friends?”
He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Suzy did say Bobby Joe was working on a script with her in mind.”
Then it was possible she’d come out to the mountain to talk to Bobby Joe without knowing he’d let Graf and I stay in his place for a few weeks. But she never knocked on the door. She was climbing the ravine. It didn’t wash.
“Suzy’s death troubles me. Now Joey is hurt.” I didn’t have to go further. Federico took my hand and pressed it.
“I’ll hire the security company now. Ricardo can check out several agencies and find the best one.”
“I think that’s a wise decision.” I found a smile and pasted it to my face. Federico had enough to worry about. If someone was up to something on the set, maybe the presence of security guards would put a stop to it.
I awoke from a nap to discover that the entire day had slipped away. The rustle of papers made me sit up in bed. Graf sat in an overstuffed chair, his feet propped on an ottoman, reading
“Would you like some coffee, Sarah Booth?”
I wasn’t certain what I wanted, other than to pat the bed and ask Graf to come and lay beside me. That would open too many doors, though. I sat up and rubbed my face. “I feel like Dorothy, and this isn’t Kansas anymore.” The room was magnificent, especially with Graf there as if he were part of my family.
“There’s some good noise about this movie,” he said, folding the paper and offering it to me.
I shook my head. “Millie tells me everything I need to know about Hollywood. Part of it’s true and part of it isn’t.”
He laughed. “You have good friends, Sarah Booth. I was watching you sleep and thinking that I’ve neglected to make those connections. I wonder if it’s a gender thing or if I’ve failed somehow.”
It was true that a lot of men never built friendships. Many developed “couple” friendships. “You’d probably be surprised at the people who count you as a friend.”
He stood up and came to the bed. “I’ve been all about work or a romantic relationship. I want to have friends, like you.”
I touched his face lightly, the evening stubble rough under my palm. “I’ll be your friend.”
He looked so innocent-before his fingers found the ticklish places along my ribs and hips.
Screaming and struggling to get away from him, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was familiar ground for us. We rough-housed like kids, a trick way to experience the pleasure of physical intimacy. When at last I was panting for air, Graf pulled me into his arms and held me gently.
For a long moment we stayed that way before he let me go and stood up from the bed. “You’re the hardest test I’ve ever met.”
I only nodded. “I think coffee sounds good.” We had to get out of the bedroom. The attraction between us was impossible to ignore.
“I’ll go start it. Meet you in the kitchen.”
Graf walked out of the room and I realized Sweetie Pie was still snoring. Some watchdog.
I put on jeans and a T-shirt and started down the hallway. The house was still quiet. In the morning everyone, including the caterers and set builders with their saws and drills, would be back.
Halfway down the upstairs hall, I had the sense that someone was watching me, but when I looked, the hall was empty, the hardwood floors shining in the peachy light. Maybe I was missing Jitty and hoping for a ghost.
As I started across the foyer, I heard voices raised in anger.
“You were responsible for Mother’s death. No matter what you say, you were at the bottom of it.”
The voice was young and female and filled with bitter emotion. I hesitated. It was coming from Federico’s room. The door was open, and if the people arguing wanted privacy, they should have shut it.
“You can’t begin to know what really happened.” Federico’s response was calm, sorrowful.
“Mother was so unhappy. You made her unhappy. That’s why she overdosed. This is at your feet, Father.”
Estelle was in the house again, and no happier than she’d been the day before.
“In one way, you’re correct, Estelle. I am partially to blame for this situation right now. When you were younger, I did everything I could to protect you. I didn’t always tell you the truth, because it was so painful.”
“The truth! You wouldn’t know the truth if it walked up and spit in your face.”
“I can see you’ve inherited your mother’s temper as well as her theatrics.”
There was the sound of something breaking. “Mother doesn’t want you in this house. She’ll make sure you don’t stay. What happened to that prop man is only the beginning.”
“You should leave, Estelle. Before you say something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
“Make me! This will be my house. Mother meant for me to have it. She wouldn’t want you and that filthy slut in here. I want all of you out!”
“I’m calling the security team. I’m having you removed, Estelle. This will be your house one day. Until then, I have a movie to make and I can’t afford for you to do harm to yourself or anyone else. Leave now or I’ll have you removed.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Apparently he would dare, and he did. Not a minute later the front door opened and two burly men wearing blue uniforms with “PSA” embroidered on the chest came forward. They each wore a utility belt with what looked like Mace or pepper spray and batons attached.
I moved down the hall, pausing in the kitchen door, where I could hear the kettle Graf had put on whistling away.
“You bastard!” Estelle’s angry scream came just as Graf lifted the kettle. I heard it clatter to the range top, and he was beside me in an instant.
“Take your hands off me!” Estelle, in the grip of the two security guards, was being dragged from her father’s room and down the hall.
“You’ll pay, Father! You’ll pay the ultimate price for this! Mother won’t allow it! You and that whore will pay, just like the last one did!”
“Take her off the property and release her,” Federico told the guards. “Estelle, I’m calling Senor Martinez. If you step foot on this property again, you will be arrested and put in jail, where you’ll remain until the filming here is complete. Don’t make me do this.”
She was escorted out of the house. The door slammed shut, and Federico was left standing alone in the hallway.
I pushed Graf back into the kitchen. Federico had enough on his plate without knowing that members of his cast had witnessed a terrible fight with his daughter.
“Holy shit,” Graf whispered, “that was intense.”
Graf hadn’t heard the entire fight like I had. Several things were troubling me as I sat at the kitchen table. Graf placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of me and then took a chair.
“You look really worried, Sarah Booth.”
I was. Several times Estelle made reference to her mother as if the woman were still alive. She wasn’t-as far as I knew. Carlita Marquez had died of an overdose years back. Or that was the scuttlebutt. “Estelle seems seriously… unbalanced.” The idea of her walking so quietly into my room was upsetting.
“She won’t get back on the property. I’m glad to see Federico hired security.”
“This was Estelle’s mother’s home. She knows it inside and out. Do you think Estelle was making reference to the death of Suzy Dutton when she said that about paying like the last one did?”
“Sarah Booth, don’t borrow trouble.” He picked up my hand and kissed it. “You’re a movie star now. At least for the time being. You’ve taken down your shingle as a private investigator. If Estelle was involved in Suzy’s death, let Sheriff King in California handle it.” He kissed my hand again. “Besides, if I’m not mistaken, Estelle was here in Costa Rica. Hard to kill a woman in Malibu when you’re a continent away.”
“Good point.” And it was. I sipped my coffee. Graf had hit the nail on the head. I wasn’t Sarah Booth Delaney, PI. I was Sarah Booth Delaney, star of
