by Sharon Sala
“This is happening, and the sooner you get up and face it, the better we’re all going to be.”
Sahara was shocked by such rude behavior.
“Damn it! Why don’t you tell me what you really think?” she said, as Billie came back with a little basin of water and some salves to put on her foot.
Brendan sidestepped Billie, still pressing his point.
“Look, Miss Travis, you can sit there and sulk about the extra security measures I’m taking, but murderers have already been on this property. They killed your mother and got away, and I don’t intend for that to happen again.”
The word mother rolled off her back like water as she leaned over to watch Billie doctoring her foot. She reached out and laid a hand on Billie’s shoulder.
“Katarina Travis was not my mother. Billie Munroe is my mother, and I thank you, Mama. It already feels better.”
Billie looked up and smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. I guess the old secret no longer matters, does it?”
Sahara slipped off the side of the bed and got down on her knees to hug her.
“It never mattered to me. I hated that Katarina made us live that lie.”
Brendan didn’t know what was happening.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he asked.
Sahara touched Billie’s cheek as she began to explain.
“Katarina Travis was not my birth mother. Billie is. Katarina couldn’t have children, but she denied my father nothing. He loved Katarina, but he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. When he got Billie pregnant, Katarina decided she would pass me off as hers. Don’t ask me why. She didn’t love me, didn’t pretend to care what happened to me, but in the eyes of the world, I was their love child…conceived when they were in Egypt, thus the origin of my name. Then they kept Billie on as a nursemaid.”
“Damn,” Brendan said. “When did you find all this out?”
“I’ve always known.”
“So what happened here that made you leave?”
“The night of my high school graduation I came home and found my clothes packed, the keys to an old car sitting on top of the luggage, five hundred dollars in an envelope and Leopold and Katarina standing at the top of the stairs arm in arm. It wasn’t a pretty scene, but the bottom line was Katarina didn’t want me beneath their roof another night. I asked where my mother was, which made Katarina livid. They told me they’d paid her off and she was gone, and they wanted me gone, too. They told me I was smart enough to figure it out. I didn’t believe them about Billie—I knew she would never abandon me like that—and went to look in her room, but it was empty. I thought I would die. I didn’t know what to do or where to go, but they kicked me out, so I got in the car and drove away.”
Billie’s voice was shaking as she picked up the tale.
“When I woke up in the hospital to be told my girl was gone, I was devastated. They told me an ugly lie…that you’d turned your back on all of us. My shame is that I believed it.”
“They were evil, and I’m not sorry she’s dead,” Sahara muttered.
McQueen’s head was spinning.
“So how many people knew this secret?” he asked.
Billie shrugged. “Leopold and Katrina. Sahara and me.”
“To the rest of the world, Sahara was their daughter?”
“Yes, to be paraded out when they were entertaining, because she was so beautiful…even as a child,” Billie said. “Katarina took the praise as her due, by claiming the child’s beauty was inherited from her.”
Lucy shook her head. “Hollywood will have a field day with this, so you better figure out if you want this news public.”
Sahara had forgotten Lucy was there, but she didn’t mind her knowing—and Lucy was right. This secret would blow up the media coverage on her, which would only serve to confuse what was already happening.
“I’m the housekeeper,” Billie said. “I raised Sahara. That’s already common knowledge, and that’s how it will stand until she wants it told another way. I have prepared food. Please refresh yourselves, and Sahara will show you the way to the dining room when you’re ready to eat.”
“Thank you. We won’t be long,” Brendan said.
“This hell is all worth it just to have you back,” Sahara said, and hugged Billie again.
She cupped her daughter’s face and kissed both cheeks before leaving them on their own.
*
Sahara was unpacked, and she had sent Lucy back to her room to unpack her own luggage. She was moving about the bedroom, poking into corners, looking for familiar objects. There was a phone ringing somewhere in the mansion, signaling a conversation yet to be had.
Sahara watched Brendan from the corner of her eye. When he wasn’t pissing her off with his overbearing ways, he intrigued her. So he had a brother. She wondered about the rest of his family—if he had children, if he had a significant other…not that she cared.
“Hey, Brendan, can I ask you something?”
He closed a dresser drawer and turned around.
“Yes?”
“Do you work out?”
One eyebrow arched. “What? You think I popped out of my mama’s belly like this? Of course I work out. It started in the army and now it’s part of what keeps my clients safe.”
She grinned. “My apologies to your mama for alluding to an unnatural birth.”
“Well, there are four of us. She’s probably felt we were all unnatural at one time or another,” he said with a laugh.
“All boys?”
He nodded. “I’m the oldest, then John, then Carson, then Michael. They’re all married. They all have kids. I’m the holdout, but I’m also the favorite uncle.”
She couldn’t imagine him playing—with kids or anyone else, for that matter. So, there was more to him than a pretty face and body.
“You see where I grew up. What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“Wyoming.”
“In a city?”
“Nope. A ranch outside of Cheyenne. My family still lives there.”
“Is it a big ranch?”
“You’d think so, but about standard for the state. They run about five hundred head of cattle and a small herd of horses on about ten thousand acres.”
Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. It’s called a lack of good grazing land. Takes a lot of land to sustain one steer.”
She tried to imagine him as a cowboy but couldn’t really picture it.
The house phone in Sahara’s bedroom started ringing, and she picked it up.
“Yes?”
It was Billie.
“The police know you’re here. They want to interview you. I told them to give you at least an hour so you could eat. The food is ready when you are.”
“Thank you, Mama. I should have expected that. We’ll be right down.”
She hung up.
“Billie said the police will be here in an hour. They want to interview me. I suppose they’re going to look for a way to pin the murder on me. That’s what they do in the movies.”
Lucy was still feeling giddy from the call she’d made to Wiley as she walked back into Sahara’s room. He was shocked she’d gone to New Orleans with Sahara and was upset he hadn’t known, then got an earful of sweet talk in the process. But she was pulled back to reality when she heard what Sahara was saying.
“Why would they do that, assume you’re guilty?” Lucy asked.
Sahara shrugged. “It’s where they always start, isn’t it? Blame the family—especially the rich, estranged family? Now, excuse me while I take a bathroom break. Be right back and we’ll go downstairs. My mother made us something to eat.” She smiled a genuine smile. “After finding out she still lives here, my shitty life has finally taken a good turn. I’m actually sort of hungry. How about you guys?”
“We’re with you,” Brendan said.
“Excuse me. I’m going to wash up, as well. I’ll meet you in the hall,” Lu
cy said.
Brendan tried to get a read on the assistant as she left the room, but she was a hard one. Polite, emotionless, rarely laughed, but competent. She wasn’t the usual Hollywood kiss-up employee, but then Sahara wasn’t the usual Hollywood diva, so there was that.
They trooped downstairs in tandem without talking, Brendan leading the way down the stairs with Lucy and Sahara following.
There was an immense portrait of a very handsome couple hanging in the hall. Lucy pointed. “Is that them?” she asked.
Sahara didn’t bother to look up. “Yes, that’s Leopold and Katarina Travis…my so-called parents.”
“But this place is stunning. You got to grow up here,” Lucy said, a hint of awe in her voice.
Sahara stopped, her eyes blazing with sudden anger.
“No. I was forced to live here, trotted out when it suited their purposes to put me on display, and stuck in the kitchen with Billie to play by myself when I was not. I told you I ate in the kitchen with the help. That’s because the help was my family. That’s where I lived. Not in this godforsaken tribute to excess.” She took a deep breath and tried to let go of the anger. “Now, enough about them. I can smell Billie’s good cooking already.”
Brendan could tell by the stiff set of her shoulders as she walked off that some old wounds had been opened. He lengthened his stride to catch up.
The kitchen was a little warmer than the air-conditioned hallway, but in a comfortable way.
Sahara couldn’t believe fifteen years had passed since she’d been in this room. Except for a couple of new appliances, nothing had changed but Billie. She was a little older and a lot grayer. Sahara wondered how much of that gray hair came from the grief of losing her daughter.
It made her want to cry all over again, thinking how they’d both been lied to. She wanted this killer to be caught so she could have her life back, and wondered if Billie would ever consider coming to live with her in LA.
She slipped up beside her mother and whispered in her ear.
“Mama, can we please eat in here?”
Billie beamed. “Of course.”
Brendan scanned the room as he entered, eyeing the curtained windows and the clear glass window on the back door, and then looked out into the garden, making sure there were no sharpshooters waiting for a kill shot. He saw the crime scene tape outside where Katarina’s body had been found, then turned to watch Billie setting out food. Sahara must have talked her into serving them there, rather than the dining room. He understood why. This was where she felt safe, loved and welcomed.
“The food looks wonderful,” Sahara said, and reached over Lucy’s shoulder to snag a blackened shrimp from a platter of shrimp and rice. “Taste this, Brendan.”
He took the shrimp from her fingers and popped it in his mouth, then gave her a thumbs-up.
“That’s some good seasoning.”
“Thank you, Mr. McQueen. Everyone, please sit. Would you prefer wine or sweet tea with lunch?”
“Oh, sweet tea for sure,” Sahara said.
“And for me,” Lucy said.
“And for me, and please call me Brendan,” he said, then thanked her as she filled his glass.
“Aren’t you going to sit with us?” he asked.
Sahara looked up to realize there were only three plates at the table.
“Mama! Good grief. Come sit down with us. There’s so much about this mess that we need to talk about.”
Billie sat.
Sahara frowned, got up and got a plate and flatware, and plopped it down in front of Billie, then poured her a glass of sweet tea, as well.
“Now, then. We eat,” Sahara said, satisfied that Billie was already putting food on her plate.
So they ate and they talked.
Billie had already heard about the attacks on Sahara’s life and was worried.
“Brendan, how are you keeping her safe?”
“As you already know, she goes nowhere without me, and I’m good at my job. We’ll just leave it at that.”
“He’s ex‒Army Ranger,” Sahara said.
“So is Will, the man installing security outside right now. When he’s finished, he’ll be putting security up inside, as well,” he said.
