Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery (21 page)

The music throbbed. The
sound of cowboy boots pounding the wooden floor in time to the Charlie Daniels Band hurt my head. I took another long swallow from the Budweiser in front of me. The Eight Seconds Bar was offering a bucket of beer, five bottles for five bucks. I was getting my money’s worth.

Toby Wyle was on the dance floor, surrounded by a bevy of young beauties. I recognized the rodeo queen, and a runner-up for the Swamp Cabbage Festival’s royal court. His lips were locked with the princess from the Speckled Perch Festival, who was the prettiest and the blondest of the bunch.

Johnny Jaybird seethed from a seat with a ringside view of the dance floor. A peanut bowl went untouched on the tabletop in front of him. A bottle of cheap whiskey was getting a workout, though. Pouring himself a hefty glass, Johnny looked as miserable as I felt. It’s a bitch when the person you care about doesn't care about your feelings.

“Mind if I sit?’’ Savannah stood at an empty barstool beside me.

“It’s a free country.’’ I slid the peanut bowl her way. I’d already made a small mountain of shells on the barroom floor.

She settled on the stool, and waved a five-dollar bill at the bartender, an older man I didn’t recognize. He hustled toward us with another ice-filled bucket of beer.

“These are on me.’’ She plucked out the first bottle, and twisted off the cap. “I feel like an idiot for making such a fuss at Jesse’s trailer.’’

I wondered if you calculated the distance in the barroom between Johnny, Savannah, and me, would it form a perfect triangle of crushed hearts? I gave her a shrug. “Love makes people do strange things.’’

Face reddening, she studied her hands. I realized I’d over-stepped.

“Sorry, Savannah. Jesse told us about the relationship between you two.’’

“Jesse has a very big mouth.’’

I noticed she didn’t deny it. Silence settled between us like a long stretch of empty road. The jukebox switched to an oldie by Freddy Fender, “Before the Next Teardrop Falls.’’ The pounding boots turned to a slow shuffle.

She slid a plastic-wrapped praline toward me on the bar. I read the label:
Savannah City Confections
. I placed it in my top pocket, and then clinked my bottle to hers. “Here’s hoping for better luck in love for the both of us.’’

The corners of her mouth crooked into a grin. “Trouble with the police detective?’’

“You do not want to know,’’ I said.

I glanced over at Toby again. Savannah’s gaze followed mine. He had an arm draped around one beauty; another nuzzled his neck. The third playfully snatched the cowboy hat off his head. Perching it atop her own blond locks, she tugged at Toby’s collar to pull him close for a sloppy kiss.

“Poor Johnny Jaybird doesn’t look like he’s enjoying the floor show,’’ I said.

“It’s sad. He has tender feelings for Toby. He’d probably be a good protector, if Toby would come oout. But Hollywood makes people hide who they really are.’’ She raised her bottle to take a sip. The enormous diamond on her wedding ring winked in the blue glow of a neon beer sign.

“People in Hollywood seem to hide a lot of secrets,’’ I said, leadingly.

The thought ran through my mind: What else might Savannah be hiding?

“Give the detecting a rest, would you?’’ I thought I heard a hint of irritation, but when she spun a half-turn toward me, she was smiling. “Speaking of secrets, what’s the deal between your mama and my husband?’’

“There’s absolutely nothing between them.’’ I hoped I sounded reassuring. “Mama is happily married.’’

She took another swallow, and turned her back to the room. “It doesn’t matter, Mace. Paul is married to me in name only.’’

I wanted to tell her it mattered a great deal to Sal, who had nearly pounded her husband into dust defending Mama’s honor. Instead, I asked, “How long has Paul known about you and Jesse?’’

She waved a graceful hand. “Jesse’s not the first. Paul’s known I was into girls since before we got married. He wanted a wife who wouldn’t care if he played around; I wanted a husband who would give me nice things and not ask too many questions.’’

“Is that what you got?’’

Her eyes met mine in the mirror behind the bar. “He doesn’t ask and I don’t tell; and vice versa.’’

