Carolyn Haines - Wishbones

“What did Madame Tomeeka say?” Millie had me worried. The movie was having difficulty, but the actual filming was incredible. I was my own worst critic, and I thought the dailies were superb.

“Tammy talks in riddles.”

She was hedging. “What did she say?”

“That your parents would guide you in the right decision.”

That took my breath away. Since their deaths in a car accident when I was twelve, I’d dreamed and fantasized about their reaction to the accomplishments and disappointments of my life. No matter how hard I’d imagined or prayed, I’d received no clear word from the Great Beyond regarding their wishes or opinions of my plans.

Jitty didn’t count, because she had her own agenda, normally involving viable male sperm and a screaming baby on my hip.

“Did she say my parents would tell me something?”

“Oh, Sarah Booth, that’s not what she said at all, and I sure didn’t mean to imply anything like that. I know how much you miss them.”

No point denying it. I did. “I’d give anything for ten minutes to talk with them.”

“Tammy said they were with you, protecting you.”

My heart was filled with sadness. “That’s a good thing to know. Thank her for me.” It didn’t answer a question, but it did give me hope that someone was somehow looking out for me.

“So what else did you find out about Federico?”

“The good stuff was back in the archives of some of the magazines. A place you might start is with Vince Day.”

“The French director who did all of those terrific post-apocalyptic films?”

“That’s him. He and Federico were like brothers at one time. Then there was a falling out-over Carlita. The gist of what I could find out was that Vince and Carlita had an affair, and there was talk that Estelle wasn’t Federico’s child.”

“Holy cow. That puts an entirely different spin on Estelle’s attitude toward Federico.”

“It sure does. And from what I could read between the lines, it seemed Carlita never really cared for Vince. She used him to taunt Federico with her infidelity. But the end result was that Vince’s wife left him. The whole thing with Carlita-whatever it was-destroyed his family.”

Hollywood could be a vicious town, where personal lives played out in public. “And yet Federico took Carlita back and raised Estelle as his own.” This was the total opposite of the gossip about Federico’s marital flings-but it could also explain Carlita’s self-hatred. What was the real story, though?

“That would seem to be the case. But that’s what you need to find out-the truth about Federico and Carlita’s past.”

Millie was smart. What got printed in a celebrity gossip magazine in the eighties and early nineties would be only the tip of the iceberg. In those days, there was some restraint by the media, some assumption that a celebrity had a right to a private life. And also the celebrities made an effort not to expose themselves and their emotions in front of cameras.

“Millie, thanks so much for digging this up.”

“My pleasure, Sarah Booth. It gave me a chance to look back on some of the best moments in film and my life. Back in the eighties, I was a pretty hot chick.”

“You’re still a pretty hot chick,” I said, “but one with a lot of wisdom.”

“When is Tinkie coming home? Oscar is here at the café for every meal, and I’ll bet his cholesterol is off the charts. The man doesn’t eat anything unless it’s fried.”

That didn’t sound good. “She’ll be home soon.”

“And you?”

“We still have a lot of filming to do, but as soon as I’m finished, I’ll be home to see my friends and my house and my horse.”

“You are a star, Sarah Booth. Your dream came true, and that’s something very special.”

“Good-bye, Millie. I love you.”

I hung up just as Graf and Tinkie clattered down the stairs.

“Find anything interesting?” I asked.

They shook their heads.

“And we couldn’t get into the locked rooms on the third floor. Shall I get a key from Federico?” Graf looked handsome and ready for action.

“I think it can wait,” Tinkie said. “I’d like to have a copy of the keys to those rooms so we can periodically check them, but let’s not disturb Federico and Jovan.”

“Something strange is going on in those rooms,” I agreed. “Keys would be good. We’ll talk to Federico tomorrow.”

I started to tell them what Millie told me, but it was nearly six o’clock. Filming would start soon, and neither Graf nor I had had much sleep.

“Let’s grab some shut-eye and come up with a plan in the morning when Tinkie gets back with the blueprints of the house,” Graf suggested. He put his arm around me. “We’ll find that ghost or woman or whoever she is, Sarah Booth, and once we do, we’ll find out what’s really going on around here.”

The next morning, we were all yawning for the confrontation, with Ned finally seeing the possibility of an awful truth-that he’d been played by the love of his life. But once the cameras were on and Federico yelled “action,” we came alive. Tinkie watched for a while before she took off for Petaluma and the architect.

When I wasn’t needed on-camera, I studied Graf and Jovan. Their performances were nuanced and strong. I had wondered if Jovan was a good actress or if Federico had thrown her a bone because she was his love interest. I should never have underestimated him. She was good. And she played well off Graf, who was nothing less than stunning. Watching him as the truth dawns, I could almost see his brain churning toward the reality of Matty and yet not wanting to believe it.

When Federico finally called “cut,” everyone applauded. I wasn’t needed in the next scenes, which were between Ned and the little-ole bomb maker played by Ashton Kutcher. I only wished Millie could be there. She was a huge fan of the young man.

I went up to my room, doing my best to avoid falling into the bed. I was tired, but there were things to be done. And the one person who could help me needed to put in an appearance.

I closed and locked my bedroom door. “Jitty!” I whispered, but it was a loud one. “Jitty! I need you.” While she might ignore my demands, she would never ignore a plea for help.

I walked around the room, waiting.

“Jitty, this is serious!” Hell, she didn’t have to fly over from Zinnia. She was a ghost. She could just materialize, so what was keeping her?

I saw a form on the balcony outside my window, and my heart skipped a beat. Someone was out there. I’d locked the windows and my door before Graf and I left the room. So who was it?

The figure crossed the window, a shapely silhouette in a long, dark gown. The elusive woman in red! I hurried to the French doors and yanked them open, determined to find out who was playing such a dangerous game.

Jitty, wearing a blond wig and a long, sleek black gown that hugged her bodacious curves, put one gloved hand on her hip. Her other hand held a long, slender cigarette holder and a glowing fag.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you glad to see me?” she asked, a perfect imitation of Mae West. She strutted past me into the room.

“Jitty!”

“You called, didn’t you?”

“I thought you were the ghost.” My heart was still pounding.

“I am. So what’s going on?”

“Can you tell if there’s another spirit in this house?”

She looked at me as if I’d suddenly grown a large, cabbage-shaped tumor on the side of my head. “Sarah Booth, I’m not a medium like James van Praagh or John Edward.”

“I didn’t ask you to communicate with the ghost. I just need to know if there’s one here in the house, or if the things that are happening are from a human source.”