Tawas Goes Hollywood

by Madison Johns

  “Thank you for inviting us. We look forward to seeing you in Tawas.”

  “So that’s it, we’ll be leaving right away?” I asked.

  Andrew smiled. “How long will it take to shoot the movie?”

  “Actually it all depends,” Roman said. “But I can have the film shot with only a minimal budget, and believe me, I’m ready to move on this.”

  Andrew linked his arm with mine as we left with Eleanor and Mr. Wilson following.

  We hadn’t made it far when I had to ask Eleanor, “How can you be so calm, Eleanor, when our adventures might make it to the big screen?”

  “I believe Roman mentioned the Hallmark Channel.”

  “I hope Tawas is ready to be overtaken,” Andrew said as he pulled out his phone and called the airline to rearrange our return flight home.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t believe they’re making a movie about me,” Eleanor exclaimed as she rubbed her arms frantically. “Did we have to meet at Tawas Point?”

  “The writers insisted on it. I believe they’re trying to get a feel for Tawas, and it’s private enough right now that we won’t be disturbed,” I said.

  “It would have been much better if we met indoors. No wonder so many sailboats are on the lake today. The wind is awful, but perfect for sailing.”

  “We can hardly leave now.”

  “Why couldn’t we wait in the car?”

  “I suppose we could. And by the way, they’re making the movie about me ... . I mean us. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have never met Mr. Wilson.”

  “I met him at Walmart. I hardly think you were responsible for that.”

  “I hope they add that to the movie,” I said.

  A sport-utility vehicle came barreling toward us and Eleanor tackled me safely out of its way. I grumbled when I landed face first in the sand.

  “Are you okay?” a male voice asked.

  The men didn’t wait for an answer as they hurried over and helped us to our feet.

  “Let me guess, you’re the sleuths the movie is being made about,” the younger of the men asked as he brushed the sand off his skinny jeans. He was thin as a rail and only about five feet something.

  “How could you ever guess?” Eleanor asked, spitting out sand.

  “Roman didn’t exaggerate about either of you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a senior citizen tackled by another one before,” the second, pudgy young man said.

  The second man’s cheeks reddened from what could be seen from above his full beard. His jeans were much looser and a blue sweater covered his belly.

  “That’s us in a handbag, ready to do stunts at a moment’s notice.” I grinned. “I’m Agnes Barton and this is Eleanor Mason.”

  “I’m Brax Jenkins,” the first man said, “and this is my partner Austin Weaver.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened. “I think it’s great that you and your domestic partner work together.”

  “What?” Austin’s face flushed. “We’re business partners not ... that way.”

  “Not everyone is gay in Hollywood” Brax said, wagging his head.

  “I tell Eleanor here all the time to never assume anything about people when she first meets them.”

  “No harm done,” Brax said.

  “I must admit that people have assumed that Agnes and I are a couple too,” Eleanor said with a chuckle. “I suppose I wanted to make it clear that we’d never discriminate against anyone. Boy did I ever mess that up.”

  Brax threw his arm over Austin’s shoulders. “ I will admit Austin is quite adorable in a teddy bear sort of way.”

  Austin jabbed Brax in the ribs until he gasped and massaged his side. “I was just kidding.”

  Austin grumbled. “Sorry, I think the long trip has gotten to me. But we wanted to arrive before the crew shows up.”

  “Which will be when exactly?” Eleanor asked.

  “Tomorrow or the next day.”

  “I hope it’s not too soon because we’re not completely done with the script,” Brax said. “But we’ll be burning the midnight oil to finish it.”

  “I have a good idea,” I said. “We could help you.”

  “You’re writers?”

  “No, but you could follow us around. It would be a good way to see what a typical day is for us,” I said.

  “And you could meet our friends,” Eleanor added.

  Brax and Austin exchanged a glance. “I think that’s a great idea, but the director gave us a character list that we’re working from.”

  “What do you have so far?” Agnes asked.

