie. I had you pegged for a saucy, hard little thing when I first saw you traipsing around in your bikini at Drake’s.”
“That was before I met Ben. My heart’s turned into a bunch of goo.”
“Well, now, I don’t think you two should live in sin like Verle and me. Don’t want to give you that impression one bit.”
Bella laughed. “Why not? You just said how romantic it is.”
“Yeah, but we’re not young. You two need to get married and start making some babies.”
“Oh, Ellen, I would love a baby. I mean, not right away. But I saw that swing out there by the river and all I could think of was a little boy and Alder shouting and swinging on Sunday afternoon.”
Ellen patted her arm. “That would be something.”
Bella glanced at her watch. “Yikes. I have to get back to set. We’re filming in a half hour and I have to make sure my beauties are beautiful.”
“Run along now. You tell Richard I’ll bring the pies over later tonight.”
“Los Angeles caterers have nothing on you, Ellen.”
“Amen to that.”
Cheered by Ellen’s good company, she traipsed back through the grasses, bowed now from her earlier footsteps as if ashamed. The sun had appeared when one of the dark storm clouds moved. Drops of water clung to the grass and glittered in the bright light. The yellow hues of the grasses were as varied as the variety in her eye shadow kits: Dijon mustard, straw, autumn leaves, roasted marshmallow. She could see the farmhouse when her cell phone buzzed with a text. It was from Ben. “Drake posted bail. I’m free. For now anyway. Missing you like crazy. And scared, Bella. Really scared.”
She stopped, typing quickly with her thumbs. “I’m scared too. But Peter and I are onto something. I’ll be home around nine. Filming until then.”
Bella and Cleo were with Genevieve in her trailer, playing Crazy Eights. As they set cards down, the two actresses ran lines for the scene they would film after dark. Bella kept one eye on the script, prompting them if they stumbled on
a line.
“I have to be perfect, Bella,” said Gennie. “Not a missing or exchanged word.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Bella. “I’ve done this before.”
Gennie smiled. “Of course you have. It’s just I want to honor the writer by getting every one of her words correct.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard this from you before too.” Bella yawned, feeling the effects of yesterday’s traveling and the constant worry about Ben.
“Learned this trick in drama school,” said Cleo after they’d run the scene through three times without missing a line. “Running lines while doing a meaningless task.”
“Whoever says Crazy Eights is meaningless never had to occupy a ten-year-old boy,” said Bella, thinking of the many games she’d played with Alder last summer.
“Sometimes I do it jumping rope,” said Genevieve.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” said Cleo. “I need to figure out how to lose a few pounds anyway.”
“Can we play poker now?” asked Bella.
“I hate playing poker with you,” said Genevieve. “You always win.”
Bella grinned. “It’s because you have no poker face. I can read you like a book.”
“When was the last time you read a book?” said Genevieve.
“Cleo, I have to tell you what Peter said to Madam Zinn.” She relayed the story to the two women. “Your husband’s a cool cat, as Alder would say. Although his whole health food thing is annoying.”
“Tell me about it,” said Cleo.
Genevieve’s voice was soft, almost wistful. “They don’t make many men like Peter Ball.”
“Or Ben Fleck,” said Cleo to Bella.
“Or Stefan Spencer,” said Gennie.
Had she just said that? Bella watched her friend’s face carefully. Was there something between them or were they just friends? “What’s going on between you two?”
Gennie smiled, her eyes glassy. “He’s the most generous actor I’ve ever worked with.” She put her hand on Cleo’s forearm. “And by actor, I mean male actor. Most of the women I work with are very generous. Comes with being a woman, I think. We’re more apt to give others the spotlight.”
“I can’t believe I’m actually sitting here talking to Genevieve Banks about acting.” Cleo pinched her own arm. “Is this a dream?” She sobered, looking guilty. “Of course, I feel terrible about the way I arrived here.”
“Tiffany made poor choices, again and again, and received many second chances,” Genevieve said, not unkindly or with judgment, but with the sad tone of inevitability.
There was a light tap on the trailer door and then Peter entered. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, we’re running lines and waiting for them to call us,” said Cleo.
Peter kissed his wife on the cheek and then turned to Bella. “I have news. We were right about Hough. The front desk clerk remembered him. And he’s in the footage. Registered under John Miller. Paid cash. But it’s him. Which means he was in the lodge the night she was killed.”
Hope beat loud in Bella’s chest and spread to her limbs. This was the break they needed. He had to be the killer. And Hough’s brother had pinned it on Ben to cover it up. “What next?” she asked Peter.
“I’m going to the Echo Grove District Attorney with this. If he has any integrity at all he’ll order a DNA test, and if it’s Rawley Hough’s sperm, they’ll start an investigation. My prediction is both brothers will go down.”
“Have you told Ben yet?” Bella realized she was still holding her cards. She set them on the table.
“I talked to Annie. Drake and Ben are on their way home from Echo Grove. She said she’d tell them about it when they got there. I’m going to track down the local D.A. Apparently he eats at the Echo Grove Country Club every Tuesday night.”
