Текст книги "Mama Sees Stars"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

The Bar J Ranch crew arrived with its own soundtrack. A stock trailer squeaked and rattled as it rolled over rough pasture toward the movie set’s cow pen. About two dozen head of Brangus cattle lowed from inside. Hauling the trailer was a big Ford dually, a pickup with four wheels on the rear axle. George Strait’s River of Love floated out through the open windows of the battered truck. Three cowboys crowded onto the front seat. I recognized the driver of the white truck by his black hat.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Mace.’’ Maddie squinted at the truck, shading her eyes from the mid-morning sun. “Besides, I thought Jeb lost his ranch. How’d he even get this job?”

I shrugged. I didn’t trust my voice. The fact my stomach was in my throat would surely make the words come out funny. Plus, I didn’t want to get into a big discussion with my sister about Jeb, the first male to pluck out my heart and stomp on it. Even after all these years, I always ended up making excuses for him, which made me feel like a sap.

Marty smoothed her blond hair behind her ears. “I heard he’s been working hard to rebuild Bar J. He’ll probably do whatever he can to earn a few extra bucks.’’

“Humph!’’ Maddie snorted. “So he can squander them again, no doubt. What a loser.’’

“Remember Maddie, ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’’’

Mama was capable of chastising Maddie with a verse from Matthew, even as she reached over and rearranged my hair. Then she licked her finger and rubbed at my cheek. “I can’t tell if that’s dirt or manure, Mace. Either way, it’s not a good look.’’

I jerked away. “Like I care, Mama. This isn’t a fashion shoot. I’m working here.’’

“Humph!’’ Maddie glared in Jeb’s direction, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Oh, you care, sister. That’s the problem.’’

I shrugged again, in what I hoped was a carefree manner.

We were gathered at the corral. The crime scene investigators had finished, even removing the section of fence where we’d found Norman. The movie set’s carpenters hurriedly patched it with similarly weathered wood. Mama and my sisters came to help me feed and water the horses. We also worked on preparing saddles and other tack for an upcoming scene.

Mama hadn’t done much actual work, unless you count sitting on the fence and telling the rest of us how we were doing everything wrong.

At the corral, I’d filled them in on the details of Jeb’s late-night call, omitting the specifics of what I’d been doing in my bedroom just before the phone rang.

“What’d Carlos say?’’ Marty asked.

“Not a thing,’’ I said. “I ended up walking the phone out to my porch, but you know how small my cottage is. Jeb and I only talked for a few minutes, but I know Carlos heard every word on my end. When we rang off, I remember I called Jeb by name.’’

“You can be sure Carlos heard you. That man doesn’t miss a thing.’’ Clucking her tongue, Mama shook her head. “Too bad, too. It finally seemed like Carlos and you were becoming a real couple.’’

“Nothing happened, except Mace got a call from an old boyfriend,’’ Marty said. “Carlos won’t treat that like it’s the end of the world.’’

Maddie raised her eyebrows at our little sister. “Really? There’s already bad blood between Jeb and Carlos. Don’t you remember how they went round and round over Mace, the summer Mama found her corpse?’’

“That poor man in my convertible trunk had a name, girls. Please don’t call him my corpse.’’

When I told Mama and my sisters about the phone call, I didn’t add that when I finished talking to Jeb, Carlos was asleep. Or pretending he was. I tiptoed into the bathroom for a quick shower. When I finished, he was gone. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

Now, here was Jeb, climbing from the driver’s seat of his truck. We watched as he swung out a long, lean leg. One foot, in a worn Ariat boot, hit the ground. The other soon followed. When he stood up and adjusted those tight jeans over the long lines of his body, my traitorous heart skipped a beat. Dammit.

I heard a low whistle beside me. “Say what you will about the man. He still looks like sex on a stick.’’

“Mama!’’ The three of us gasped at once.

“I can’t help it, girls. I’m only stating the obvious.’’

A frown creased Maddie’s brow. “Just how close did he say the two of you would be working?’’

“Not that close. Once he delivers the cattle, I bet Jeb leaves his ranch hands behind to see to what the movie people need.’’

