Текст книги "Mama Sees Stars"

Автор книги: Deborah Sharp

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

I had a gentle Quarter horse saddled and ready. The horse stomped a foot, shivered, and shook all over. Jesse backpedaled so fast her boots kicked up splatters of mud in the corral.

“Is it angry?’’

“Only at that horsefly.’’ I waved a hand to shoo the insect. “That’s what horses do when they’re trying to stop it from stinging.’’

“Does it mind if I get on?’’

“His name’s Zeke; and honestly, he’ll pay less mind to you climbing on his back than he does to that horsefly.’’

She took a few tentative steps in Zeke’s direction. Her eyes traveled from the ground up to the saddle. “I’m not sure I can do it.’’

“All that working out you do at the gym? You should be able to haul yourself up onto his back with no problem.’’ I demonstrated. “See? You always mount from the left. Foot in the stirrup. Hand on the horn. Then swing your right leg over his rump. It’s kind of like getting on a motorcycle.’’

“Motorcycles don’t bite.’’

“Neither will Zeke. He’s very well trained.’’ I swung down out of the saddle again, and stood on the ground. “Your turn.’’

She backed up. “I have to confess something, Mace. This is the closest I’ve ever been to a real, live horse.’’

Her voice was small, scared. All her swagger was gone. It was the first time Jesse had seemed vulnerable. Human.

“I really needed this role, so I lied about being a good rider to get it. I should have been practicing, but every time I got near a horse, I chickened out. They’re so big.’’

Her voice shook, like she might start crying. I actually felt sorry for her. “Don’t worry,’’ I told her. “I’m right here, and we’ll take it slow.”

“I really appreciate you agreeing to do this, Mace. I know you don’t approve of me.’’

“Don’t mention it.’’ I waved a hand, purposely ignoring the approval part. “I just want to make sure nobody gets hurt around the horses.’’

I clutched Zeke’s reins, extending my other hand to Jesse. She inched toward me, and I gently took her wrist. “You put your hand out flat, palm down, and let him sniff at the back.’’ I turned her hand over. “That’s how he gets to know you.’’

After she let Zeke get her smell, I guided her hand all along the horse’s neck, down to the chest. “Don’t pat. Stroke. And give him a good scratch there, in the middle of his chest. He can’t reach that spot, so he’ll appreciate it.’’

By the time we’d worked our way all the way back to his rump, under his belly, and up his neck again, Zeke was totally relaxed. Jesse was getting there. I had her ball her fist and gently stroke his muzzle. “See how soft that nose is? Like velvet,’’ I said. “Now, feel those stubbly whiskers.’’

A smile spread across her face. The horse rubbed his head against her chest. “See? He likes you,’’ I said. “Which figures, since Zeke is a male.’’

Jesse’s face went pink. “I know my reputation. It’s not fair. Guys who hook up with a lot of girls are studs. If a girl does the exact same thing, everyone calls her a slut.’’

“Yeah, well welcome to the world, Jesse. Life’s not fair.’’

“You can say that again.’’

When she was ready, I helped her into the saddle. “You’re going to do great. We won’t go far; and you and Zeke are already old friends.’’

I adjusted her stirrups, and then handed her the reins. “Don’t hold them too tight, but don’t let them drop, either. We’ll ride out together, and I’ll show you what I mean.’’

I mounted one of the other horses, and we set off at a slow walk. Jesse watched closely, mimicking everything I did. Now that she was more comfortable with the horse, she was a fast learner.

“You can talk to him, you know. Lean over and give him a scratch now and then.’’

She ran a hand along his neck, under the mane. “You’re a good horse, Zeke.’’ At just that moment, he bobbed his head up and down. Jesse’s laugh was pure girlish delight. “Look, he agrees with me!’’

We rode for a short distance on a rutted path through open pasture, until we came to a fork that led to a hardwood hammock. “Those big trees are so pretty,’’ Jesse said. “Is it safe to ride through there?’’

“Sure, that bit of woods runs between the base camp and the parking lot.’’ I turned my horse toward the fork, and Jesse followed. The tree-shaded path was wide enough for us to ride two abreast. “That’s a live oak,’’ I pointed toward an ancient specimen, weeping with Spanish moss. “See how its branches grow almost sideways like that? It’s like they’re reaching out to touch all of nature around them.’’

“Cool,’’ she said. “I can see that. The limbs are spread out almost as wide as the tree is tall.’’

