Carolyn Haines - Wishbones

“You had a message written on the mirror in your house-”

“Bobby Joe Taylor’s house,” I reminded him.

“Telling you to go home. That sounds a bit personal to me.”

“I have no way of knowing if the message was directed at me. I told you that.”

There was a tap on the door and it opened to reveal Graf and Federico. The director looked slightly gray. The news of Suzy’s death must have hit him hard. They’d been a couple for nearly four years before they’d split up.

“Is it true?” he asked. “Suzy is really dead?”

“She is. Her neck was broken in a fall.” Sheriff King delivered the news without any attempt to soften it.

“This is terrible. What was she doing in that canyon?” Federico looked at each of us as if he hoped one of us could explain her death in a way that made sense.

“That’s what I intend to find out.” Sheriff King stood up. “You can go for now, Miss Delaney, but don’t leave the county.”

“Are you charging her?” Graf stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder. “This is absurd.”

Federico cleared his throat. “She must go, Sheriff. We’re set to begin shooting day after tomorrow in Petaluma, Costa Rica.”

Sheriff King’s eyes narrowed. “Very convenient.”

“The schedule was set months ago. The camera crews and set designers left this morning. Miss Delaney must go. Without her the filming will be halted. Each day of delay will cost thousands of dollars.” His shrug was eloquent. “If you have no real evidence against Miss Delaney, you must allow her to work. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to sue the county for any losses and damages to my film.”

King’s smile widened, and I was reminded of a barracuda. “You movie people think you’re above the law.”

“Do you have any grounds to charge Sarah Booth?” Graf asked. “What evidence do you have?”

Sheriff King gave him a calculated look. “Not enough. At least for the moment.”

Federico nodded and gave a courtly little bow. “Thank you, Sheriff. If you need her to come back to Los Angeles, we’ll see that she gets back. Until then, she needs to focus on her work.”

Graf offered me a hand to rise. His arm came around me protectively. “Sarah Booth wouldn’t harm a fly. Keep that in mind before you start making accusations you’re going to regret.”

“All of you get out of my office before I change my mind. The dog is waiting for you at the front door.”

I didn’t need another invitation. I meant to retrieve Sweetie Pie and get out of there. It was only when I was on the sidewalk, Sweetie’s leash in my hand, that I heeded Graf’s tug on my hand. He nodded to Federico, who was using one hand to support himself against the building.

“Can we do something to help?” Graf asked him.

He shook his head. “It’s the shock. Suzy was very special to me.”

“You were together for several years.” Thanks to Millie’s penchant for reading the celebrity magazines, I knew my share of Tinseltown dish.

“Do you really think someone pushed her off a cliff?” Federico asked me. The idea of such a thing brought him great pain.

“It could have been an accident. That’s what I tried to tell the sheriff. Those trails are steep and difficult. I’ve 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 canapés.

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.”