“Riiight,’’ Maddie said. “With Kelly Conover and Jesse Donahue here on the set …’’

“Not to mention the beautiful Mace Bauer …’’ Marty added.

“… still mooning over her long-ago affair with Jeb; star-crossed lovers since they were teenagers.’’ Maddie clasped a hand over her heart, or at least where her heart would be if she had one.

I didn’t want to give Maddie the satisfaction of looking, but my eyes defied my brain. A teenager no more, Jeb was all man as he unloaded his cows. Brangus, a mixture between Angus cattle and the heat-tolerant Brahman, were big and beefy. They looked nothing like the rangy half-wild creatures known as Florida Cracker cattle, which would have been true to the period of Patrick Smith’s book. Then again, not much about the movie seemed true to the book.

I could feel Maddie’s eyes on me as I watched Jeb. She took her hand from her heart to wag a finger. “Mark my words: That man will stick around, and that’ll mean trouble for you.’’

_____

Greg Tilton was on horseback out in the pasture, rehearsing for his scene. He hadn’t lied when he said he was experienced. His hand was easy on the reins, and he had a good seat on the Quarter horse we’d saddled for him.

He was cast as Toby’s father. The scene would have him racing at a gallop to the corral, where Toby would be waiting. Tilton was costumed in frontier garb, Florida cowman style: lace-up boots to keep out the snakes, a slouchy hat to repel the rain, and a braided leather cow whip coiled on his saddle.

Of course, he should have been riding a little Cracker horse, like in the book. But Tilton was a big, muscular guy. He’d dwarf such a small horse. Plus, the horse’s gait is like a pogo stick. Bouncing around the saddle like a little kid’s jack-in-the-box wouldn’t befit a movie hero.

Pulling up at the corral, he swung easily out of the saddle. Mama and my sisters were a distance away at the supply trailer, supposedly measuring out horse feed for the evening. But I saw them whispering and pointing. I hoped none of them asked Tilton for an autograph.

As everyone stood around waiting for lights, camera, and director to be ready, Tilton leaned against the rustic fence with the horse’s reins in one hand, his hat in the other. He looked posed: The Florida Cowhunter on the Open Range.

Suddenly, a warm breath of air on the back of my neck distracted me from stargazing. I caught the faintest scent of sweat and hay, with just a hint of cow manure. I knew exactly who was there.

“Boo!’’

My heart pitter-patted, dammit.

“Your cattle all settled?’’ I asked.

“Easy breezy,’’ Jeb answered. “How’d you know it was me?’’

“I’m psychic.’’

He came around to face me. “How about the horses? Any trouble?’’

“Not unless you count the body we found draped over their corral yesterday.’’

“Yeah, I heard about that. Guess somebody wanted to make sure he’d be seen.’’

“I wish they’d have done it someplace else. People are starting to think Mama and I are some kind of Grim Reapers.’’

“This is the second murder y’all have been mixed up in, right?’’

“I wouldn’t say we’re ‘mixed up’ in this one. We were just unlucky enough to stumble on the body. And it’s the fourth.’’

Jeb took a step backward and whistled. “Four? Now, you know I love being around you, Mace. But maybe you shouldn’t stand so close.’’

I’d have been offended, but his smile took any meanness out of the jibe. And what a smile it was: white teeth in a face tanned by hard work in the Florida outdoors; sunlight dancing in the golden flecks of his eyes. There went my heart again. It had a mind of its own, dammit.

“Hey, you’re the one who came over here to me.’’ I put my hand in the center of his chest and gave a gentle push. “I don’t recall issuing you an invitation to stand close.’’

He grasped my wrist, and pulled my hand tighter against his chest. I couldn’t help but notice the heat of his body, and how lean and hard the muscles felt beneath the snap buttons of his cowboy shirt. I remembered how easily those buttons popped open.

Jeb leaned toward me. His lips were inches from my ear, his breath hot against my cheek. “Since when do old friends like us need an invitation?’’

Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Mama and my sisters. The three of them scowled at me like Puritans preparing to pin on a scarlet letter. I turned, but not before I saw Maddie mouth You’re crazy. Mama shook her head at me. Marty bit her lip and looked worried.