I pointed out a couple more things—ground the wild hogs had torn up, digging for roots and bugs with their snouts; a hawk soaring on an air current in a now-clear sky. Mostly, we kept a companionable silence, with me offering words of encouragement or gentle correction. Jesse’s horseback scene was scheduled to be filmed in two more days. That wasn’t much time to bring her skill level to where it needed to be. But I decided not to mention my misgivings to her.

“Is Toby a good rider?’’ I asked.

She shrugged. “Not as good as Greg Tilton, but I think he’s okay.’’

After all the rain, the sky was a washed out blue. Afternoon sun filtered through the trees that grew close to the path, warming my back. Leather creaked. The horses snuffled. A woodpecker drummed against the bark of a slash pine. It was as good a time as any to bring up the subject I wanted to raise with Jesse.

“You know, Toby really seems to like you.’’

She stared at the horn of her saddle, tracing a circle on the top with her thumb.

“Do you like him?’’ I asked.

She nodded, but didn’t raise her eyes to meet mine. “I’m not ready to settle down, though. I just turned twenty-one. Toby’s even younger. I don’t even know who I am yet. I don’t want to be half of some ridiculous Hollywood couple: Jesby. Tobee. J-To. I’m my own person, you know.’’

I watched her, hoping she’d raise her head so I could read her expression. That’s when I noticed Zeke’s ears prick forward. Seconds later, I heard the sound, too. Something loud crashed toward us through the woods. Zeke startled, sidestepping quickly away from the noise. Jesse, clutching the saddle’s horn like a life preserver, shrieked in fear.

“Stay calm,’’ I said quietly. “Just hold on to Zeke’s reins and run your hand along his neck. He just hears something, is all. You reassure him. You’re both okay.’’

Jesse did as I told her, and the horse was fine. But the noise kept coming our way. We both peered into the trees. “What is it, Mace? Are there grizzly bears here?’’

A moment later, Toby stumbled onto the sandy path ahead of us. Blood covered his face. His clothes were dirty and torn. Silently, he reached a hand in our direction, and then collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Toby struggled to stand. He staggered, and fell again.

I swung down from my saddle. Jesse leapt straight off Zeke, leaving the horse’s reins hanging. She’d barely hit the ground before she started running to Toby. I grabbed the reins of both horses and followed.

Toby had managed to hoist himself to a sitting position. He watched, looking dazed, as we approached. He was filthy. Leaves clung to his hair, normally so flawless. Scratches crisscrossed his face. Dirt streaked the back of his torn shirt. Both knees of his jeans were stained.

“Someone tried to run me down in the parking lot.’’ He put a hand to his head, and it came away red with blood. “I think I’m hurt.’’

Jesse performed a quick check, peering into his hair to see the source of the oozing blood. She looked up at me. “Scalp wound …”

“It hurts, Jess …”

“… bloody, but not deep.’’

She studied his pupils, checking for brain injury or shock. Lifting the torn shirt gently off his body, she surveyed his bare chest and back for evidence of other wounds. Toby’s voice was weak, but he kept talking:

“I was running away, but I tripped and fell. When I felt the asphalt, I kept rolling. I came to a stop in a muddy ditch.’’ He gingerly fingered his bloodied hair. “I think I smacked my head on a rock.’’

“So the car didn’t hit you?’’ she asked.

He shook his head, wincing in pain.

“Can you stand up?’’ I asked him. “We’ll get you up on one of the horses and take you to the medical trailer.’’

Still holding both sets of reins in one hand, I extended the other to Toby. Jesse did the same. Together, we pulled him to his feet.

“Can you walk?’’ she asked.

He tested his weight on one leg, and then the other. He grimaced. “I must have hurt the same knee that got smacked at the bar.’’

She leaned down to feel for swelling. “How bad’s the pain, scale of one to five?”

“Two, maybe,’’ he said.

“You’ll probably live.’’ Jesse grinned at him. “But I think we should get you to the medic, just to be safe.’’

“I don’t want to live if I can’t have you.’’

Her forehead wrinkled. “Very funny, Toby. What film is that line from?’’

“It’s not from a movie. I mean it. You realize what’s important when you’re hiding in a ditch, wondering if somebody’s going to make a U-turn and come back to try and kill you.’’ He stroked her cheek. “I love you, Jess. I want us to be a couple, for real.’’

