Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery (11 page)

Read Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Online

Authors: Deborah Sharp

Tags: #mystery, #murder mystery, #fiction, #cozy, #amateur sleuth, #mystery novels, #murder, #regional fiction, #regional mystery, #Florida

A tiny forkful of
lemon meringue pie stalled on its way to Marty’s mouth. She stared over my shoulder. Maddie kicked me under the table. I leaned over to rub my shin.

“Is it Carlos? Did he come back?’’

Speechless for once, Maddie shook her head. Marty’s blue eyes were enormous. She lowered her fork and whispered a name like a prayer.

“Kelly Conover.’’

I’d rather it was Carlos. But he hadn’t returned to the tent. Moments after he stalked out, Jeb left, seemingly unaware of the trouble he’d caused with that casual arm around my shoulder. The irony was that Jeb’s Hollywood fantasy woman was now showing up at the dining area just after he’d managed to doom my relationship, and then disappear.

I turned in my seat. Sam had come in, too, glued to Kelly’s side. I waved. She smiled at me, and signaled with a
Wait-a-minute
finger. The two of them exchanged a few words, Sam’s dark head bent toward her golden one. Then he walked to the dessert table, while Kelly headed our way.

“Okay if Sam and I share your table?’’

Her demeanor was 100 percent movie star: breathy voice; twinkling eyes; dazzling smile. My sisters were still staring. I gestured for her to have a seat, as we scooted our chairs around to make room. Kelly was gracious as I made introductions. She struck me as a bit fake, the head cheerleader being sweet to the unpopular girls in the cafeteria. My sisters either didn’t notice, or they didn’t care.

“I’m a big fan,’’ Maddie finally managed to choke out.

Kelly gushed her thanks, like it was the first time she’d ever heard such an original compliment.

My little sister simply sat there with a goofy grin on her face. When Kelly said, “You have such beautiful eyes, Marty,’’ she blushed like the captain of the football team had just asked her to go steady.

Then the star then turned to me. “I owe you an apology.’’

“Don’t worry about it.’’

“No, Greg and I acted like spoiled children with those raccoons today. That man always manages to bring out the worst in me. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?’’

You could have tumbled me over with a tickseed flower. As she searched my face with those big green eyes, I managed to sputter out something like, “S’fine.’’ I felt my mouth shifting into a smile, probably just as goofy-looking as Marty’s.

Sam’s arrival at the table, bearing a brownie cut in half, saved me from saying or doing anything more embarrassing. I hadn’t technically met him, so Kelly performed introductions all around. I took the time to try to regain my composure. I had to forget she was a Hollywood movie queen, and treat her like I’d treat anyone else. Anyone else, I’d flat-out ask what I wanted to know.

“Something has been bothering me since the day Mama and I found Norman’s body,’’ I said. “Sam told you, ‘It’s over now. He can’t hurt you anymore.’ What did that mean? How had Norman hurt you?’’

The two of them exchanged a long look. Finally, Kelly seemed to come to a decision. She touched her friend’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Sam. I want to talk about this. Now that Norman’s dead, everyone’s saying how he wasn’t that bad. I can’t stand to hear such a lie. He was a lowdown bastard.’’

She looked at my sisters and me. “You want to hear how low?’’

Kelly confirmed what Savannah had hinted, pouring out her heart about how Norman raped her when she was starting out in the movie business.

“He said I should come to a dinner party at his house so we could talk about a part he had for me. I should have known something was off when I got there. All the other guests were men.’’

Tears pooled in her green eyes.

“How old were you?’’ Marty’s voice was soft.

“I’d just turned sixteen.’’

Beside me, Maddie inhaled sharply. Sam held tight to one of Kelly’s hands; Marty patted the other. Kelly went on, sketching out the details—how she’d taken such care with what to wear; how her dress was ripped and stained afterward; how her own mother had forbidden her to go to the police.

“She said we wanted to keep Norman on our side. He could make my career.’’

We were transfixed. It was like watching a movie, only Kelly was right here and real. Sam’s face was etched in reflected pain. Finally, Kelly’s torrent of words slowed, and then stopped. She sniffled. Sam whipped a tissue from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

“So, Mace, that’s how he hurt me, and that’s why I hated him.’’ She delicately blew her nose. “I consider his murder a blessing from God, but I didn’t have anything to do with it. That’s what you suspected, isn’t it?’’

I studied my hands, folded on the tabletop in front of me.

“Of course she didn’t,’’ Marty quickly said.

Kelly was staring at me when I raised my eyes. Sam was, too.

“I’m sorry,’’ I said. “I didn’t know the whole story. All I saw was you spitting on the ground and damning his soul.’’

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m part Roma … gypsy, you’d call it. Plus, I’m an actress. So I’m a drama queen
and
I’m hot-blooded.’’