Bella slid her cards across the table. “I’m coming too.”
“But what about us?” asked Gennie.
“I’ll get the other girl to cover me. But I’ll probably be back in time given how slowly they’re moving.”
Gennie nodded. “All right. Good luck.”
“Yeah, good luck,” called Cleo as the trailer door shut behind them.
Chapter 16
The Echo Grove Country Club was next to a golf course overlooking the valley below. Peter asked the hostess at the club’s restaurant to point him to the District Attorney, Jeremy Hayes, which she did without question, which Bella found odd. No one in Los Angeles would do that. People were so trusting here. It was weird.
Mr. Hayes was dining alone. He was a large man, not overweight but oversized, with shoulders the size of a linebacker and legs that stretched almost the entire length of the table. There was a half-eaten steak and baked potato on his plate and a diet soda with lemon next to it. He looked up from his dinner when they approached, with an expression of curiosity on his square face. Bella guessed he was in his fifties but his skin was dark and unlined. His nose was hawk-like and his eyes the color of bitter coffee next to high, deep cheekbones. Native American, Bella wondered?
“Mr. Hayes, I’m Peter Ball from the Seattle Police Department. I apologize for interrupting your dinner but I need a word with you about a personal matter.”
Hayes nodded at him, his thick eyebrows knotting together like two caterpillars kissing. He set aside his plate and indicated for them to sit. “I know who you are. I’ll choose to ignore the fact you’re clearly working outside your jurisdiction.” His voice was low and deep and without inflection.
Peter looked surprised. “You know who I am?”
“My people know you’ve been looking into the Tiffany Archer murder.”
“Oh, well, do you know why?” Peter and Bella both sat.
Hayes ignored the question. “I knew your father back in the day.”
Peter flinched like Hayes had suddenly moved to strike him. “Oh.”
Hayes moved his eyes to Bella. Although he spoke to Peter he kept his gaze upon her. “Played football with him at Oregon. Shame what happened to his knee. These are defining moments, I’m afraid. How we react to something catastrophic can determine the path of our lives.”
Bella squirmed in her seat. Was it unusually hot in here? She shrugged out of her jacket, slipping it around her waist where it stayed, like a child’s inner tube.
“Yeah, well, all indications were he was an asshole even before he blew out his knee.” Peter played with the tablecloth, his fingers gathering the material into a bunch before smoothing it with his other hand.
Shocked, Bella turned to look at her new friend. This was not the Peter she knew and had grown so fond of the last several days. His voice had sounded like someone young and petulant but at the same time weary and sour.
Hayes turned his gaze back to Peter. “Ah, well, the sins of the father are evident here.”
Peter stared back at him with the eyes of a wounded child but was silent.
Hayes’s glittering black eyes moved to her, resting without blinking on her face. “You’re Drake Webber’s sister.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah. You know him?”
“I know of him. He’s a generous man. There are several philanthropic endeavors he’s committed to here in Echo Grove very close to my heart.” He pushed back his chair slightly from the table and crossed one enormous leg over the other. “You’re both here to talk to me about Ben Fleck’s innocence. Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right,” said Bella, somewhat alarmed. Did he know everything about them? Hayes was like the male, suit-wearing version of the freaky medicine woman telling fortunes out of her shack in the bayou.
“I’m good at my job, Mr. Hayes,” said Peter, sounding again like a child talking to his father.
“I know. I’ve followed your career.”
“You have?” Peter was still now. Was he breathing?
“Yes.” Hayes said this simply, as if it were of no consequence and therefore needed no explanation. “You’re a man of character.” He spread his enormous hands
over his chest and took in a deep breath. “Tell me your theory.”
Peter did so, telling him what they’d discovered and his suspicions about Hough and Carrot Cop. Hayes kept his gaze focused on Peter’s face the entire time but did not react in any discernible way. After he finished, Hayes sat forward and took a sip of his soda. “I’ve suspected all along Ben Fleck was innocent. And I believed there was something rotten inside our police department. However, I wasn’t sure why they would pin it on someone who would surely be cleared the minute a DNA test came back and I could not imagine the motive for doing so. Therefore, I’ve chosen to let it unfold, hoping the guilty parties would become obvious. My sincerest apologies to Mr. Fleck but up until now, I’ve had nothing concrete with which to substantiate my suspicions other than an anonymous tip from someone inside the police force. Mr. Ball, you’re indeed good at your job. I expect my colleagues in Los Angeles and my Echo Grove team can adequately take it from here. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the office. Expect all charges against Ben Fleck to be dismissed within the hour.” He rose to his feet and it seemed to Bella it must take great strength to heave such a body out of a chair. “Before I go, tell me about young Fred Hughes.”
“Green, but a man of character,” said Peter.
“Excellent. I’ll call you later, Mr. Ball, to apprise you of the situation. Good night, then.” He shook both their hands in succession. “The sins of the father, Bella Webber, needn’t dictate your life. You’re a woman of character, despite it all.” He headed toward the exit in long strides, surprisingly graceful for a man his size. And then he was gone. The room seemed smaller, somehow, and dimmer.
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