Jesse cut her eyes toward me. I pretended to be studying the ground.

“No response?’’ Toby searched her face, looking for an answer he didn’t seem to find.

It was so quiet, I could hear the horses swishing their tails. Still, he stared at her. I coughed quietly, and then cleared my throat. I wanted to ask another question. “Did you see what kind of car it was?’’

He couldn’t tear his eyes from Jesse, even though she gazed indifferently into the trees.

“The car?’’ I prodded.

Finally, he looked at me. “It was white, or at least light in color.’’ His voice was thick with hurt. I was pretty sure it wasn’t from the physical injuries. “I’m not sure what kind. It might even have been a truck, or a van. It happened so fast.’’

“What about the driver?’’

“Big hat. Sun was glinting off the windshield. I couldn’t tell who was behind the wheel. Sorry.’’

So the vehicle was possibly white, like half the movie company’s rental fleet. And the driver might have been a man; or maybe a woman. He, or possibly she, was young … or maybe old. Carlos was going to love getting this report.

We were about to help Toby onto my horse to take him to the medical trailer when we heard another crash in the brush. It was followed by a string of curses. Barbara emerged, yanking spider webs from her face.

“There you are, Toby!’’ Her tone was scolding, until she seemed to register that her star client was bruised and bloodied and leaning on Jesse.

“Ohmigod, what happened?’’ She rushed to push Jesse out of the way.

“I’ve got him, Barbara,’’ Jesse said. “He had an accident. It doesn’t look serious.’’

“An accident?’’ She cupped Toby’s face, looking into his eyes. She touched the blood staining his brow. “My poor baby!’’

He tried to jerk his head away. “Somebody tried to run over me in the parking lot. Don’t worry. I survived. Your fifteen percent is safe.’’

Barbara dropped her hand from his face like she’d touched a hot stove. She looked stunned, crushed by his cruel words. Then again, she had been an actress way back when.

“You didn’t happen to see anything, did you?’’ I asked her.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?’’

I shrugged. “Nothing. Just that Toby didn’t see who almost hit him. Maybe you noticed somebody burning rubber out of the parking lot.’’

“I was nowhere near there. I was in Toby’s trailer, waiting for him, until one of the production assistants told me Toby was headed into town. I was on my way to check to see if his car was gone, when I got lost trying to take the shortcut to the parking lot.’’

I was going to follow up, try to find out how Barbara came to be around each of the locations where someone had been hurt, when a shout sounded from the trail: “Hey, is Sam with you guys? We were supposed to go to dinner, but he stood me up. I can’t find him anywhere.’’

Kelly Conover stood in the path, shading her eyes and looking in our direction. When I answered that we hadn’t seen Sam, she hurried on her way toward the parking area. Not even a backward glance. How typical. She didn’t notice Toby’s disheveled state; it didn’t directly concern her.

I helped Jesse onto Zeke, and then got on my horse, so Toby could ride double behind me. Helping to pull him up, it occurred to me Toby moved pretty well for someone who’d just taken a bad tumble into a ditch.

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, Toby,’’ Barbara called out as we left.

“Don’t bother.’’ He didn’t even look at his manager. He hooked his hands around my waist. “Okay if I hang on like this, Mace? I’m not hitting on you or anything.’’

“If you were, cowboy, it’d be the most exciting thing to happen to me all year.’’

Toby chuckled, which I took as an encouraging sign that his injuries weren’t too bad. As we rode off toward the trailer, Toby bouncing a bit behind the saddle, two questions ran through my head.

What would make Sam miss the chance to take Kelly to dinner? And why did Barbara emerge from the woods near the parking area, if she’d been in Toby’s trailer on the opposite side of the set?

“Look, everybody! There she is … Hollywood’s newest star.’’

My cousin Henry rose from our table at Gladys’ Diner and lifted his voice over the breakfast din. Mama paused at the door to make a proper entrance. Preening, she fluffed her hair, smoothed her lemon yellow pantsuit, and took the measure of the room.

Once she was sure all eyes were on her, she made the rounds, bestowing cheek kisses and beauty-queen waves to the customers. Henry whistled as she did a red-carpet amble along the counter.

Sitting with my sisters, I muttered, “Don’t encourage her, Henry. She’s just one air kiss away from Hollywood Diva as it is.’’

“Amen,’’ Maddie said.

“Oh, let your mama have her fifteen minutes, girls. It won’t kill you.’’