As soon as I got the chance, I was going to tell them there was nothing to worry about. Yes, I was still physically attracted to Jeb. He was my first lover, and he was still flat-out gorgeous. But he was also more trouble than he was worth. And I was in love with Carlos. I’d never risk what I had with him for a quick roll in the hay.

“Back off, cowpoke.’’ I pushed him, hard enough to show I meant it this time.

Surprise played across his face. I was a little hurt I didn’t see disappointment there, too. I wanted him to give up on me, but not that easily.

“I thought we were friends.’’ His mouth drooped down at the corners.

“ ‘Friends’ being the operative word. I’m involved with someone, Jeb.’’

“That Spanish cop from Miamuh. Still?’’

“Yeah. His name’s Carlos. And he’s Cuban, though he speaks Spanish.’’

“It’s serious?’’

I thought that over for a moment. An image from last night came into my mind, of us spooned together in my bed. A warm feeling washed over me. Desire, yes, but contentment, too.

“Yeah,’’ I said, “we’re serious.’’

“Lucky guy.’’

“Lucky me. Which is why I’m trying hard not to screw things up,’’ I said. “I’ll ask you to respect that.’’

Jeb put up his hands. “I surrender. You’re the boss, and your wish is my command.’’

“Yeah, right.’’ We both laughed, falling into an easy familiarity. “So how come you’re still here? I thought for sure you’d deliver the stock and head back to the ranch. You still have that former prom queen at home, waiting on you to marry her?’’

He took off his hat; ran a hand through his dusty blond hair. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’m the marrying kind, Mace.’’

“No duh.’’

Avoiding my eyes, he glanced around at the assembled actors and extras, the camera operators and grips. My gaze followed his. Paul Watkins was deep in conversation with Toby, and Barbara was right beside the two of them. Tilton’s horse, still saddled, was inside the corral, though I didn’t see the action star. Jeb’s eyes continued roaming the set.

“Looking for somebody?’’

He grinned, a bit sheepish. The cowboy hat went back on his head. “I thought maybe Kelly Conover might be around.’’

“You’re a hound, you know that?’’

“I never claimed to be anything but,’’ he said.

Finally, a call went out across the set. “Settle, everybody!’’

High above us, a huge light on a crane powered on, washing the scene with brightness. A clipboard-carrying production assistant rushed toward me, speaking into the radio headset she wore. She stopped, and said to me, “They’re shooting Toby’s scene, where he’s waiting for his father at the corral. That horse with the saddle has to be moved out of there.’’

“No problem,’’ I said. “I’m on it.’’

As I started toward the corral, Jeb brushed my cheek with his lips. “For old time’s sake,’’ he whispered.

I kept walking. Maddie glared. Marty gnawed her lip. Mama crooked a finger and beckoned me toward them. I shook my head and continued toward the horse, grateful that at least Mama wasn’t yelling this time.

My fingers rose to my cheek. The spot Jeb kissed felt warm. Dammit.

I was almost to the gate of the corral when a loud boom sounded from above. In an instant, all hell broke loose. The horses spooked, racing in a panic around the small enclosure. People started screaming. Shadows seemed to be falling toward me from the sky. I heard Mama’s voice rise above the others: “Watch out, Mace!’’

I didn’t know whether to run or duck. The space around me suddenly got hot. Involuntarily, my eyes squeezed shut. An explosive force struck from one side, propelling me off my feet and into the air.

I coughed, gasping for breath. A suffocating weight crushed my body. When I opened my eyes, all I saw was dirt. My mouth was full of it. Had I already died and been buried in the earth? But then slowly, the smell of hay and sweat and a trace of manure reached my nose.

“Are you all right?’’

Jeb’s voice floated toward me from somewhere above. Maybe I wasn’t dead after all, since I suspected Jeb was unlikely to be upstairs with the angels. It took a moment to orient myself. The weight I felt holding me down was Jeb’s body on mine. The rodeo champion buckle on his belt dug into my right hip. I shifted slightly to look out over the ground. My head moved, which was a good sign. I saw three familiar pairs of shoes leading a pack of feet running toward me. Marty’s boots looked like doll shoes. Maddie’s were the same style, but bulldozer-sized. Mama sported sling-back sandals in raspberry patent leather.

