of the house, or even threaten. But she would not harm anyone.”
“How can you be so certain?” I asked.
“Because I know her. I love her. It’s as simple as that.”
And perhaps it was-or not. Because Daniel believed her, he might not have been as vigilant in watching her as he should have.
“You’re positive you haven’t seen or heard from Estelle since that time you escorted her from the building?”
The way he licked his lips was a dead giveaway. He was going to lie.
“I haven’t,” he said.
“Thanks, Daniel.” There was no point backing him against the wall, but I believed Estelle had been in the house-and that Daniel Martinez knew it.
The only thing I knew for certain was that the security forces hired to protect all of us were not as effective as Federico thought.
I left the guard shack and was standing in the pool of light when Tinkie and Graf came tearing down the driveway, ready for dinner.
When we returned, I would talk with Federico. Perhaps I would seal my fate as an actress. But I had to do it.
Graf pulled me into his arms and kissed me, long and thoroughly. My body yearned to yield to him and forget the chore I’d set for myself. When we’d come in after dinner, Federico’s door was closed, and there was no sign that he or Jovan had been in the kitchen. They were most probably sound asleep.
Graf and I were in the hallway outside my room. I’d hoped that he would wait for me in bed while I had a talk with Federico, but Graf had other ideas.
Tinkie had gone to her room, full of a wonderful seafood dinner. Chablis was healing, and she knew she’d be winging her way back to the Mississippi Delta in little more than a day. Graf was of the opinion that we’d done all we could for the moment. He wanted to make love to me-an option that was becoming more and more difficult to resist.
“Sarah Booth, come to bed,” he whispered in my ear, knowing full well the effect it would have on me. Shivers raced along my skin. Graf was not above applying unfair tactics.
“Give me ten minutes,” I said.
“No.” He kissed my neck, moving up to my earlobe. “Come to bed.”
He was turning me from a responsible actress/private investigator into a wanton. My will crumbled, and I put my arms around his neck, kissing him back. As much as I wanted to talk to Federico about his past with Vincent Day, I wanted Graf more.
I found the doorknob of my room with one hand, opened it, and pulled Graf inside. The night was warm, and the doors to the balcony were open. The curtains puffed on the breeze, and for one indefinable moment I thought I saw the figure of a woman in the billowing material. But then it was gone, and I gave Graf every shred of my attention. I meant to bring Graf to his knees, literally. And I spent the next hour doing just that.
After Graf had fallen asleep, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jitty and her insistence that Graf and I would have a beautiful child. Graf had mentioned wanting children. I’d always assumed that I would have one eventually. Or maybe two. Not more than that.
My parents had had only me, and once I’d asked Loulane why. She’d frowned and said, rather sharply, I thought at the time, that my mother said that once she achieved perfection, there was no need to try again. The memory of that conversation made me smile. Aunt Loulane was never one to give out such bounteous praise. She was afraid she’d spoil me and I would become worthless, or worse.
Graf turned in his sleep, and I shifted so that I spooned against him. It was funny how love came in such different varieties. I had loved Coleman, but it was different from the love that was growing for Graf. Coleman was arid soil. No matter how much I’d cared for him, nothing could grow there. Not that he didn’t care for me. I understood that he did. But not enough to change his life or give up his idea of who he was. Honor had claimed him, and kept him tied to Connie and her lies. There was no room to grow the love that had sprouted between us.
I heard the jingle of silver bracelets, and I was aware that Jitty was in the bedroom. I pulled the sheet up to my shoulders, causing her to give a low chuckle.
“I’ve seen you in your birthday suit since the day you were born,” she said.
“You can’t be in here,” I hissed at her. “This is private time.”
“Graf sleeps sounder than that hound dog. He won’t never know we had a chat.”
“I’m not in the mood for a chat.” All I needed was for Graf to wake up and hear me talking to what he would assume was myself. Psycho ward for sure-right beside Estelle. And perhaps that was why I had such sympathy for her, I suddenly realized. She wanted to be haunted, and I was.
“How long does it take cotton to grow?” Jitty asked.
I couldn’t get a good look at her. The room was too dark. “Why are you asking that now?”
“Just tryin’ to calculate the maturation of a crop.”
I scooched up in the bed and turned on the light. Something was amiss with Jitty. She wore her bracelets, but she wasn’t decked out in some film star’s costume. She was wearing my old sweats and a T-shirt that advertised a local Zinnia blues club, Playin’ the Bones. She hardly ever abandoned her costume theme. Clothes defined her.
“You’ve never been interested in cotton before,” I pointed out.
“Crops have caught my interest. I like the idea of things growin’.” She laughed again.
“You’re not talking about cotton.” I saw to the heart of her question. “You’re talking about a baby.”
“The finest crop you could grow, Sarah Booth. A future Delaney. Someone to carry on the name and add to the fine tradition of the line.”
“Don’t get the cart ahead of the horse. Graf and I are just getting to know each other. We want time to explore each other. We-”
“Just made love.”
“I’m not stupid,” I told her. “I take care of that.”
Her only response was another laugh that faded into the shadows of the room.
“Sarah Booth! Sarah Booth!” Graf’s voice came to me, his hand lightly shaking my arm. “Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”
When I finally opened my eyes, he’d switched on the lamp and was sitting on the edge of the bed. Relief made him smile. “You were thrashing and shaking your head and saying, ‘No, no, it’s not true.’ What were you dreaming?”
I took a deep breath. “I was being deviled by the ghost of a family member.” I yawned and sank back into the pillows. “But don’t worry, I’ll get even with her tomorrow.”
Graf laughed. “You’re still half asleep. You’ve got ghosts on the brain.”
“And bats in the belfry,” I answered before I fell back to sleep, content in the knowledge that Graf was right beside me.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Because movies aren’t shot in sequential order, I’d focused solely on projecting Matty’s emotions in each scene that involved her character. On this last day of shooting, Tinkie and I had parked our chairs behind the cameras to watch. My work in Petaluma was done. I had no more scenes until we started again in Los Angeles.
“I don’t know how you keep up with where you are,” Tinkie said. “And I certainly don’t know how someone edits everything together to tell a story.”
“I just do it one scene at a time and let Federico worry with stitching it into a seamless story.” And novice though I was in the business, I could clearly see his genius. He had an ability to conclude a scene with a sound or image that would connect viscerally to the next moment of the story. Whether it was technique or style or simply the way he saw the story, it was brilliant. To do it, though, he had to know in his head how everything would fit together.
