Текст книги "Mama Sees Stars"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“Bad news.’’ I found Carlos stepping out of the “honey wagon,’’ a trailer with toilets for the movie crew. “An army of paparazzi is marching our way.’’

He scowled at me. I raised my hands, surrender style.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Plus, it gets worse: The gals from Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow beauty parlor called Mama. They say it’s all over town that your police chief is going to be interviewed on three different cable news shows tonight.’’

He rolled his shoulders; a vein pulsed at his temple. “We don’t know squat yet. I hope he doesn’t oversell.’’

“You mean brag about how his hotshot homicide detective from Miamuh is going to hunt down and catch the perpetrator of this hay-en-ous crime?’’

Wincing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that, yeah.’’

I took a quick look around the movie production’s outdoor encampment, known in Hollywood lingo as base camp. Transformed from ranchland, it was a small city of semi trucks and white trailers. Some held movie-making essentials, everything from props and wardrobe, to cameras and lights. Others housed office equipment. Red stars on several trailer doors denoted actors’ quarters.

Awnings had been rolled out and portable tents erected to shield cast and crew from the searing Florida sun. With the murder interrupting the shooting schedule, the movie people sat alone or in small groups. Some talked; others read. The catered lunch was over, but the craft services truck was busy, as cast and crew helped themselves to cold drinks, sweets, and afternoon snacks.

No one seemed to be paying attention to Carlos and me, standing beside a plastic picnic table behind a towering pallet of bottled water. Rolling his shoulders again, he kneaded the back of his neck.

“Have a seat,’’ I said. “Let me see if I can get some of those kinks out.’’

He settled sideways, straddling the bench seat. I sat behind him, my legs on either side of his rear. The skin at the insides of my thighs felt hot where it touched his hips. Softly, I traced a cowlick that defies the straight hairline at the back of his neck. Then I went to work, massaging out the tension and stress trapped in his neck and shoulders.

“Ahh,’’ he moaned. “That’s great. You can go harder if you want.’’

Harder is exactly where I wanted to go, but I restricted myself to the knots in his neck. I ratcheted up the pressure. A grunt escaped his lips, and I knew I was getting the job done.

Strong hands are a benefit of being the kind of girl who rode right alongside the boys in high school rodeo. These days, I easily heft forty-pound bags of animal chow at the makeshift wildlife shelter I established at Himmarshee Park. And I’ve won more than a few rounds of beer in bars, arm-wrestling tough-guy wannabes.

Like my cousin Henry always says, “It’s not bragging if it’s fact.’’

For the next several moments, I rubbed. When I quit, Carlos rolled his head. I heard a couple of soft pops. He leaned back against me and sighed. “You’re a miracle worker, Mace.’’

“You don’t have to leave a tip, just return the favor.’’

He shifted to look over his shoulder at me, a half smile on his lips. “Oh, I intend to.’’ His black eyes smoldered. “I have a long list of ways I plan to return the favor.’’

“I’ll take you up on all of them, after you solve the case.’’

As soon as I saw the furrowing between his eyes, I realized I’d said the wrong thing. Again.

“Uhmm … I didn’t mean it’s contingent on you solving the case. I’d feel the same way about you even if you never solved another case.’’

He cocked his head at me, the frown line getting deeper.

“I mean, of course you’ll solve the case, Carlos. You’ll work it out. You always do. You’re an incredible detective …’’

He put a finger to my lips. The frown faded. “It’s okay, niña. I know what you mean. It’s just that these film people are a different breed. I feel like I did when I was nine years old and came to this country from Cuba. I need a guide, or a translator, or something.’’

His eyes roamed around the tented quadrangle outside the trailers. They caught, and stayed, on Kelly Conover, seated a short distance away in a camp chair in the shade.

“Maybe she’s your gal,’’ I said. “She knows everybody on the set. And she speaks Hollywood.’’

Carlos rubbed his jaw, thinking. The tendon in his forearm tensed, exposed by the rolled-up sleeve of his white dress shirt. I had the urge to trace it with my tongue, traveling up along his arm, and then continuing on a steady path across his broad chest, up the other shoulder, lingering on his neck, and then onward until my mouth met the full, masculine curve of his lips.

But we were in professional mode, so I tamped down my naughty thoughts. Just to be safe, I plunged my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

“Go ahead and talk to her,’’ I said. “It might help the investigation. You know you want to.’’

Gazing at Kelly across a short expanse of well-trodden pasture, he licked his lips. I chose to interpret this is a sign of nervousness, not desire. “She does seem well connected,’’ he said.

