“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.’’
Perched on the top
rail of the horse corral, I watched across the way as Jeb and one of his ranch hands worked about two dozen head of cattle. Jeb’s cow dog gave a couple of yips, helping to drive the animals toward their pen.
It was late morning. After breakfast, my sisters and I had separated, as they had errands to finish in town. When Mama and I arrived at the movie location, she’d vanished into the hair and make-up trailer. She was probably regaling the stylists right now with her beauty tips.
Now, Jeb leaned into the small herd from the saddle of his bay gelding. He and the horse seemed as one. The animal pivoted and side-stepped, pushing against the cows and easing off as needed. It was like a dance, where all the partners knew their steps. In one fluid motion, Jeb turned and flicked his cow whip over the rump of one recalcitrant steer.
My heart thrummed, keeping time with the hoof beats. Damn if that man wasn’t a beautiful sight in the saddle.
Finally, the dog barked and snapped at the heels of the straggler. The cow trotted to catch up with the rest of the herd. The ranch hand swung shut the gate as the last animal entered the enclosure, the dog still in pursuit.
Jeb spun and galloped toward me, stopping his horse inches from the fence where I sat. He grinned, and saluted me with an index finger to the brim of his cowboy hat. His white teeth gleamed in his sun-browned face. A smear of dirt, or maybe dried manure, crossed his angled cheekbone.
“I see you’re still riding that sorry nag,’’ I said. “How old is poor Cheyenne now, about a hundred and ten?’’
He lifted the whip and pointed it at me, a smile belying the menacing gesture. “You should know better than to poke fun at a cowman’s horse. He’s twenty, and he can run circles around horses half his age.’’
He turned the horse in a couple of tight circles to demonstrate. I jumped off the rail to give the hardworking horse a pat on the neck.
“So Cheyenne’s just like you, huh? Twice as good as cowpokes half your age?’’
Jeb laughed. “Yep, I'm just like that Toby Keith song.” He started the verse. I chimed in, singing about how he might not be the man he once was, but he’s still as good once as he ever was.
Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Page 12