excruciating.”
There had been a girl in college who was rumored to suffer from anorexia. I never knew for certain, because her parents came and took her home. I only knew that in one semester’s time, she went from thin to skeletal.
“What did you tell Estelle about her death?”
“Estelle has always been self-conscious about her appearance. I was terrified if she knew her mother’s true illness that she would mimic Carlita. They were so close. In appearance and temperament and emotions. So I sent Estelle and Ricardo to boarding schools in the East. Toward the end, I never allowed them to come home. Not even for holidays. And when Carlita finally died, I told them she’d accidentally taken a drug overdose.”
“The coroner went along with this?”
He nodded slowly. “Which is perhaps why Sheriff King has no love for me. He feels I manipulated the system. That’s why I had to lie to him about Suzy. He wants me to be guilty of some atrocity. He thought I was hiding something criminal in Carlita’s death, but I was only protecting my children.”
I blew out a breath and sat on the edge of the chair facing his. “You shouldn’t have lied to Estelle and Ricardo.”
“Hindsight is crystal clear, isn’t it?”
“Right.” I wondered what the best thing to do might be. “Should we leave this house? Surely there are other locations…”
“We’d have to reshoot everything, and the budget won’t allow it. We’ll finish before long, and then Estelle will be satisfied. I will be gone from here.”
“Will that make her happy?” I asked the question gently. “She’s so angry, Federico. She comes and goes at will in the house. There are obviously ways in that the guards don’t know.”
“She grew up in this house as a young girl. I’m sure there are passages. Not even I know them. But her grandfather would have shown her. He designed and had the house built. He never approved of me.”
“Does Ricardo know the truth about his mother?”
He stood and walked to the mantel above the cold fireplace. He picked up a framed photograph I hadn’t noticed and handed it to me. It was his family, all four of them smiling and hugging each other.
“Ricardo suspects. But whatever he thinks, it doesn’t eat at him the way it does Estelle. He wasn’t that close to Carlita. He knew she was very sick. He came home one holiday, unexpected, and saw her. He never asked any questions, and I sent him back to school.”
“What a tragedy, Federico. I’m so sorry.”
“If you could have known Carlita, you would have been charmed by her. Everyone was. And yet she could never love herself.” He put the picture back. “But we must work tomorrow, Sarah Booth. You should rest, and I’ll do my best to prevent Estelle from harming anyone else.”
“And Jovan will accept this?” It didn’t seem like much vindication for her near-death fall.
“She will. She understands.”
“Estelle can’t continue to terrorize us. My friends are here-”
“I know. I’ll take care of it. Now get some rest.”
He walked me to the door and brushed a kiss on my cheek before he shut it.
I went upstairs, following the sound of laughter to Cece’s room. The gang was there, including Graf. They were waiting for me. I wasn’t home, but I was pretty damn close.
That night I dreamed of riding the little red roan along the sandy beach as the ocean crashed mightily into the shore. When we got to the rock formation, where the spray rose thirty feet into the air, my horse suddenly changed into a creature of foam, and I was riding the sea, almost a mermaid but not quite.
I awoke in the early hours to Sweetie’s gentle snores and the security of Graf’s arms around me. The curtains in the room blew lazily on a soft breeze. Not once did I see the shape of a woman’s body in them.
Outside were the sounds of the tropics, not the Delta. But my friends were all around me, and for that moment, I had happiness, peace, and contentment. My final thought before drifting back to sleep was that perhaps I’d begun to learn the Buddhist art of living in the moment. No mean feat for a Mississippi gal raised to gamble on the weather and a crop that was six months away.
The next morning, I woke Graf with a thousand kisses. I hadn’t meant to fall in love with him. I wasn’t sure that I had, but I had begun to trust the feelings that he stirred in me enough to at least explore them. There was the simple pleasure of the flesh. I was good with that one.
His body was a wonder to me. He was physical perfection, and I enjoyed looking and touching.
“I’ll bet your friends are up,” he whispered when we were both panting and sweating, spent from our efforts.
It was nine o’clock. Millie and Cece were up for sure. Tinkie-it was debatable. Unless she was on a case she liked the horizontal position in the morning.
“I’m starving,” Graf said, gently biting my shoulder.
“Me, too.” I didn’t know if it was the work, the tension, or the lovemaking, but I was hungry.
“Let’s see what’s for breakfast.” He slipped into his robe and held mine for me.
“Shall I bring you some breakfast in bed?” I asked.
“We can eat with your friends. I’ll find out the filming schedule for the day and let them know so they can plan to be on-set for the scenes they want to see.”
I smiled my thanks as we headed to the kitchen.
Halfway there I heard a burst of laughter. When we opened the door, Millie was flipping French toast and ten members of the cast, including heartthrob Ashton Kutcher, who was playing Teddy, the Mickey Rourke role of the bomb maker, were cheering and clapping.
“Sarah Booth, Graf, I thought I’d make breakfast,” Millie said. “Tinkie is eating in her room.”
“You can take the girl out of the kitchen, but you can’t take the kitchen out of the girl.” I took a seat at the huge table. “French toast? Yumm.”
“It’s wonderful,” five people assured me.
“I can have it anytime I want in Zinnia, Mississippi.” It was a point of pride.
By the time we finished eating, the kitchen was clear and I could ask Millie the questions that were on my mind. Graf excused himself and took the dogs out to the stables to check on the horses.
“What do you know about Carlita Marquez’s death?” I asked.
Millie was washing dishes and her hands paused in the suds, a sure sign she was thinking through the implications of my question.
“It was a long time ago.”
“Maybe twelve years.” I was guessing, but I was fairly close.
“She was the Latino bombshell, sort of the Spanish Marilyn Monroe. My God, she was beautiful, but you can see that in the portrait in your room.”
“Quit hedging and tell me what you know.”
“Her death was ruled accidental overdose. Or that was the official version, but everyone thought there was something else going on.”
“What in particular?”
“It was rumored that Federico was seeing a Danish actress. I don’t recall her name, Alana or Alissa or something like that. I’ll check. Anyway, there was talk.”
If that was true, no wonder Carlita came up short when she measured herself. If Federico was dallying with a tall blonde it would go a long way toward explaining Carlita’s image problems. The betrayed almost always assumes the blame-that’s the destructive part of betrayal.
“I need to find out if that’s true.” I’d learned how the media could take a simple thing and turn it into a big deal. Perhaps Federico and the blonde in question were only friends. Or perhaps there was no blonde, only ugly speculation.
“I can do some checking,” Millie said.
“How?” I was curious.
“I have membership in several different fan clubs. There are online lists where members are authorities on certain celebrities. I can post a question. If there’s a computer I can use.”
I shook my head. “Millie, you astound me. I’m sure I can find an Internet hookup among the cast and crew. Just be sure you erase your footsteps.”