  Brax pulled a paper from his pocket. “Sheriff Peterson, the two of you of course, Elsie Bradford, Marjory and Bill Hayes, your daughter Martha, to name a few.”

  “You can’t forget our husbands,” Eleanor exclaimed.

  “You mean Andrew Hart and Mr. Wilson?” Austin asked. Eleanor nodded and he added, “They both have smaller roles. We were told to focus on the both of you and the plot, which is a murder mystery.”

  “I see,” I began, “but our friends are important too, which is why I think it would be great if you met them.”

  “I think it’s a great idea to follow you two around, but we need to check into our room first,” Brax said. “And we both need some downtime. Teddy bear needs a nap.”

  “I understand. Why don’t you give us your number, Brax, and we’ll touch base with you later? We could meet you at Elsie Bradford’s house if that works?”

  “I’ll call you in a few hours then,” Brax said.

  “Where are you staying?” Eleanor asked. “The Tawas Bay Beach Resort?”

  “Yes, but we preferred somewhere quiet. I believe they call it Robinson’s Manor, but it’s all booked up.”

  “That’s not in Tawas, it’s in Tadium,” Agnes said. “Who told you about that place?”

  “Roman wanted to book the entire place for the cast and crew.”

  “Robinson’s Manor is always booked up.”

  “I wouldn’t want to stay there,” Eleanor exclaimed with a shudder. When Austin cocked a brow she added, “An entire family was murdered there in 1968!”

  “Now that sounds interesting.” Brax’s eyes widened.

  “We solved the cold case murder,” I said as I brushed back a strand of hair. “The murderer was from out of town.”

  “Now I remember. I believe we were going to use that for the movie, but Roman changed the direction for the script.”

  “Too bad. That would be a great plot. Probably too complicated for a movie. May I ask what the plot is?”

  “Roman hasn’t given us permission to show anyone.”

  “But we have the final approval of the script,” I insisted.

  Brax and Austin exchanged a look. “I’d be shocked if Roman would make changes for you,” Brax said. “But I assure you both that we’re writing a good script. Too many hands in the pot has ruined more than one movie. I’d hate if Roman canceled production.”

  Eleanor narrowed her eyes and I pulled her back to the car after Brax called my phone so I’d have his number.

  “Why did you pull me away like that?” Eleanor demanded.

  “Because that conversation was going nowhere quick. It’s apparent that they won’t be changing the script to suit us.”

  “We should have had Henry Winston write the script,” Eleanor choked out.

  “He writes espionage novels not Murder, She Wrote-type stories,” I reminded Eleanor. “We’ll have to trust Roman Douglas. I don’t think he wants to make us unhappy about the movie.”

  “For some reason trust and Hollywood don’t go hand in hand. Let’s head over to Elsie’s house and tell her she made the cut.” Eleanor grinned.

  “I’m not sure if we should go down that road. We have more friends than just Elsie and Marjory, and I’d hate to upset our other friends.”

  ELSIE’S DRIVEWAY WAS full of cars, most of them outfitted with handicapped license plates. We walked toward the house and I gasped at the site of Jack Winsto
n urinating on a rose bush on the side of the house.

  We hurried past and through the doorway as Elsie held the door for us.

  I turned quickly and stared into her blue eyes and asked, “Did you know Jack is out there peeing on your rose bushes?”

  Elsie frowned and shook a fist. “Henry please do something about that father of yours before I get a pitchfork out of the barn!”

  Henry shook his head and headed out the door.

  “However did you get Henry to come here today? He’s usually on a tight deadline,” I said.

  “Tony convinced him to take a week off.”

  “A whole week? Wow,” Eleanor said.

  “Are you losing weight, Elsie?” I had to ask, studying the slack in her powder blue outfit.

  “Oh yes. My diabetes is getting out of control. I’ve even cut back on my spiked lemonade.”

  “You noticed she said cut back, not cut out,” Marjory said, holding a glass of lemonade. “This isn’t spiked, if you wanted to know.”

  “It’s not?” Eleanor asked, disappointed.

  “Eleanor means it’s much too early to drink spiked anything,” I said.