“So you ask no questions about Paul and Barbara Sydney? Maybe her husband Norman didn’t subscribe to the same policy.’’

She rolled her eyes and shelled a peanut.

“That whole mess between the Sydneys was more dysfunctional than anything I’ve ever been involved in. Barbara is stone-cold crazy. There’s no telling what that woman is capable of.’’

I didn’t mention that Jesse had said the same thing about Savannah. “Dysfunctional, how?’’ I asked.

She pressed her lips together. “I’m not going to speak ill of the dead. Let’s just say Paul made a pact with two devils to get this picture done.’’

“But …”

She made the lip-zipping motion. “Not to be rude, but it’s none of your business. Ask Barbara or Paul if you want to know more about their relationship.’’

“Why …’’

She cut me off. “Don’t try to weasel it out of me, Mace. I’m not that drunk.’’

I looked at her in the mirror. Her serious expression and the stiffness of her spine told me she was right. She wasn’t at all drunk.

“Okay then,’’ I said. “So what about the ‘nice things’ part of your bargain with Paul?’’ I leaned close to her hand to admire the diamond. “Looks like he came through on your ring.’’

She held her hand to the light. “He did. I also got a little ranch out near Jackson, Wyoming. I’d always wanted to be a cattlewoman.’’

“We had a ranch when I was young, but my daddy made some bad business decisions. We lost it.’’ I took a slug from my beer. “He died not too long after that. Everybody said the stress of losing everything brought on his heart attack.’’

“I’m so sorry.’’ She patted my knee. “Tell you what, you can come out to Wyoming anytime you want. The two of us will saddle up and work the cattle together. Sound good?’’

I gave her a sideways glance. She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t worry. No strings attached. You’re a little too masculine to be my type.’’

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted. I was curious though. “So, is Kelly Conover your type?’’

Savannah snorted. “Hardly. She’s too girly.’’

“I don’t know. She’s part Gypsy. Very hot-blooded.’’

Savannah cocked her head. “You didn’t really believe that load of crap she tries to sell, did you? The woman’s family roots go back generations in Fort Wayne, Indiana.’’

“You’re kidding.’’

“Nope; she’s a hundred-percent, milk-fed Midwesterner. You gotta be careful, Mace. Stick with the Hollywood people who
don’t
lie. Like me. Just as friends, of course.’’

“What the hell?’’ I finally said. “Working cattle in Wyoming sounds pretty good.’’

I tipped my bottle to hers. We clinked to seal the deal.

_____

The hands on the bucking bronc clock behind the bar were almost at midnight. Suddenly, I felt the weight of the day’s events dragging me down toward exhaustion. I still had a long drive ahead of me to my cottage.

I yelled down the bar. “Can I get a Coke over here?’’

The bartender brought me a tall glass with ice, and two cans of soda. “Drink ’em both, Mace. I want you wide awake driving way out there on State Road 98.’’

I peered at his face. His cheeks were ruddy. Broken veins crisscrossed his bulbous nose. He had a lot of miles on him. If I had to guess, I’d say a lot of them had been driven drunk.

“I’m sorry.’’ I smiled. “Do I know you?’’

“Name’s Clyde, from down in Clewiston. I used to date your mama.’’

“Who didn’t?’’

The activity at the bar was winding down. Savannah was about to depart. “I have to be up early to pack,’’ she said. “The shoot’s almost over. I’m leaving in the morning.’’

Toby had abandoned the girls on the dance floor. He sat now at Johnny’s table, leaning close and listening to the assistant director. Toby’s presence made Johnny look so absurdly happy that I felt sorry for him. I hoped the young star decided who he wanted to be before he broke the poor guy’s heart.

An excited murmur moved through the bar, heralding the arrival of a Hollywood VIP. Poised at the open door, Kelly Conover prepared to make a dramatic entrance. Stealing a glance at himself in the mirror, the bartender spit on his thumb and then used it to smooth his unruly unibrow. Too bad he didn’t have time to trim the stray hairs from his nose and ears, too.

