Silver Scream : A Bed-and-breakfast Mystery

Judith inadvertently neglected the agent’s efforts as

she zeroed in on a word that had captured her attention.

“You mentioned hang-ups?” Again, she wore her air of

innocence.

“Family background,” Eugenia said, snapping her

fingers at Charles for another hit. “His parents may

have moved to California, where Mr. Zepf worked in

the business, but they were very strict. What would you

expect with a German father and a Midwestern

mother? It’s a wonder Bruno’s creativity wasn’t stifled

before he could leave home.”

“I understand he went in search of his roots,” Judith

said, trying not to stare as Eugenia knocked back a

third gin.

“He did,” Eugenia replied. “He went to Germany to

discover his father’s past. Josef Zepf had come from

Wiesbaden, the son of a shoemaker. Bruno loved Germany, especially the music and the literature. No doubt

Wagner influenced him, which may be why his pictures always ran a bit long.”

“As long as The Gasman?” Judith asked as Eugenia

signaled for yet another drink.

“Not that long,” Eugenia said. “But even the picture

that won the film-festival prize— No Prunes for Pru-

dence—was over two and a half hours.”

“That’s a lot of prunes,” Judith murmured.

250

Mary Daheim

The agent, however, was in full spate, and apparently didn’t hear the remark. “He visited England as

well, since his mother, Helena, had been stationed

there before being sent to Germany,” Eugenia continued. Her voice had taken on a lilting quality, as if she

were narrating a documentary on Bruno’s life. Or

quoting from an A&E Biography. Judith was reminded

of Winifred’s dissertation on Bruno. Maybe all his associates had been forced to memorize the producer’s

life story.

“After more than a year,” Eugenia went on, “he returned to the States. The farm in Iowa where his

mother had been raised was gone, the fields plowed

under for a development, but the house was still there.

Grandfather Walls had died, but Bruno’s grandmother

still lived in the old house with its rickety steps and

shutters which hung by a single hinge and clattered in

the wind. Grandmother Walls was very old and ill.

Bruno stayed with her until the end came, almost a

year later.”

“That’s admirable,” Judith said, thinking there

should be a violin accompaniment to Eugenia’s recital.

“Bruno sounds very compassionate.”

“Oh, he is. He was,” Eugenia corrected herself with

a start. “My God, I can’t believe he’s gone!” She requested a fifth drink. “To Bruno,” she said, holding up

her glass.

“To Bruno,” Judith echoed, finishing her Scotch.