“Well, of course she does, Carlos. She’s been around for who knows how many years.’’

Meow!

With my eyes following him as he strode toward Kelly, I didn’t notice Maddie sidle up beside me.

“I’m surprised you let him go.’’ Maddie shoveled in a spoonful of chocolate chip ice cream, a craft services treat.

I turned. Marty stood watching Carlos, too. Mama wasn’t with them. I hoped she was staying out of trouble.

“It’s a free country, sisters. Besides, Carlos and I are past all those games.’’ I swiped a finger through Maddie’s bowl. “Mmm, good. We’re in an adult relationship. I’ve moved on from junior high.’’

Marty stuck in a spoon and took a bird-sized bite of ice-cream. Maddie shot us both a look, and yanked the bowl tight against her chest.

“So, you’re ready to get married, then?’’ Marty turned her blue eyes on me, her gaze as sweet as a baby’s. But I recognized the goading tone. I backpedaled, just as she probably knew I would.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve still got time to walk down the aisle.’’

“Not as much time as you think,’’ Maddie butted in. “You’re not getting any younger.’’

I glanced toward Carlos. Kelly was standing now, with a hand on his arm. That famous body of hers was plastered against his side. He swallowed like a high school freshman asking out the homecoming queen. I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing. Kelly laughed, a seductive purr.

“Better stand back, Maddie. You might get burned from the steam pouring out of Mace’s ears,’’ Marty said.

Our big sister surveyed the set of my mouth, which I knew was pretty grim. She took in the way I held my arms, one clutching the other, tight across my chest.

“Oh, yeah. You’re an adult now. Maybe you can get Marty to go pass a note to Carlos during recess: Do you still like Mace? Check yes or no.’’

I was thinking up a smart remark when a hush fell over the tented area. It was followed by the sound of breathless murmuring. “Talent on set,’’ someone said, and I heard a snicker.

Greg Tilton paused. When nearly every eye was on him, he puffed out his chest and John-Wayne-walked to the coffee urn in the craft services truck. I swear he flexed his bicep before reaching for a cup.

“Why do these Hollywood people always look like they’re making an entrance in a Broadway play?’’ I asked.

Neither of my sisters answered. Both stared at Tilton as if mesmerized by a cloud of golden stardust around his body. I don’t think either of them was breathing.

“He’s even better-looking in person,’’ Marty finally whispered.

“The man is a Hollywood god,’’ Maddie sighed.

I tore a few paper towels off the roll on the picnic table. “Here you go, sisters. Sop up that drool before it drops off your chins and soaks through your blouses.’’

“Gross!’’ Marty jabbed me in the ribs.

“I do not drool.’’ Maddie surreptitiously ran the back of her hand under her mouth, just in case she was wrong. “Drooling is not becoming for a school principal.’’

We watched as Tilton, coffee in hand, strutted over to Kelly Conover. Carlos turned unreadable eyes and an impassive face toward him. Tilton’s arrival gave me the excuse I needed to get closer to eavesdrop more easily on my boyfriend and the gorgeous actress. My sisters moved right along with me.

Tilton leaned toward Kelly. As he whispered something in her ear, he grabbed hold of her elbow. She tugged backwards, but he stepped with her. He looked to be hanging on even tighter. Possessive.

“Were they ever an item?’’ I asked under my breath.

My sisters shrugged.

“We’ll have to find out what it says in People magazine. The shampoo girl at Hair Today will definitely know,’’ I said.

“Mama will know. He’s her favorite actor,’’ Marty said.

Kelly inched back some more, and Tilton quickly closed the gap between them. Carlos put a heavy hand on the action star’s shoulder.

“The lady isn’t interested.’’ His voice was quiet. Dangerous. “Why don’t you back off ?’’

Wisely, Tilton did just that. He dropped his co-star’s elbow and gave a good-natured shrug. “Sorry, Kel. It’s been a hell of a day. I’m not myself.’’

His gaze returned to Carlos. “Thanks, man. I need someone to keep me in line. You’re the real deal, you know that?’’

Carlos raised an eyebrow. His face was still closed; hard-looking. It was his Miami face.

Tilton went on, “Being a cop and all. A detective, I mean. I just respect you guys on the force so much. I always end up acting like a complete idiot when I get around real cops. I’ve played so many—not to mention firefighters, paramedics, and soldiers. I try to act too familiar.’’

Tilton kicked self-consciously at the ground. Could that be a blush spreading up his neck?