  “You really have changed, Elsie,” I said, “and I approve of you thinking more about your health. Eleanor and I could certainly do the same.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Eleanor said. “I’m not giving up pie, ice cream or doughnuts.”

  “I think having a salad now and then wouldn’t kill either of us.”

  Henry shook his head as he returned. He was in fine form today in taupe linen pants and shirt. Tony came out of the kitchen tugging on the strings of his apron. He was the polar opposite of his partner Henry. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore all black.

  “Are you sure you’re cooking today?” I asked. “You don’t even have a dot of flour on you.”

  “It could be because I’m not baking. I’m making rib roast with red-skinned potatoes and grilled green beans.”

  “You make cooking sound so easy. And I know you’ll dress up your dishes nicely,” I said.

  “I should have been a chef, but there’s no need for one here in Tawas. It’s really a bedroom community.”

  “Don’t forget it’s a tourist town as well.”

  “I’ve been doing a little catering lately, even if I haven’t charged for it because it’s mostly fish fries and such. I rather like working alongside the senior citizens at the Knights of Columbus hall.”

  “That’s hard work. I’m shocked they’re allowing you take charge.”

  “I’m not taking charge of anything, believe me. They’d never allow me to.” He laughed.

  “My dad is in the backyard. I think he’s cooled off now,” Henry announced.

  “What got him so upset?” Eleanor asked. “Someone step on his toe?”

  Elsie shook her head in disapproval at Eleanor. “He’s upset because I insist he change his bad eating habits.”

  The more Elsie talked about healthy eating the more I think we won’t have a very good dinner today, even with Tony in the kitchen.

  I jumped at a truck backfiring.

  “I believe the Hills are here,” Marjory said.

  Henry opened the door, and Rosa Lee Hill and her sons Curt and Curtis strode in.

  “Would you look who’s back in town, boys? It’s Agnes and Eleanor. How goes it in Hollywood?” Rosa Lee asked.

  “We went on a studio tour and we spotted what we thought was a body,” I said.

  “But it turned out it was a movie being shot, and the director certainly wasn’t very amused,” Eleanor added.

  “I imagine not, but certainly you must have shocked the director. I don’t think they’ve been exposed to a real-life detectives before,” Rosa Lee said with a chuckle.

  “Ma, we’re going outside. I think Jack is starting a fire,” Curt said.

  “Hopefully in the appropriate place,” Elsie said.

  Curt and Curtis prowled through the house silently. They were more comfortable in the woods, hunting. They’re jeans and dirty T-shirt sort of men with dishwater blond hair. They were associated at times with the Michigan Militia, but have worked with the FBI when their expertise was needed.

  Rosa Lee fidgeted, and we walked into the dining room, where cheese-covered crackers were carefully laid on a decorative plate. I picked up one and made a face as I chewed. “Skinny Cow cheese, I believe, but the pimento adds to the flavor.”

  “Elsie will be the death of all of us.” Rosa Lee laughed.

  Rosa Lee was dressed not much differently than her sons, although her shirt wasn’t stained, surprising because she was in the height of canning season.

  “Have you made any homemade jam yet?” Eleanor asked, smacking her lips.

  “You can come over anytime for a jar of my strawberry freezer jam,” Rosa Lee offered. “I won’t be making grape jelly until the fall.”

  I answered my phone just as Andrew and Mr. Wilson came through the door carrying a brown paper bag.

  “Thankfully someone brought the goodies,” Eleanor exclaimed.

  “Yes, if you want to eat paper plates and cups.” Andrew laughed.

  “Brax and Austin will be here soon,” I announced.

  “Who?” Elsie asked.

  “The writers from Hollywood.”

  “I can’t wait to meet them. I’ve never met a writer. No offense, Henry.”

  I peeked out the window as Brax and Austin pulled up. I stepped into the kitchen and welcomed them from the back door. “I didn’t expect to hear from you two so soon.”

  “I didn’t either,” Brax said. “But we were too antsy to take a nap. I think it might have had something to do with the story about an entire family murdered at Robinson’s Manor.”