Everybody chuckled. Even if the laughter was more forced than genuine, it let me off the hook. I felt sorry for Kelly. Her story was heartrending. But that didn’t mean I didn’t still suspect her. If anything, what she’d just revealed gave her a compelling motive for murder.

Breaking off a tiny nibble of the half-brownie Sam brought, Kelly announced they needed to leave. Maddie at least waited until they were halfway to the door before she helped herself to the leftover sweet.

“Normally I don’t approve of cursing, but Kelly was right when she called that awful man a bastard. Sam seems nice, though.’’ She popped the brownie into her mouth.

“I wonder if my boss, Rhonda, would like him?’’ I looked across the table at Marty. “What do you think, sister? Ohmigod, don’t tell me I’m becoming a matchmaker, like Mama!’’

Marty’s gaze followed the movie star and her friend, making their way to the exit. “Your boss might be smart and beautiful, Mace, but that wouldn’t matter to Sam. He’s already in love, with Kelly.’’

“Well, it’s not reciprocated,’’ I said, recalling the conversation between Kelly and Tilton.

“Doesn’t matter,’’ Maddie said. “There’s no passion like unrequited love. Sam would go to any lengths to make Kelly care for him like he cares for her.’’

As Maddie’s words echoed in my head, I remembered how Kelly’s pain showed on Sam’s face. How he worried when she was hungry. How he was ready with a shoulder or a tissue when she cried.

How far
would
he go to make all Kelly’s problems go away?

_____

“Maddie, please get your fork out of my dessert plate. I’m still eating.’’ Marty pulled her pie closer to her body, shielding it like a prison inmate with the crook of her left elbow.

We’d extended lunch, waiting for the storm to play itself out. I listened to the last drops of rain drizzling down on the roof of the tent. Suddenly, Sal stomped in through a side entry. It looked like all the day’s dark clouds had found their way onto his face.

Mama ran to keep up, trailing him in full costume as Ruby. She wore a towering red wig. Her red satin dress featured a big skirt and a breathtakingly tight bodice. A cameo pendant was cradled in the deep crevice of her cleavage.

“Don’t you want me to be happy, Sally?’’ Catching up, she tugged at his wrist. He didn’t answer, just shook her off like an elephant evicting a gnat.

Mama’s voice cracked. “Sally, please don’t be mad at me. I can’t take it.’’ Her eyes glistened with tears.

Sal stopped. He turned toward his trembling bride. At our table, Maddie made the sign of a fishing pole, reeling him in.

“Snagged like a speckled perch,’’ I agreed.

“Hush, they’ll hear you,’’ Marty warned.

“Look at that,’’ Maddie said. “Mama even looks pretty when she cries. If that was me, my eyes would be all puffy and as red as her dress.’’

“Ruby’s dress,’’ I said. “But I know what you mean. My nose would be dripping like a snot faucet by now. And I’d look like Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa’s sleigh.’’

I pushed back my chair. “I’m getting some more coffee. Anyone want anything?’’

Marty shook her head. Maddie said, “Bring me one of those big muffins with the cinnamon crust on top, would you?’’

She caught the glance I stole at her plate. A single smear of meringue and just one crumb from Kelly’s brownie remained.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take the muffin home and save it for breakfast.’’

“Sure you will.’’

“No bickering, you two,’’ Marty said. “I’m trying to eavesdrop on Sal and Mama.’’

I had less interest in that endeavor than Marty did. I’d seen the Sal and Rosalee Show, and this was yet another rerun. I made my way to the serving area.

I loaded Maddie’s muffin on a tray, and was at the condiment table, adding sugar and cream to my coffee, when I glanced to the side of the tent. The show was still in progress. Sal had enfolded Mama in a big bear hug. He was now comforting
her.
Sniffling, she snuggled into his protective embrace
.
I imagined a critic’s summation of this familiar, two-character play.

Outcome: predictable. Ending: clichéd. Plot: visible from a mile away.

As my gaze lingered on Sal and Mama, I became aware of the sound of someone beside me, breathing. I jumped. It was Barbara.

“You scared me,’’ I said. “Where’d you come from?’’

Her eyes didn’t leave Sal and Mama. “I want you to deliver a message,’’ she said. “Tell your floozy of a mother that Paul Watkins is my man, and I’m not fond of sharing.’’

“Really?’’ I said. “I wonder what Paul’s wife, Savannah, would say about that?’’

“Why don’t you ask her? She’ll tell you somebody could get hurt crossing Barbara Sydney.’’

With that, Barbara grabbed a long, serrated knife from the dessert table. She poked at the muffin I’d chosen for Maddie, flipping it onto its side. Then she cleanly sliced off the cinnamon crumb top, and dropped the decapitated pastry on the floor at my feet.

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.

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