“I forget I’m playing a role. You guys play for keeps.’’ He stuck out a hand toward Carlos. “I’m sorry, man, for being a jerk.’’

Carlos hesitated just a second or two, and then shook. The tense posture of his body seemed to relax, the line of his jaw softened. It wasn’t exactly a smile, but it was something less than a scowl.

Just as Carlos opened his mouth to respond, a gunshot ripped through the air. In one fluid motion, he drew his own weapon, whirled toward the sound, and shouted out a command.

“Everybody, get down!’’

I didn’t argue, scrambling under a table for cover. My sisters followed. Most everyone followed suit, including Tilton and Kelly. I peeked out from behind a plastic tablecloth. Apart from Carlos, Toby Wyle was the only person I saw still standing. I pulled the cloth aside and pointed, so my sisters could also see the young star.

White-faced and trembling, gun still in his hand, Toby stared across the tent. My eyes followed his and found Johnny Jaybird, the assistant director. He was hanging on to the back of a folding chair, trying to stand.

“Place the weapon on the ground,’’ Carlos shouted. “Slowly.’’

Toby looked at the gun he held like it was a foreign object that had magically come into his possession. He stared again at Johnny Jaybird, who had knocked over the chair. Johnny staggered, clutching his side. A dark stain seeped through his pearl-colored cashmere sweater.

“Put it down!’’ Gun drawn, Carlos closed in on Toby.

The teenager’s eyes were enormous in his colorless face. He looked once more at Johnny, and then at the gun in his hand. He dropped to his knees, the gun dangling inches from the ground.

It landed with a thud, just as Johnny Jaybird collapsed onto the floor.

“Someone call 911!’’ Jesse Donahue pushed past stunned onlookers. “Do it now.’’ Her voice was urgent, but calm.

She kneeled on the ground beside Johnny Jaybird. Without a wasted motion, she felt for a pulse, and then lifted his cashmere sweater and dress shirt to check the wound. Whipping off a scarf that was tied at her neck, she balled up the fabric and held it to his side.

She looked up, her gaze finding Toby. “Good thing you’re such a bad shot.’’

Carlos stood close to Toby, unloading and checking the gun while keeping an eye on the young star. Toby’s gaze was fastened on the fallen assistant director.

“It wasn’t supposed to be live ammunition,’’ he kept repeating. “It was supposed to be blanks.’’

The crowd pressed in: Watching. Straining to hear Toby’s sing-song chorus of disbelief.

It was supposed to be blanks. It was supposed to be blanks.

“Get outta the way!’’ A loud, raspy voice announced the arrival of Barbara Sydney. “I’m Toby’s manager.’’

I thought he needed an attorney more than a manager at this juncture, but I held my tongue.

She pushed her way to her client, who was still dangerously pale and trembling. She put an arm around his shoulder, tenderly smoothed his hair, and whispered something into his ear. Slumping toward her, he placed his head against her chest. Then he dissolved into sobs.

She raised her eyebrows at Carlos over Toby’s head. “Somebody will surely get all this as a video on their cell phone. He’s just a kid. Can we take him someplace a little more private? Someplace he won’t wind up on YouTube?’’

Things happened quickly in the next few moments: The movie’s set medic rushed in. He waved away Jesse, and conducted a professional assessment of Johnny’s condition. He briefed Carlos, who then summoned Sal via his cell to help handle security in the base camp. Soon, Sal was in place, Johnny was getting emergency treatment, and a county ambulance was en route to the movie location. Carlos returned his attention to Toby and Barbara.

“He’s coming with me,’’ he said. “Is he a minor?’’

“He won’t be eighteen for two weeks,’’ she said.

“Then I suggest you find his parents or get him a lawyer.’’

“I’m an attorney as well as a manager,’’ she said. “I’m staying with him.’’

Carlos scowled at her. “Suit yourself.’’

Like a mother lion protecting a cub, Barbara bared her teeth at Carlos. She stalked along beside him as he took Toby by the arm and led him away.

_____

“You’re pretty good in an emergency, Jesse.’’

Jesse shrugged at me, popping her gum. It seemed she’d returned to her more typical demeanor: dumb, spoiled starlet.

“My father’s a doctor,’’ Jesse said. “I went with him every summer to work at a camp in upstate New York. You wouldn’t believe some of the scrapes those little brats can get into.’’

“Seen a lot of gunshots, have you?’’ I asked, amused.

Another shrug. “A few,’’ she said. “It looked to me like Toby’s shot only grazed Johnny. Didn’t hit anything vital.’’