Sitting back down, Henry stole a biscuit from Maddie’s plate. Despite the poke she gave his hand with her fork, Henry polished off the biscuit in two bites. Then he grabbed another one from Marty’s plate. She glared. “Just because you came in late doesn’t mean you get to eat our food, Henry.’’

“Jeez, Marty!’’ he said. “Since when did you start suffering from PMS?’’

When Henry zeroed in on my plate, I raised my steak knife at him: “Don’t even think about it.’’

Gladys’ restaurant had done a makeover, replacing the wagon-wheel hanging lamps and gingham tablecloths with soft lighting and tasteful landscapes. There was some grumbling at first, as Himmarshee doesn’t take well to change. But the grub was still good, and people were getting used to the new look.

Mama sidled up to the table just as Charlene, the waitress, got there with a coffee pot and Henry’s breakfast order, the Hungry Hog. “I guess I’ll have to get your autograph, Rosalee. I hear you’re going to be in the movie.’’

“It’s just a small part, Charlene.’’ Mama lowered her eyes, signaling modesty. “But it’s absolutely crucial to the plot. Or so my director tells me. That’s Paul Watkins. He’s the one who noticed I had a certain star quality.’’

I mentally amended that to false modesty.

She said, “Let me just borrow your pen and pad, honey, and I’ll give you my John Hancock.’’

Charlene refilled our cups, then put her coffee carafe on the table and handed Mama a blank sheet from her pad. As Mama worked out her new movie star signature—“Do you girls think I should put a star right here, between Rosalee and Provenza?’’—Charlene pulled up a seat.

“I hear you’re teaching Jesse Donahue how to ride, Mace.’’

“How’d you hear that, Charlene?’’ I glared at Mama, the teller of secrets.

Shrugging off my question, the waitress babbled on excitedly, “I’ve been watching her ever since she was a little girl. Why, I’ve seen her grow up on screen. What’s Jesse really like? Has she slept with as many men as they say? Is it true she’s on heroin?’’

Mama started to give her version of the real Jesse, but I cut her off. “She’s not a drug addict so far as I can tell. I think people have the wrong idea about Jesse.’’

Maddie snorted.

“What does that mean?’’ I asked.

“I don’t like her,’’ Maddie said. “Making a spectacle of herself the way she does? If she was my daughter, her hide would be double-tanned by now.’’

Henry slathered butter on a biscuit from his own plate, finally. “Forget about Jesse,’’ he said. “What’s the story with Kelly Conover? Now, there’s a woman! Is she nice? Is she as pretty in person as in the movies?’’

Marty sighed. “She’s beautiful, even more so than she looks on screen. Tiny, too. She’s hardly any bigger than me.’’

“I wonder if that’s what people will say about me, once my movie comes out.” Pausing mid-autograph, Mama’s face took on a dreamy look.

“Well, Kelly’s not tiny everywhere,’’ Maddie sipped her coffee, “thanks to the miracle of silicone and a skilled plastic surgeon.’’

Marty looked over each shoulder, a guilty look on her face. “Keep it down, Maddie. That’s mean, and people may hear you.’’

“Kelly’s fake bosom isn’t exactly a secret.’’ Maddie said. “The scandal sheets have even run before and after pictures. Besides, her boobies look like two jumbo honeydews balanced on a plank of plywood. You are such an innocent, Marty.’’

Charlene took Marty’s scowl as her exit cue. Mama stood up and called after her, “You forgot to take my autograph, honey … Well, okay, I’ll leave it with your tip.’’

Marty said, “You know, I get really tired of y’all treating me like a child …’’

“Don’t blame me! I didn’t say a word,’’ I said.

Maddie snickered. “C’mon, Marty … only a moron would think those ‘girls’ of Kelly’s are real.’’

“Well, they look real enough to me,’’ Henry said.

“See my point?’’ Maddie sat back, arms folded.

Marty pressed her lips together and glared at our big sister.

Mama examined her profile in the mirror behind the counter. “I wonder if I should think about plastic surgery, girls. It’s quite common in Hollywood. And speaking of Hollywood, I see some folks in the corner I didn’t get the chance to talk to about my movie.’’

Waving, she traipsed off to another round of My Life on the D List, Himmarshee style.

Henry smacked his lips and closed his eyes. “I had a poster of Kelly in a crocheted bikini taped to my bedroom ceiling. I spent many happy hours dreaming of the day she’d be my bride.’’