  I had texted Brax Elsie’s address when we arrived and told him to be prepared to meet our friends.

  “I hope you’re ready to meet our group.”

  I returned to the living room and announced, “Brax and Austin arrived sooner than expected,” and began making introductions as the writers walked through the door. “Elsie Bradford is the one dressed in all powder blue. She’s what we call the social icon of Tawas.”

  “Marjory is the one dressed in yellow golf clothing,” Eleanor said. “You met her husband Bill outside—dressed in the same ensemble.”

  Brax pulled out his phone and keyed in notes.

  “Over here is Rosa Lee Hill. She has a green thumb and has the best garden in all of Tawas,” I explained.

  “But she doesn’t grow marijuana anymore,” Eleanor added.

  “I only grew medicinal marijuana, but I did quit,” Rosa Lee said. “I have a grow shop now where I only sell supplies to other people.”

  Austin made a few notes of his own.

  “Don’t ask my beau Jack when you go outside what’s wrong with him,” Elsie said. “It’s bad enough that he sprayed the rose bushes today.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Brax and Austin are the writers we met earlier,” I said. “They led us to believe we might not be able to have much control over the script.”

  “They won’t even let us have a peek, and it’s not even finished,” Eleanor added.

  “I’d like to take a peek at what you’ve already written,” Andrew asserted.

  “You’ll have to speak to Roman about that,” Austin said. “We can’t do anything unless he gives us the go-ahead.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Andrew said.

  “He means we’ll discuss that with Roman when he comes to town,” I said, hoping to smooth things over.

  “If he decides to direct,” Brax said. “He might have another director handle the movie.”

  I sighed. “But I thought —.”

  “I’ll have to go over the contract again a little more closely,” Andrew said. “I don’t remember reading that.” Andrew’s brow arched sharply. “Why is Roman sending an entire crew here to make the movie if the script isn’t in place is the more important question.”
r />   “I don’t know, but you should ask Roman when he shows up,” Brax offered.

  “We should have known this might happen,” Eleanor fretted.

  I handed Eleanor a cracker. “I’m sure it will all work out. The least we can do is give Roman a chance.”

  “If the script isn’t written how close to production can they really be?” Elsie asked from the doorway to the dining room as she snatched a cracker.

  “I don’t see how Roman would have time to assemble a cast.” Andrew frowned.

  “Let’s go out back and join the men at the burn barrel,” Mr. Wilson said. “I haven’t seen Jack in a few months.”

  “Good! You can cheer Jack up. He’s bummed that I won’t let him have junk food,” Elsie offered.

  “We’d be happy to,” Andrew said with a wink as he set the paper plates and glasses in the kitchen, but still held the bag tightly as he glided out the patio door with Mr. Wilson. Tony then wandered back into the other room, where he took over his duties in the kitchen.

  Chapter Three

  Eleanor and I led the way outside, with Brax and Austin following. We introduced them to Jack, who merely sneered in their direction.

  Andrew and Mr. Wilson laughed as Jack stuffed beef jerky in his mouth at the burn barrel.

  “Elsie has Jack on a healthy food regime,” I said.

  “That explains why he asked me to bring snacks and not let the womenfolk know about it.” Andrew laughed.

  “I’m Curt and this is my brother Curtis,” Curt said locking eyes with Brax. “We’re associated with the Michigan Militia, so if you don’t play right by Agnes and Eleanor you’re in for a world of hurt.”

  Austin backed up. “Don’t blame us, we’re only the writers.” His eyes then widened as he stared at Henry. “Are you Henry Winston?” he asked.

  Henry glanced behind him. “Oh, you know, I think I am.”

  “We’re huge fans of your books,” Brax said. “I’d sell my soul to write a script about one of your books.”

  “I’d write the script if that ever happened. I don’t have any interest in doing that, though. I’d never allow my characters to be altered.”

  “That’s a touchy subject for most authors. Characters are like your children,” Brax agreed. “I admire your candor.”