When I raised my eyebrows, she explained. “My dad’s specialty is emergency medicine. I’ve also shadowed him in the ER. He’d love it if I followed in his footsteps.’’

“Did you have the grades?’’

She shrugged, implying that grades were, like, whatev. “I was better at acting. It’s more my thing.’’

The young star and I sat in two camp chairs outside her trailer. The set medic had stabilized Johnny, and transported him closer to the road to wait for the ambulance. Most of the onlookers, including my sisters, followed them. I’d bet Mama had found her way there, too. I hoped she wasn’t toting her autograph book with her.

Jesse chomped her gum and blew a big, pink bubble. “So, this town seems really boring. Isn’t there anything to do here?’’

“We’ve got a new library,’’ I said. “My sister Marty works there.’’

Jesse crinkled her nose, probably a sign her GPA wasn’t med school material.

“My mama works at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow beauty parlor. She does color consultations and aromatherapy.’’

Jesse’s face brightened; the chewing motions paused. “Do they do massage, too?’’

“Nope.’’

“Mud baths?’’

I shook my head.

“Cavitosonic chambers?’’

“Say what?’’

“How about hot stone treatments? Does the salon have those, at least?’’

“Nope. But you could go down and scoop up some of the gravel for the road project along State Road 70. It gets plenty hot sitting out in the sun.’’

She blew another bubble. “Are there any clubs here?’’

“Not unless you count the VFW hall. We’ve also got a bar at the Speckled Perch restaurant. Thursday is Ladies’ Night: Domestic draft beer is 2-for-1.’’

“Ohmigod!’’ Jesse rolled her eyes. “I am trapped in Hick City.’’

I was about to jump to the defense of my hometown when a siren sounded in the distance. It silenced me, and even seemed to affect Jesse. Her sneer faded, replaced with a sober expression. Soon, I spotted the ambulance on the highway, visible across an open, flat stretch of ranch land. I pointed it out to her as it slowed, preparing to turn down the dirt road that led to the movie set.

Within moments, Johnny would be loaded into the back. The doors would slam shut. I barely knew the man, but I still said a prayer he’d be okay.

I wondered whether Jesse did the same.

“There she is, Mace.’’

Marty nodded toward two people in the distance in dark blue directors’ chairs. Their backs were to us. Mama sat in one; Paul Watkins was in the other. Even if his name hadn’t been spelled out in blocky white letters on the back of the chair, I recognized his khaki bush jacket. His gray ponytail swung from shoulder to shoulder as he shook his head. I could only imagine the question Mama had asked him.

As we drew closer, I saw one of her library books on acting tucked beside her on the chair. I could hear the director chuckling, though, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as I feared.

“Well, there you are, girls!’’

“We’ve been looking for you for a half-hour, Mama,’’ I said. “Is your cell phone battery dead again? The gals from Hair Today called me to find out when you’d be there. They said you’re supposed to finish a color chart tonight for the woman from the Chamber of Commerce, Lori something.’’

“McCaskill. Lori McCaskill. Everybody knows her, Mace.”

She looked at her watch, clasped a hand to her chest. “My stars and garters, where did the time go? Why didn’t you girls come find me earlier?’’

Marty and I exchanged a look. “We left you with Maddie. We thought it was her turn to keep track of time for our fully grown mother,’’ I said.

“No, honey, Maddie had to go home early.’’ Sarcasm eludes Mama. “Tonight is her date night with Kenny, and it’s his turn to choose. They’re going to the tractor pull.’’

“Poor Maddie,’’ Marty said.

The sun was starting to sink in the sky. The energy on the set had already dropped with the exit of the ambulance carrying Johnny Jaybird. Now it seemed further diminished by the dying light. Carlos was with the other authorities, still examining the crime scene by the corral. He’d decided that moving the animals would be more disruptive than leaving them there overnight. Marty had helped me feed the half-dozen horses in the enclosure.

“Let me introduce you girls to Paul.’’ As Mama did the honors, it became clear why he’d been laughing.

“You see that beautiful gold cross in Paul’s earlobe? Now, wouldn’t you girls assume he’s a man of faith?’’

Considering I’d seen a drunken biker with the same gold earring toss a rival into a barroom mirror in Daytona, and then start making out with the guy’s teenaged hooker girlfriend, I wouldn’t assume anything. But I didn’t want to get Mama off track, so I didn’t say so.

“Your mother wondered whether I’d been saved,’’ Paul said dryly.

