almost fallen a few times.”
“But what was she doing in Lettohatchie Canyon?” he asked. “She had no friends there. Suzy wasn’t the kind of woman who would go hiking, and certainly not alone. Why was she even there?”
“Did she know Bobby Joe Taylor?” I asked.
Federico’s eyes widened. “Perhaps. It’s possible he was writing a script for her.” The relief that touched his features told me a lot about his feelings for Suzy. He might have broken up with her and pulled the role of Matty out from under her, but he still cared about her.
“But if she was looking for Bobby Joe, why didn’t she come to the front door and knock? Why would she be hiking around the canyon?” Graf looked from me to Federico.
I didn’t have an answer, so I kept my mouth shut. It occurred to me that Jitty would be astounded and proud at this most recent display of maturity.
“Suzy often did things the hardest way possible,” Federico said with sadness. “When we were seeing each other, she wouldn’t ask a simple question. She created these complicated scenarios.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sure the autopsy report will answer some of our questions. I’m just sorry that the last time I spoke with her was so long ago.”
“When was that?” I asked. The question flew out of my mouth.
“I saw her at M.M.’s party, but we didn’t get a chance to talk.”
That was an outright lie. “King implied that you’d promised the role of Matty to Suzy. Is that true?”
“Sarah Booth, you got the role because you earned it.” Federico straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders. “I never promised Suzy the role of Matty. She assumed it would be hers. Now I should get back to the set and you two get some rest. Tomorrow, Sarah Booth, you’ll be flying to Costa Rica, and we begin filming the very next day.”
I started to say something to Graf about Federico’s shading of the truth. I’d heard him talking to Suzy. Arguing with Suzy. And she’d claimed he promised her the role. But as I turned to tell Graf, he kissed me. Concerns about Federico’s messy relationship with Suzy Dutton were scorched from my mind.
By the time we got up the mountain to the house, both Graf and I had regained our senses. We studiously avoided any physical contact-even eye contact-and began the job of packing. We were both excited about going to Costa Rica. Federico had some family ties there, and we were filming the seduction and scenes between Matty and Ned and the murder scenes at an old family home. Between the excitement and the kiss we’d shared, I feared one or both of us were candidates for spontaneous combustion. We managed to steer clear of each other for the remainder of the night. The power of our attraction had frightened both of us, I think. Opening Pandora’s box while we were acting together was dangerous.
Federico had hired a private plane for the entire cast, and we celebrated and drank our way across Mexico and into Central America. A shadow of sadness followed Federico, but he didn’t mention Suzy to me, and I decided not to bring up her name. So they’d had an argument. I’d had plenty of them with friends, lovers, and even a ghost. That didn’t mean I would be involved in violence.
Besides, I was certain that Suzy had accidentally fallen to her death. That was the only explanation that made sense.
The house at Petaluma was nothing less than spectacular-ochre stucco with a red tile roof, an interior courtyard complete with the most interesting sculptures of various Greek goddesses, enormous bedrooms lavishly appointed, and a staff that met us with trays of mojitos and canapes.
My room had a marble fireplace, and above it a magnificent portrait of a beautiful woman in a red gown, dark- haired with eyes of fire. She looked like someone I would have enjoyed knowing. I was about to unpack my luggage when I heard someone behind me.
A young woman stood in the middle of the room, her slender legs encased in breeches and boots. Her hair, lush and thick, was contained in an elegant French twist, and her white riding shirt was starched and immaculate. She’d opened the door and entered without me hearing her.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” the young woman asked, nodding to the portrait.
“She is.”
“Her name was Carlita Gonzalez Marquez.”
“Federico’s wife?” I guessed.
“Federico has led a very interesting life.” She spoke with contempt. “You should ask him sometimes. This was her home, a wedding gift to both of them from her father, Estoban Gonzalez.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Some people say it’s haunted.”
I couldn’t tell if she was challenging me or not. “My home in Mississippi is also haunted. I think ghosts are drawn to me.”
Her face hardened. “Don’t humor me as if I were a child. If the film company stays here, you’ll get more of a ghost story than you ever bargained for.”
She swiveled and strode out of the room, her boots ringing on the stone hallway and then clattering down the stairs. I was about to turn to my luggage when the sheer curtains at the bedroom window puffed on a gust of wind. They took the shape of a slender female form before settling back against the wall.
Gooseflesh danced up my arms, causing me to inhale sharply. I exhaled, feeling foolish to have been so easily caught up in the ghost story of a young woman I didn’t even know.
“Jitty would be amused,” I said, wondering with a stab of pain if Jitty remained at Dahlia House or if she’d gone on to other lodgings. I had the strangest urge to call home, but I knew she wouldn’t answer. So instead I dialed Tinkie.
“Hey,
“Sarah Booth, you’ve finally found the Lord and are speaking in tongues. Do you need rescue or deprogramming or some holy water?”
“That’s Spanish,” I pointed out.
“Spanish by way of the cotton field. I don’t know what you think you said, but it wasn’t anything translatable.”
I laughed. “I’m unpacking here in Petaluma, and we’re all set to film tomorrow. This place is magnificent. It’s like a huge old plantation set down in a tropical paradise. One of the staff said I could see the ocean from my balcony.” I started toward the windows to see if the Pacific would wink at me. Just as I reached the open window, the outside shutters slammed together with enough force to make me jump backward and drop the phone.
“What was that? Sarah Booth, are you okay?”
I could hear Tinkie yammering away, but I ignored the phone and eased to the shutters. When I looked at them I saw that the latches used to hold them open had both broken. Simultaneously.
I picked up the phone. “Everything is fine. Just a gust of wind.”
“Well, I’m glad you called, since we’ve all been wondering about your latest scrape with the law.”
I groaned. “Finding the body of Suzy Dutton?”
“Front page of at least three tabloids. Millie has the story plastered all over the cafe. Harold and Oscar are on standby in case you need to hire a defense lawyer. Really, Sarah Booth, implicated in the case of another dead rival?”
“Oh, shut up. You sound like the sheriff.”
“Is it the uniform, or perhaps the nightstick?”
“Tinkie!” I was suitably shocked. “You sound like Cece.”
“I have to confess, she said it first.”
“I’m okay. I didn’t have anything to do with Suzy Dutton’s death. We start shooting in the morning, and if I can resist Graf tonight, we should have enough sexual tension between us by morning to melt the silver out of the celluloid. Would you mind asking Millie what she knows about Carlita Gonzalez Marquez, former wife of my director Federico?”
“Will do. Call me when you finish shooting tomorrow. I want a blow-by-blow account.”
“What are friends for?” I asked before I hung up.
I walked outside on the balcony for a closer examination. The metal latches that secured the shutters to the wall were snapped in half. Strange that both sides had failed at the exact same moment. Or perhaps they’d been broken and a gust of wind had caught them just right.