I wondered just how long ago it was that Mama dated him.

I was just about to tease the barkeep about his Kelly crush—No fool like an old fool—when I saw her grin over her shoulder. She laughed, that famous sweet-dessert-and-a-side-of-sex giggle. Whoever was behind her, holding the door open, must have said something really funny.

A moment later, I saw Kelly’s companion, hand placed possessively at the small of her back. If I hadn’t grabbed the bar rail, I would have tumbled off my stool from the shock.

Kelly either didn’t know
or didn’t care that she was with my painfully recent ex-beau. She sent me a cheerful wave across the Eight Seconds barroom. Carlos seemed too captivated by the radiance of this star to even glance my way.

I felt all those peanuts melding into an iron cannonball in my stomach. Offering Kelly a curt nod, I turned back to count the ice cubes in my glass of soda.

Please, God, don’t let them come over here.

The man upstairs must have taken pity on me because the two of them headed for a booth in the back. Most people stared openly as they passed. Only one other patron in the bar watched as surreptitiously as I did. From his vantage point a few stools down, Sam Dobbs also tried to make it look like the last thing he was doing was following Carlos and Kelly’s progress in the mirror.

As soon as they ducked into a high-backed booth, I caught Sam’s eye. Leaning past a tattooed redhead next to me, I lifted my glass to him. Sam returned my toast, and added a dejected shrug.

Poor Sam. Poor me. What a couple of saps.

On the jukebox, Willie Nelson began to croon “Always on My Mind,’’ stirring up all kinds of memories. Carlos and I danced to that tune at Mama’s wedding, which was just about the last time things felt right between us.

The movie star and my ex got up to dance to what had been “our song,’’ I felt like the mule in the movie company’s corral had just kicked me in the gut. When the song ended, Savannah left me with a pat on the back and a pitying look.

I’d had all I could take. I left a five for shaggy brow, and scooped my keys off the bar. I cut across the far edge of the dance floor, but it wasn’t far enough to avoid the sight of Kelly gazing up into Carlos’s face with adoration. His hand low on her back pulled her close, as he stared dreamily into those famous green eyes.

I couldn’t compete with her body or her looks. But she was Hollywood-style nutty, wasn’t she? Would Carlos really choose a shallow, mixed-up starlet over me?

Of course he would; especially when the starlet was the same All-American beauty who once gave a come-hither smile from a poster on the wall of his bedroom. Kelly was older, maybe, but she was just as beautiful as the teenaged boy’s fantasy she used to be.

As I pushed open the barroom door, I thought I caught a reflection in the small porthole window. I thought Carlos was watching me leave. I spun around, only to realize he wasn’t looking after all.

A breeze brushed my face as I stepped outside. I was grateful. Maybe the clean night air would help dry the tears that had begun to wet my cheeks.

I stumbled over a chunk of rock in the gravel parking lot, nearly falling on my butt. I wasn’t drunk. I’d ordered light beers,
which went down like water. Nope, I was blinded by tears. I brushed
them away, angry at myself for letting Carlos get to me. Of course he’d prefer a screen idol. Who wouldn’t?

Well, me for one. Greg Tilton had been interested. But all I could see was Carlos when the movie star looked at me. I wished I could take back that moment in the fake graveyard, when Carlos asked if we were truly broken up. I wanted to say no. Instead, I said nothing. If only I could have a do-over, I’d make things right again.

Wending my way through the rows of parked vehicles, I looked for my Jeep. That’s when I spotted Barbara’s gleaming Jaguar at the lot’s far corner. Among the beat-up cars and mud-splattered trucks, it looked as out of place as a high-fashion model at the Walmart.

The driver’s door was open, and the interior light lit. Barbara leaned against the door, facing me. Even though Paul had his back to me, I recognized him by the long gray ponytail snaking down the back of his motorcycle jacket.

Her arms were crossed over her chest as she listened to him, a scowl painted on her face. Taking cover behind a hulking Chevy Silverado four-by-four, I inched close enough to hear them. The cab on the massive truck was taller than me.