Unless there was a shoe store in heaven peddling sherbet-colored footwear, I was still alive. Jeb rolled off me.

“Mace?’’ Jeb asked again.

“Yeah, I guess I’m okay,’’ I answered slowly. “What happened?’’

He sat up. Shaky, I stayed where I was, stretched out on the ground.

“That big light up there blew up.’’ He pointed skyward, to the crane above our heads.

I’d barely begun to comprehend what he said when the crowd of feet arrived. Marty led the way. “Oh, sister, I was so scared!’’

Mama was next. “Jeb, tell me my baby’s not hurt.’’

Maddie, panting, brought up the rear: “I predicted trouble for Mace the moment I saw him on this movie set.’’

“Hush!’’ Mama scolded her. “Jeb probably saved your sister’s life.’’

“I wouldn’t say that, ma’am.’’ Modestly, he ducked his chin and reached across the ground for his cowboy hat.

“Oh, yes you did,’’ Marty said. “You were just like the action hero in a movie, shielding Mace from harm.’’

“Hello?’’ I gave a weak wave. “Remember me?’’ I heard a murmur of voices in a growing crowd. Someone said, “The wrangler’s alive. Radio Barbara, and tell her there’ll be another delay.’’

Marty crouched beside me. “Of course we remember you! Look at these shards of glass all around you, Mace.’’

Pieces of the light, heat-blackened and jagged, littered the ground. The largest had fallen exactly where I’d been standing. I raised myself up to my elbows to get a better look. When I turned my head to the left, pain stabbed at my neck and right shoulder. I grabbed at it. “Ow!’’

Jeb put his hand on the ache, gently massaging. “I hit you like an offensive lineman. You’re really gonna hurt in the morning.’’

From my vantage point on the ground, I saw a highly polished pair of men’s loafers working their way through the crowd. I recognized them from last night, when they’d been lined up under my bed.

Just then, Jeb put an arm around my waist, pulling me to a standing position. My eyes traveled up from those loafers to dark gray dress slacks, to the badge buckled on the belt at Carlos’s waist. Still a little weak at the knees, I swayed. Jeb clutched at me, pressing me close against his side.

Carlos got to us just as Jeb tenderly picked a clod of dirt from my hair.

“You should have seen it, Carlos! Jeb was so brave.’’

As Mama’s words rushed out, a scowl worked its way across my boyfriend’s face.

“That light blew up and nearly killed her,’’ Maddie added. “Jeb knocked her clean out of the way. Good thing he’s used to mugging cattle.’’

Jeb tightened his embrace. Carlos’s frown deepened.

“You okay, Mace?’’ he asked.

Jeb spoke before I could answer. “She’s fine. I was in the right place at the right time.’’

“So it seems.’’

I tried to wriggle out of Jeb’s hold, but I didn’t have all my strength back. And, as Maddie had pointed out so flatteringly, Jeb is accomplished at roping and restraining reluctant heifers. He held on tight. The two men locked eyes. Carlos was the first to look away.

“I need to go find out what happened with that light.’’

“Wait …’’ I started to say.

“Your cowboy friend seems to have everything here under control.’’

“Carlos, stop …” My words bounced off his back as he turned and stalked away.

We stood silent until Mama spoke: “Well, he sure didn’t stay long.’’

Jeb shifted, but kept me in his hold. “Who put the burr under his saddle?’’

“You did, Jeb.’’ Maddie assumed her lecturing posture. “Have y’all ever heard of something called the savior complex? Well, Carlos has got it.’’

“He thinks he’s our Lord Jesus?’’ Mama gasped.

“No, because of events that happened in his past, he thinks he should be able to save everybody. Psychologically, he needs to feel like a protector. But he wasn’t here when Mace needed protection.’’

“Paging Sigmund Freud,’’ I said. “We’ve got an amateur trying to practice psychoanalysis.’’

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your knack for sarcasm,’’ Maddie said. “Criticize me all you want, but let me remind you: I studied psychology and human behavior in college while you were off communing in the forest with the plants and animals. Carlos may be mad at himself, but you’re the one he’ll end up punishing, Mace.’’

As Maddie’s words hung in the air, I glanced at Marty. Eyes glued to Carlos as he pushed his way through the crowd, she was working on her bottom lip like it was a hunk of taffy.