“Dreaming, right,’’ I said.

“Bride, right,’’ Maddie added.

We both looked at Marty, but she didn’t chime in to rag on our cousin.

“Maybe y’all will think I’m a moron for saying this, but all you ever do is pick fights,’’ Marty said. “As for you, Henry, while you’re so busy drooling over Kelly, you might not have heard a crazed murderer is loose on the movie set. Mace already had a close call. And now someone tried to run over Toby Wyle. Anyone could be next. Y’all seem like you don’t even care.’’

“Calm down, Marty. You’re not acting like yourself,’’ I said.

“Don’t tell me how to act, Mace. Maddie always criticizes, and you always tell people what to do. Maybe all three of you should be spending more time thinking about who’s responsible and how to stop them.’’

With that, Marty grabbed Henry’s second biscuit right out of his hand. She took two big bites, tossed it back on his plate, and stalked out of the diner.

All of us stared as the door of Gladys’ slammed shut. Even Henry stopped eating long enough to watch, open-mouthed, through the plate glass window as Marty marched stiffly down the sidewalk.

“And here I thought Maddie kept the whole family’s supply of sticks up her butt. What’s gotten into your little sister, girls?’’

“I guess we’re all a little tense.’’ I turned my attention to my cousin. “Seeing a body hung up like the Monday wash will do that to people.’’

“That, and watching your sister narrowly escape death from the razor-sharp pieces of an exploding light,’’ Maddie added.

Henry motioned with his coffee cup toward Mama. Still making the rounds, she’d just stuck a fork into a neighbor’s plate for a sample of egg and sausage scramble. “Your mama seems to be handling the stress pretty well.’’

“She might tell you she’s just playing a part, Henry, now that she’s Himmarshee’s own Kelly Conover,’’ I said.

Just then, the cowbells jangled on the diner’s door. “Speak of the devil,’’ Maddie whispered.

“Oh my god,’’ Henry breathed.

“Looks like the alarm clock just rang on Mama’s fifteen minutes of fame,’’ I said.

As the diners became aware of who had just made an entrance, whispers spread like ripples in a pond. One of the waitresses dropped a plate of ham and red-eye gravy. Then, complete silence descended. The cashier stopped in the middle of ringing up a check, hand hovering over the keys on the cash register. The fry cook left the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron and smoothing his balding head. One of the younger patrons fumbled for her cell phone and started snapping pictures. An older diner, the wife of the Rotary club president, slapped her hand.

“Put that camera phone down, Brianna! Miss Conover has a right to privacy. Who do you think you are? One of those smart alecks from TMZ?’’

Maddie put her hand to her mouth and whispered, “And who do you think has the Hollywood gossip page at TMZ.com bookmarked on her computer? Mrs. Rotary herself.’’

Kelly’s eyes met mine, and I waved her over. Henry, meanwhile, still hadn’t uttered a word. He took the napkin out of his collar, straightened his tie, and unrolled the cuffs on his light gray dress shirt. As the movie star approached, he nearly knocked over his own chair as he leapt to pull out one for her.

After everyone was settled, and Henry had mopped the drool from his chin, Kelly asked what I knew about Toby’s close call in the parking lot.

“Jesse and I had just found him, shortly before you came walking along the path,’’ I said. “He stumbled out of the woods right where we were riding.’’

“How convenient,’’ Kelly said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?’’ Henry’s sharp, defense-attorney self was warring with his bedazzled male adolescent, because he immediately grinned and added, “I’m Henry, by the way. I’m a lawyer, so I’m used to asking questions. I don’t mean any offense, Miss Conover.’’

“Call me Kelly.’’ As she turned those money-green eyes on him, Henry melted.

“Okay, then: Kelly. I’m a big fan.’’

“You’re a big something,’’ Maddie harrumphed.

“Anyway …” Kelly said, “I just think it’s weird Toby got hurt, and then managed to get to the exact spot where you and his little girlfriend would find him.’’

“Maybe not so much weird as lucky,’’ I said. “He needed to be checked out, and we were able to do that, and then get him to the medic.’’

“But his injuries weren’t serious, right?’’

“He was pretty banged up.’’

I was feeling strangely protective of the teen star. Maybe it was because I had watched Jesse rip out his heart and stomp on it. That had to hurt as much as his injuries from the parking lot incident.

Kelly persisted, “But it wasn’t anything life-threatening.’’