Billie nodded. “Okay, then. Whatever it takes to keep my girl safe.”
“Yes, ma’am. I fully intend to do that,” he said.
“Did anyone save room for dessert?” Billie asked once they’d cleaned their plates.
“Not unless there are beignets,” Sahara said.
“There are beignets,” Billie said.
Sahara groaned with pleasure.
Lucy gave her a disapproving look. “You won’t fit into wardrobe at this rate,” she said.
“I don’t have wardrobe. I’m not going back to finish the film. I told Harold to get me out of the contract.”
Lucy looked stunned. “Why would you do that?”
“Because people are trying to kill me, Lucy! Because other people are dying because of me,” Sahara snapped. “Why would I continue to put them in danger?”
Lucy paled. “Right. I was just…surprised is all.”
“I’m sorry. I just forgot you didn’t already know.”
“Who found Mrs. Travis’s body?” Brendan asked, deciding it would be better to change the subject and avoid any more arguing.
“I did,” Billie said. “I got up to begin breakfast at my usual time, which was just before 6:00 a.m. The back door was ajar. I thought someone had broken in to rob us, and then I saw Mrs. Travis lying on the walkway between the rosebeds. She was in her nightgown. She’d been shot. I called the police and then went to look for Mr. Travis, and that’s when we discovered he was missing.”
“Do they suspect that he’s the killer?” he asked.
Billie shrugged. “I don’t know what they’re thinking, but they’d be crazy to take their case in that direction. He worshipped the ground she walked on.”
“Where are the beignets?” Sahara asked, clearly uninterested in discussing the Travises any further.
“In the butler’s pantry. You’ll see them.”
Sahara got up and disappeared into a room off the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” Lucy said, and followed.
Brendan got up so that he could see them, then watched the casual ease with which the movie star was digging through a two-hundred-year-old butler’s pantry for deep-fried dough. He stifled a grin when she did a little pirouette because she found them, then directed Lucy to bring what looked like a big salt shaker with her as they came back to the table.
“Prepare yourselves. These are the best beignets ever,” Sahara said.
Billie distributed dessert plates, and Lucy poured more sweet tea. For a short period, they set aside the ugliness of why they were there and were able to just enjoy each other’s company and some delicious food.
Sahara put a beignet on her dessert plate and then took the shaker Lucy had carried to the table and liberally sprinkled her beignet with cinnamon sugar on top of the powdered sugar already there.
Brendan hid a smile as she literally licked her lips before taking that first bite.
When a little cloud of powdered sugar shook loose from the beignet, Sahara mopped it up with her finger and kept eating.
“Where’s the paparazzi when you need them?” Lucy said, and giggled. “A shot of you covered in cinnamon and licking up sugar would be worth a year’s wages.”
Sahara shrugged.
Billie smiled. “It’s also on your nose and your chin.”
As soon as Sahara finished, she grabbed a paper napkin and cleaned herself up.
“Wouldn’t want the cops to think I wasn’t grieving here,” she said.
There was a knock at the kitchen door.
Sahara jumped.
“It’s Will,” Brendan said, and answered the door. “How’s it going?” he asked, as Will entered the kitchen.
“Good. I called my crew. They just arrived, so I wanted you to know there will be s
ix of us in here for a while, because this place is huge. Tell me what you want covered.”
“All of the doors and windows on the first floor. Motion detector lights on both front and back doors, and I want two control panels. One on the ground floor near the front entrance, and one in the hallway upstairs so that the security system can be armed or disarmed from either site.”
“I’ll get the guys and we’ll get started.”
“The police are going to be here soon. Just so you know,” Brendan said.
“We’ll stay out of their way,” Will said.
On cue, the doorbell rang.
Billie got up. “All of you, into the library. I’ll bring them to you.”
“And I’ll bring my men in through this door, then,” Will said, and hurried out.
“This way,” Sahara said, and led the way through the maze of hallways to the other side of the house, then into a room with dark cherrywood paneling and two walls of floor-to-ceiling books. The odor of tobacco lingered. It made her shudder. Leopold smoked a pipe. She wondered where the hell he’d gotten off to, but then let it go. As long as he wasn’t here, she’d cope.
She paused in the middle of the room.
“Stay away from the windows, please,” Brendan said.
“Oh, right,” Sahara said, and chose a chair out of the line of sight. “Lucy, I doubt they’ll talk to you, but if they do, don’t be nervous. And just for the record, I’m sorry you’re caught up in this.”
“No, it’s okay,” Lucy said, and took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs.
Instead of sitting, Brendan moved closer to Sahara.
“You can come hold my hand if it will make you feel better,” she said, her sarcasm obvious.
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond.
She sighed. She was just trying to lighten the moment, but she’d pissed him off—again.
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous,” she said.
“I know. It’s okay. Chin up. Here they come,” he said, and then just like that, he watched the famous Sahara Travis stepping into character as she wiped her face of expression and lifted her chin.
Seven
Billie felt the weight of suspicion as she led the police commissioner and two homicide detectives into the library. They’d stared at her as if she’d pulled the trigger herself, even though she’d already been through this when the body was found.