I don’t speak.”
“Oh.” Judith glanced from Eugenia to Winifred. “I
see.” She didn’t really, but couldn’t think of anything
else to say. She hesitated, feeling Eugenia’s hard-eyed
stare. Judith cleared her throat. “Is there something I
can do?”
“Why, yes,” Eugenia replied. “You could ask what
Winifred thinks of my suggestion. Only don’t mention
that it came from me.”
“I don’t think there’s another flight to L.A. tonight,”
Judith said. “The red-eye leaves shortly after midnight.”
Eugenia waved a hand that was encased in fingerless black lace gloves. “Bruno doesn’t fly commercial.
He has his own jet.”
“Oh.” Judith started toward the sofa, aware that
Winifred was also giving her a steely-eyed stare. Taking
a deep breath, she decided to approach Bruno directly.
His eyes were dull as he gazed up at her from under
the hood of his burnoose. “Yes?”
“Mr. Zepf,” Judith began. She shivered slightly. The
fire had burned out on the hearth, and the wind created
a draft. Roman fashion wasn’t intended for a chilly autumn evening in the Pacific Northwest. “Mr. Zepf,” Judith repeated, “I want to say how sorry I am that your
movie wasn’t well received. Someone suggested that
perhaps you’d like to fly back to Los Angeles tonight.
What do you think?”
Bruno looked blank. “I don’t think. I can’t think. I
mustn’t think. Could you get me another Scotch?” He
pointed to his empty glass on the coffee table between
the matching sofas.
“Of course,” Judith responded, and went over to Joe
at the bar just as Dirk and Angela headed upstairs.
“Zepf needs zapping,” Judith said in a low voice. “I
feel sorry for him. Do you suppose it’s as bad as he
makes out?”
“Judging from the funereal pall around here,” Joe
said, opening Bruno’s favorite brand, “I’d say yes. I
don’t know much about the movie business, but a flop
can ruin a career. And I don’t mean just Bruno’s.”
“I never thought of it that way,” Judith said softly,
then gazed around the living room. Of the original
guest list, Chips Madigan and Winifred Best remained.
And Bruno, of course. Judith realized that even she
was beginning to consider him an afterthought. In a fit
of uncatlike compassion, Sweetums was still curled up
on Bruno’s lap.
Joe pointed to the elaborate buffet. “I’ll wrap up