I nodded, “Right.’’

“Whose idea was it to go riding?’’ she asked.

I knew Jesse and I had talked about how I didn’t want anyone hurt with the horses, but I couldn’t actually remember whether she’d asked or I’d offered to give her a horseback lesson.

I shrugged.

“Well, who wanted to ride through that particular stretch of woods?’’

I got a quick flash of Jesse admiring the woodsy hammock. Is it safe to ride through there?

I must have had a funny look on my face, because Kelly said: “I knew it! It was Jesse’s idea!’’

“So?’’

“Mace is right,’’ Maddie said. “Why should that make a difference?’’

It was Kelly’s turn to shrug. “I’m not sure. When you’ve been in Hollywood as long as I have, you always question what’s made out to be the truth.’’

Chin on his hands, Henry’s face was moony. “Kelly, you don’t look a day older than when you starred in the Teenaged Detective.” Had he heard a word of what we’d been saying?

“Thanks,’’ Kelly said, “but that was a lifetime ago. I’ve learned over time not to trust public images, and I don’t for a minute buy that clean-cut Disney-star crap surrounding Toby Wyle.’’

I thought back to him strutting out of Jesse’s trailer, zipper undone, that first day Mama and I saw him on the set. Definitely not Disney. What about Jesse? Was she playing me? I wasn’t going to share my thoughts with Kelly, though. She might be the one fooling all of us.

“So, are you suggesting Toby or Jesse may have something to gain by making Toby appear to be a victim?’’ Courtroom Henry was back, thank goodness.

“I think one or both of them had something to do with the murder. They’re trying to confuse everyone by diverting suspicion away from Toby.’’

Kelly turned those eyes on him, like deep green pools in an enchanted forest. Horny Adolescent Henry looked like he wanted to jump in for a swim.

“I don’t buy it.’’ Maddie reverted to her usual role, skeptical principal. “What’s Toby’s motive? His manager is Barbara Sydney. She’s also the ex-wife and was the current business partner of Norman, the murder victim. Toby was reportedly golden with both of them. Why would he risk that? What would he have to gain?’’

Mama had crept up to the table again, and was listening. Unnaturally quiet, she seemed aware her audience was now transfixed on a much bigger star. “I’ll tell you what Toby had to gain. Publicity,’’ she finally said. “We actors breathe it like oxygen. Isn’t that right, Kelly?’’

“I’m sorry. Have we met?’’

Kelly’s voice was cool, all Hollywood superiority. Mama’s cheeks pinked. For a moment, I thought it served her right, but then I felt sorry for her.

“That’s my mama, Rosalee,’’ I reminded Kelly, a little sharply. “She’s playing Ruby, the prostitute.’’

“Dancehall girl.’’ Mama smoothed her coiffure.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Rosalee. Of course! It’s nice to see you again.’’

Mama’s face glowed, even though everyone else at the table could tell Kelly was only being polite.

“That’s a good point you make about publicity, Rosalee. But Toby and Jesse have more publicity than they can handle right now. Negative publicity. What are the tabloids calling them? To-se? Jes-to?’’

Mrs. Rotary President leaned in from the next table. “Jeby.’’

Kelly dipped her head slightly, like a queen recognizing a loyal subject. Then she continued, “Anyway, the same thing about publicity doesn’t hold true with …’’

As her words trailed off, she studied the hands she folded on the tabletop.

“Publicity with what?’’ I asked.

She lowered her voice. “Who not what, and I don’t want to say. We go way back.’’

“Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone,’’ Henry said. “I’m used to respecting lawyer-client confidentiality.’’

What Henry didn’t say was: if you’re not a client, watch out. There’s not a more enthusiastic participant in the Himmarshee Gossip Hotline than Henry Bauer, Esq.

Kelly glanced around the café. All the diners suddenly seemed fascinated by their food. Forks scraped plates. Spoons clinked against coffee cups. Conversations resumed. No one wanted to look like a nosy rube. She leaned in close. We did, too.

“Greg Tilton.’’ She whispered his name. “He needs publicity, bad. The tabs don’t even bother following him around anymore. He needs a big picture.’’

Maddie said, “This picture seems pretty big.’’

Kelly regarded her hands again. Finally, she raised those green, liquid eyes to her audience.

“Yes, it is. And Norm Sydney was hacking Greg’s role to bits so Toby could emerge as the new big star of this very big film.’’