glimpsed photographs. He was Bruno Zepf,
megaproducer and Hollywood legend-in-the-making.
“Mr. Zepf,” Judith said, putting out her hand.
“Mr. Zepf,” echoed Renie and Arlene, who had
joined Judith on the porch. Renie looked as if she were
trying very hard not to be impressed; Arlene appeared
close to bursting with unbridled gush.
Zepf clicked off the cell phone and zeroed in on Judith, his shrewd blue eyes narrowing a bit. “You’re
Mrs. . . . Flynn?”
“I am.” To her horror, Judith dropped a slight curtsy.
“Welcome to Hillside Manor,” Arlene burbled, grabbing the hand that Judith had just released. “This is a
wonderful B&B. This is a wonderful neighborhood.
This is a wonderful city.” She lowered her voice only a
jot. “That’s why we’re thinking of moving.”
Judith and Renie were used to Arlene’s contradictions. Judith flinched, but Bruno apparently hadn’t
heard Arlene. He had already moved on to shake
Renie’s hand without ever looking right at her, and was
now in the entry hall, surveying his new surroundings.
Such was his air of possession that Judith felt as if
she’d not only rented Bruno a room but sold him the
entire house.
Judith had to force herself to take her eyes off the
great man and greet the other guests. She immediately
recognized Dirk Farrar and Angela La Belle, whose famous faces had appeared in a series of hit movies. Judith had actually seen two of their films, on video. Just
as the pair reached the porch, Judith noticed that
Naomi Stein had come out of her house on the corner
and Ted Ericson was pulling into his driveway across
the street.
As Ted got out of his car, Dirk Farrar also saw the
newcomers. “Beat it, scumbags!” he yelled. “No paparazzi!” Pushing past Angela La Belle and the threewoman welcoming team, he disappeared into the
living room.
With a faint sneer on her face, Angela La Belle ignored the gawking neighbors along with her fellow
actor and proceeded up the front steps.
“Ms. La Belle,” Judith said, gathering her aplomb,
“I so enjoyed your performance in”—her mind went
blank—“your last movie.”
Angela’s face, which seemed so angelic on the screen,
wore a chilly smile. “Thanks. Where’s the john?”
“Straight ahead,” Renie said, pointing to the new
door that Skjoval Tolvang had recently installed.
Judith was left to confront a somewhat less familiar
face. She racked her brain to recall who else was on
Bruno’s guest list.
“Hi, Mr. Carmody,” Renie said, coming to the rescue. “My husband and I were sorry you didn’t win