“I quoted Romans 10:9, girls: If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’’

“And I told your mother I’d let her redeem me in a New York minute. I’m just not sure the Lord wants somebody as bad as me in his saved column.’’

His eyes sparkled. He aimed a purely devilish grin at Mama. He was flirting!

Mama didn’t notice, as she was too busy offering eternal life through salvation. “Of course the Lord wants you, Paul. He may hate sin, but he loves the sinner.’’

“Ah, yes, but do you love the sinner?’’

That come-on was so obvious, even Mama got it. She slapped him playfully on the wrist.

“I love the Lord,’’ she said. “And He knows when you’re being naughty.’’

“Okay,’’ Paul said. “I’m being serious now. You’re a beautiful woman. Have you ever thought about acting?’’

Mama’s eyelashes fluttered. One hand flew to her throat, while the other hid her paperback copy of “The Art of Acting’’ under her leg. “I’m much too modest, Paul. I hate the very thought of being in the spotlight.’’

Marty even rolled her eyes at that. Mama had been saying for weeks this movie could be her ticket to stardom.

“I mean it. You could be an actress. You should let me audition you.’’

Marty and I were transfixed. The man was a walking stereotype of a Hollywood director. Where did he keep his casting couch? We were so transfixed, in fact, we didn’t hear Barbara Sydney approach. But we did hear her screech: “Oh, for God’s sake, Paul. Why don’t you just ask her back to your trailer to see your etchings? Can’t you keep it in your pants, for a change?’’

Her glare took in both the director and Mama. Mama shrank a bit, but Barbara’s tirade bounced off Paul like water off a whirligig beetle.

“Is there something you need?’’ His tone was even.

“Yes. I need a little concern from you for your young star. Toby is still sitting in a police car, waiting for that detective to talk to him. It’s inhumane.’’

“You’re a lawyer. File a lawsuit.’’

“Someone had to have loaded that gun, Paul. It wasn’t Toby.’’

I wondered how Barbara was so sure of that.

“If Norman were here,’’ her voice was taunting, “he’d have worked things out by now.’’

“Yeah?’’ Paul stared at her. “Well, Norman’s not here, may he rest in peace. And there’s not a thing I can do about the fact that he’s dead, or that one of my actors shot my assistant director with a gun that was supposed to be loaded with blanks. How about we let the police do their job, Barbara? Aren’t they still out there, combing the scene?’’

She nodded.

“So, once they finish investigating, we’ll get everything sorted out.’’

Their eyes locked. I hoped birds and small animals stayed out of the charged space between them. Finally, Barbara blinked.

“Fine. Enjoy your floozies.’’ She shot three withering glances, one each for Mama, Marty, and me, and then stomped away.

Paul didn’t watch her go. He was staring intently at Mama, Floozy No. 1. “Barbara just gave me an idea. I see you as a beautiful dancehall girl for the scene where all the cowboys blow their money on women and liquor.’’ He put a hand on her chin, lifted it toward what was left of the sunlight. “I’m not kidding. The camera is going to love this face.’’

Paul’s fingers were tracing the still-smooth line of Mama’s cheek when Sal blustered onto the scene. His face was as dark as a stormy sky over Lake Okeechobee. “We haven’t had the pleasure,’’ he said to Paul, “though I see you’ve met my wife.’’

Hollywood, say hello to New York City. Ego, meet Ego.

“Chill, dude,’’ Paul caressed Mama’s face before dropping his hand from her cheek. “I didn’t mean any harm.’’

The woman who shunned the spotlight didn’t give her husband time to respond before she gushed, “I’m getting a part in the movie, Sally!’’

“Fuhgeddabout it, Rosie.’’ His eyes still bored into Paul. “Everybody’s heard stories about dis ‘dude.’ Paul Watkins is trouble with a capital T, and you’re a married woman. I forbid it.’’

Mama got out of the chair, and pulled herself up to her full height. She barely reached Sal’s chest, but still she stared him down. Her eyes were narrowed, firing off sparks.

“Uh-oh,’’ Marty whispered.

“You said it,’’ I agreed.

We both took a few steps backward, putting ourselves out of collateral damage range.

“Meet me at my Jeep, Mama. I’ll give you a ride to the salon,’’ I shouted over my shoulder, hurrying off with Marty.

Once we were far enough away, my sister said, “That could get ugly.’’

“For Sal, anyway,’’ I said. “Mama will flatten him like an armadillo on State Road 98 if he tries to come between her and that spotlight she claims to hate.’’