“The fact you’re throwing away money isn’t even the main thing, Paul. You’ve lost your touch. ‘’

“But …’’

She hissed, “The dailies look like crap. You’ve lost your touch. You may have been a great director, once. But you’ve become a no-talent hack.’’

Paul’s face reddened. He leaned into her. “How would you know? The only talent you ever had was for marrying the right man way back when.’’

“You’ve pegged one thing: I did marry right. And my ex-husband
would have never stood for what’s been happening on this set. Over budget. Bad PR. Out-of-control stars …’’

He stepped menacingly toward Barbara, his face inches from hers. “Well, Norman’s not here anymore, is he?’’

Drunken laughter carried our way. Paul stepped back, and both of them turned their heads toward the sound. Two cowboys wove through the parking lot. The shorter of the two propped up his buddy, who was about to lose the straw Resistol teetering on his head. As the men passed by, Paul and Barbara glared at each other, eyes spitting sparks.

A truck door slammed nearby, and then the short cowpoke came back alone. His buddy was probably already snoring from the front seat, sleeping it off.

Barbara, still staring at her lover, seemed to be assessing him. Disgust—and something else—was written on her face. “No,’’ she finally said. “Norman is not here. And isn’t that lucky for you?’’

_____

I hit the Play button on my answering machine. As soon as I heard the voice, I knew I’d regret not waiting until the morning.

“Hello, Mace. It’s your mama.’’

She took a long, pre-lecture breath. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and my homemade salsa. Might as well be fortified for what was coming.

“Honey, your cousin Bubba called here tonight. Not the good Bubba. Aunt Jo’s boy. Did you know he broke his arm? Anyhoo, Bubba said he saw you crying in your beer at the Perch while Carlos danced with Kelly Conover. Bubba said she looked as fine as chrome rims on a Ford F-350, by the way. Funny, I completely forgot to ask him what Kelly was wearing …’’

I knew Mama must have a point in mind, somewhere.

“Bubba said he would have come over to check on you, but he was getting lucky with some gal he just met.’’

Sounded like Bubba.

“But what I called about, honey, is you and Carlos. Have you even tried talking to him? I just know if you tell him how you really feel, you’ll be able to iron out things between you.’’

Wila meowed from her spot under my bed.

“My sentiments exactly, girl,’’ I said. “Who’d take relationship advice from a woman who’s been married five times?’’

“Now, Mace, I can picture you rolling your eyes about now.’’

How does she do that?

“But honey, you know I’ve seen you happy with Carlos. All I want is for you to be happy. I think he could give you that, if you’d just let him. Why won’t you let him?’’

The chip in my mouth turned to ashes. I couldn’t swallow, given the lump in my throat. I told myself it was the jalapeno peppers I’d chopped into the salsa bringing tears to my eyes.

“Okay, honey, the machine is telling me to quit now. You’re a beautiful girl, every bit as pretty as Kelly. Well, you would be with a little make-up, anyways. Remember that. I lov … ’’

The beep cut her off, mid-word. I sat there for a moment on my couch, staring out the window into the night. Wila padded into the living room from her hiding spot, and jumped up next to me. We’re not normally a cuddly couple, but the cat seemed to sense I wanted company. Her warm body was a comfort beside me.

“I screwed up, Wila.’’ Whispering, I stroked her velvety coat. “It’s my fault Carlos is fooling around with Kelly. If I’d tried harder to let him know how I feel, that would have been me dancing with him tonight.’’

Wila purred. Did she agree? Was she contradicting me? Maybe she was just enjoying the massage.

The last explanation was most likely. Still, it felt good to unburden myself. I wasn’t Catholic, so the cat was the best confessor I was likely to get.

“What should I do, Wila?’’

A knock at my bedroom window put a quick end to my conversation with the cat. I jumped up; Wila leapt to the floor. As she scurried under the couch, I grabbed Paw-Paw’s shotgun from the closet.