Carolyn Haines - Wishbones

“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 Body Heat. One bitter lesson I’d learned in the last few years was that a person has to focus on what she wants. I couldn’t keep one foot in the world of detecting and another in acting. I had made my choice and I owed it to myself and Graf to give it one hundred percent.

Estelle was a disturbed young woman. I could pity her, and her father, but it wasn’t up to me to solve what had happened to Suzy Dutton.

“Let’s take a walk, Sarah Booth. Then we can go into town and have a nice dinner.”

I looked across at the man who was doing everything in his power to make me happy. I’d waited such a long time for this moment. “Sounds perfect, Graf. I’m ravenous.”

It was a good thing Graf and I took a long walk, because when we got to the small restaurant and the delicious meal was placed in front of me, I ate like a politician at the trough. Graf was even amused. He teased me gently, and then ordered a rich and chocolaty dessert that was incredible. The man was spoiling me rotten, and I loved every second of it. No one except my parents had ever treated me with such love.

We were laughing as we walked up the cobbled street outside the café. I was slightly tipsy from wine, and Graf had proposed a skinny-dipping session in the calmer waters of the small cove behind Federico’s mansion. The moon sparkled on the glassy water and silvered the sand.

I was reluctant, but I wasn’t going to say no-until he got naked. Then I intended to snatch up his clothes and run. It was going to be payback for the tickle session earlier in the day. I was buzzed, but I hadn’t forgotten that Graf had one-upped me.

We passed the drive to the mansion, and I glanced toward the house. My heart stopped. The silhouette of a man, backlit by the house lights, made my heart flip. Coleman Peters. I recognized the broad shoulders, the tapered waist. Coleman had come to Costa Rica to find me.

“What’s wrong?” Graf asked. He, too, was slightly inebriated, but not enough that he missed the stricken look that surely touched my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The silhouette walked toward us with that self-confident stride. My heart pounded and my mouth was dry.

“Can I help you?” the man asked in English with a heavy Spanish accent.

I tried to speak but couldn’t. “No,” Graf said. “We’re going down to the beach before we turn in.”

The security guard nodded. “The cove is nice for swimming. Not the ocean. It isn’t safe.”

“Thank you.” Graf lightly grasped my arm and assisted me down the path. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I was dizzy for a moment.” I wanted to cry. Every time I thought I was beginning to heal from Coleman, something happened to rip the scab off and reveal the open wound.

It wasn’t fair. Not to me and certainly not to Graf.

“Let’s go skinny-dipping.” I put a challenge into my words. Before he could react, I stepped out of my sandals and I ran toward the beautiful beach of the small cove. I left my sundress and underwear in a trail behind me as I skimmed over grass and then sand, determined to leave behind the hurt and disappointment of Coleman Peters before I hit the cold embrace of the water.

Graf was beside me when I came up for air, sputtering and gasping. The water was cold silk sliding over my body. Graf’s hands, when he grasped my waist, were warm and familiar.

I turned to him and kissed him, blotting out everything except him and the freedom of the water.