_____

Jeb was back with his cows; I was back to myself. And now I was angry. Had someone deliberately tried to hurt me? Was it personal? Or, was the light blowing up over the corral at just that moment a coincidence in a string of convenient coincidences? I intended to find out.

“Barbara, do you have a minute?’’

Norman Sydney’s ex-wife was stalking across the set, a can of Coke in one hand and an ice-pack in the other. She rolled her eyes and checked her wristwatch. “I’m on my way to see Toby. I have thirty seconds. What can I do for you?’’

Learn some manners, I thought. But I said, “You heard about the light this morning?’’

She nodded. “I wasn’t far away when it exploded. I saw for myself you weren’t seriously injured, as did many other witnesses.’’

“I’m not interested in suing you, Barbara. I want to know, do you think the light was sabotaged?’’

“What’s your name again?’’

I told her.

“Ah, yes. Somebody told me about you. You’re some kind of hillbilly detective, right?’’

“Guess so.’’ I didn’t bother correcting her about our dearth of hills.

“Well, Mace, the more salient question is whether this latest incident is linked to Norman’s murder. If so, it means someone wants to impact the movie, maybe even shut it down. Frankly, you’re not important enough to the film to be a target.’’

Was that supposed to make me feel better? “Well, who is?’’

“Lots of people. The actors, the director, me.’’

“You?’’

She shrugged. “I was Norman’s business partner. I control the money. And in Hollywood, like everywhere else on earth, everything comes down to money.’’ She looked at her watch. “Your thirty seconds are up, Marsha.’’

“Mace.’’

“Whatever.’’

As she started away, I said, “Just one more thing. If it was deliberate, who has a motive? Who’d want to shut you down?’’

She stopped, and slowly turned. Her eyes avoided mine. “I really don’t want to say.’’

“Look, this is important.’’

She glanced around, like she was checking for eavesdroppers. We were alone outside, about fifty feet from the production office trailer. After I'd convinced my sisters I was okay, they returned to town. Mama had disappeared somewhere. Sal was out on the road to the ranch with the cops and movie security people, fending off reporters and curious townsfolk. Carlos was talking to the electrical chief who supervises lighting and powering for the set.

“I’m the last person to gossip,’’ Barbara leaned toward me and whispered, “but Greg Tilton is unhappy with some of the cuts that have been made to his role. He made his feelings quite clear to Norman, and now to me. More importantly, I saw him skulking around this morning by the lighting equipment. What business did he have there?’’

She positioned her wristwatch under my nose. “Now, I’ve got to run. Time is money, Marsha.’’

Mace.

_____

Perks reflect an actor’s place on Hollywood’s totem pole. Lesser stars share trailers. Big ones relax in spacious luxury. Finding which trailer at base camp was Tilton’s didn’t take long, given my great powers of deduction. That, plus his name was above the red star on his door.

I climbed three metal steps to the door, and knocked.

“I’m rehearsing,’’ came a muffled voice from inside.

“It’s Mace, the animal wrangler.’’ I yelled through the door. “I’m the one who was nearly killed by that light this morning. This won’t take but a minute.’’

Footsteps echoed from inside. The door opened. Tilton was still in his period costume. I guess the wardrobe people figured the rougher and more rumpled his clothes looked, the more believable he was as a Florida frontiersman. Those famous blue eyes assessed me. It was surreal. I still struggled to get my mind around the fact I was standing face to face with the most famous action hero on the planet.

“I heard about the accident,’’ he said. “You okay?’’

I rolled my neck, lifted my shoulders. Winced. “I’ll live.’’

“Good to hear.’’ He stood back, motioning me inside.

The place looked like a high-end man cave. Black-out shades covered most of the windows. A glossy leather recliner was positioned in front of a big-screen TV. The black granite top of a coffee table gleamed. A fat script, a heavy rocks glass, and an expensive-looking bottle of Scotch, Glen-something, sat atop the table.

He nodded at the bottle. “Want a drink?’’

“I’ll pass on the Scotch, but some water would be great.’’

