people who are actually involved in shooting a film,
everyone else tends to work late into the night.”
“The coffee’s ready,” Judith said. “Would you like a
cup?”
“Certainly,” Eugenia replied, surveying the kitchen
with a critical eye. “Black, please.”
Judith poured the coffee into a Moonbeam’s mug
and handed it to her guest. “I’m curious,” she said in a
casual tone. “Why was Morris Mayne’s wife allowed
to go back to L.A. when the rest of you weren’t?”
Eugenia choked on her first swallow of coffee.
“Well . . .” she began, gathering her aplomb, “that situation was different.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” Eugenia cleared her throat. “Different.” She
winked.
Judith gave the other woman a quizzical look. “I
don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to.” Eugenia winked again.
Enlightenment dawned. “You mean,” Judith said,
“Morris came here with someone who wasn’t his
wife?”
“Now,” Eugenia said, wagging a finger, “don’t be
too hard on Morris. His wife is a genuine recluse. She
hasn’t left their house in fifteen years. You can hardly
blame the man if he sometimes gets lonely when he
travels. It’s sad, really. I admire him for staying with
her.”
“Yes,” Judith said slowly, “you have a point. So the
woman who came here with him after the premiere
was his . . . ah . . . companion?”
It was Eugenia’s turn to look puzzled. “What
woman?”
“The one dressed as a pioneer,” Judith replied, turning the bacon in the cast-iron skillet.
Eugenia shrugged her broad shoulders. “I’ve no idea
what you’re talking about. Morris’s . . . companion remained at the hotel.”
Joe’s conversation with Woody ended just as Eugenia took her coffee into the front parlor.
“Eat your words, Jude-girl,” Joe said, wielding a
whisk in a bowl of eggs. “Woody came up with some
interesting stuff.”
“Criminal stuff?” Judith asked in surprise.
“If it was, would you stop treating me like I had
bubonic plague?”
So frazzled were Judith’s nerves that she actually
had to think twice before answering. “Yes, sure, go
ahead.” Her attempt to smile wasn’t very successful.
Joe didn’t respond until he’d put a quarter pound of
butter into a huge frying pan. “Nothing on Eugenia,
Morris, or Chips,” he said, keeping his voice down in