As he went to fetch a bottled water for me from the fridge, I checked out the living area. The room was neat, nearly devoid of human touches. No jacket was tossed over a chair. No open book rested on an arm of the sofa. The only thing out of place was a white coffee cup, which had been washed and set to dry on a dish drainer in a double sink.

Maybe all those years rotating through foster families had taught Tilton to never become too much at home.

My eyes were drawn to the one thing in the room that seemed personal: a display rack over a door that led to a small bedroom showed off a mounted, kid’s-style rifle. I pointed at it when Tilton returned.

“Is that little .22 rifle from a role?’’

“Nah, I’ve had that since I was a boy. It’s about the only link to my childhood that has good memories attached.’’

“How so?’’

He set a coaster on the black granite, placed the glass of iced water on that. Looking at the rifle, he smiled. “One of my first families, the foster dad was a good guy. Rural. Salt of the earth. He taught me to hunt, and he taught me about firearms.’’

My surprise must have shown on my face. He chuckled.

“Remember Charlton Heston? He was a president of the National Rifle Association. Our director, Paul Watkins, collects guns from all the movies he’s done. Not everyone in Hollywood is a Second Amendment-hating liberal.’’

“I didn’t think they were,’’ I lied.

“Right. Anyway, they gave me that old Winchester for Christmas. It was a hand-me-down from one of their ‘real’ kids, but it meant a lot to me.’’ He reached up, brushed a speck of dust from the barrel. “It still does.’’

I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought of Mama and my sisters, and the father I’d loved so much. I couldn’t imagine not having kin, a close family to call your own. Silence hung between us. He hadn’t taken a seat, so I didn’t either. Both of us were still standing.

My eyes shifted from the rifle to a series of promotional posters from his most famous roles. They filled the walls where family photos or paintings might be displayed.

I stepped closer to the wall to check out the Greg Tilton filmography.

“Pretty lame, huh?’’

“Hey, you’ve had a great career. I can see how you’d be proud.’’

He sat in his leather recliner. “Just so you know, someone in my publicist’s office had already hung them when I got to the set. It makes me feel like some kind of museum piece. Nothing like having a pictorial record of growing old, in 27x40-inch frames.”

Funny about perception: When Tilton looked at the posters, he saw himself aging. I saw him saving the world. I had to shake off that good-guy image if I was going to question him about what I’d come to find out. I circled back to stand in front of his chair.

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but did you have anything to do with that light blowing up this morning?’’

He cocked an eyebrow. “Man, you don’t waste any time, do you?’’

“Life’s short.’’

“What makes you think I’d have anything to do with that?’’

I weighed revealing what Barbara had told me. Why was I worried about protecting a woman who never asked how I was, who couldn’t even be bothered to get my name right?

“Barbara said she saw you hanging around the lighting gear.’’ I filled him in on what she claimed was a possible motive that he’d want the picture shut down.

When I’d finished, he smirked at me. “A highly reliable source, Barbara.’’

“What do you mean?’’

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, pointed the bottle toward the sofa next to his recliner. “Have a seat. You’re making me nervous.’’

I sat, stiffly. I was sure to have a bruise where Jeb knocked me down. Not taking my eyes off Tilton’s, I waited for him to answer.

“Listen, I’ve been in Hollywood a long time. I’m used to people lying about me, spreading gossip. I’m not surprised the same bullshit is happening here. But that’s all it is.’’ He took a swallow of the Scotch. “I’m completely happy with my role in this film. I wanted the part, and I wanted to work with the other actors they’ve hired.’’

“Even Toby?’’

“Especially Toby. He’s the next Leo DiCaprio.’’

I searched his face for evidence he was lying, or being sarcastic. I didn’t see it.

“Maybe you should ask Barbara what she was doing when she claimed she saw me.’’

“Barbara? What would she have to gain?’’

“She wanted out of this production almost from the start. It’s bleeding money, and she never believed there’d be an audience for the film once it’s finished. You know she and Norman were still in business together, right?’’

I nodded.

“Well, they fought like crazy about even taking on this project. Barbara would have had a good reason to see her ex-husband dead. Now that he is, she’d be a lot better off financially if this movie would just go away.’’

He drank again, his blue eyes beaming sincerity at me from above the rim of his glass.