Mace, how do you think my award would look on that shelf where I have all my ceramic cows right now? I could move the cows next to the gingham-collared ducks in the kitchen … but that would put the symmetry all off, wouldn’t it? You know, since the cows are bigger than the ducks. So, maybe I’ll move the ducks to that shelf with the bunny rabbits, since they’re about the same size. Then again, ducks live in the water, and the rabbits don’t even like to swim, so that doesn’t seem to make sense …
When I saw a re-energized C’ndee, waving me over toward the exit of the tent, I made my getaway, mid-discourse. I don’t even think Mama noticed. As I left, she was musing on the possibility of Sal building her Oscar statuette its very own shelf.
“I saved a piece of cake for Carlos,’’ C’ndee said, as she wiped down a table. “Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him all day.’’
I shrugged. “Probably at Kelly’s trailer, ‘interviewing’ the movie star some more.’’
C’ndee gave me a sharp look. “Oh, no. Are the on-again-off-again lovers off again?’’
I sighed.
“Why don’t the two of you get married, so you can make each other miserable full time?’’ she asked.
She picked up some stray plastic plates. I followed with a handful of dirty cups. “Spoken like a woman with two ex-husbands,’’ I said.
“Still two shy of your mother’s record.’’
“Yeah, but only if you count the one who died as an ex,’’ I said.
We dumped the garbage, and I helped her heft the big trash bags onto a trailer that would transport them to the county dump.
“How about your rodeo cowboy? What happened to him?’’
“He fell off the wagon big time last night. Plus, Jeb is not my cowboy.’’
“Whatever you say, Mace.’’
I gave one last glance around the tent. Still no Tilton. Mama had cornered one of the grips, and was yakking away, probably grilling him as to how to build a shelf that would support an eight-and-a-half-pound Academy Award.
“Well, I’m off to visit the horses,’’ I said. “If that drunken, shiftless cowboy hasn’t shown, I’m going to have to see to his cattle, too.’’
“If you spot Toby on your way, tell him I saved some cake for him.’’
“Toby hasn’t been around?’’
“Not many of the cast has. I think everybody’s getting ready for that wrap party tonight.’’
“Want me to tell Jesse you’ve got a piece of cake for her, too?’’ I grinned at C’ndee.
“Ha!’’ The word shot from her mouth. “I wouldn’t give that little witch a single crumb if she was starving. I bet we find out she’s the one who killed Norman Sydney, and caused all the trouble on this movie set since then. Little Miss Jesse is definitely the murdering type.’’
Given C’ndee’s family connections, she ought to know. Even so, I disagreed. Jesse’s father dedicated himself to saving lives as a doctor. His daughter might be shallow and messed up, but I just couldn’t picture her intentionally taking a life.
“I’m just glad we never had a second murder,’’ I said. “It’s almost over. Aside from Norman, it seems like the rest of us will get out of this okay.’’
C’ndee made the sign of the cross so fast, her hand was a blur. “Don’t say that, Mace. You’ll jinx us. Whenever you let down your guard, that’s when something bad happens.’’
A short time later, as I made my way along the wooded path to the corral, I thought about what C’ndee said. I vowed to keep up my guard until the last Hollywood star left Himmarshee.
_____
I slipped a halter over Rebel’s head, and ran a hand along his sturdy neck. “You’ve done a good job, boy. You know that?’’ He swished his tail. “I bet you’ll be happy to get back to working cattle, instead of working for the cameras, won’t you?’’
I knew I’d be glad to close the book on this movie job. Soon, all the horses would be loaded onto two trailers for their ride home. They still had to be fed and groomed. They’d go back to Rocking Horse Ranch looking just as good as when I got them.
I tried to call my sisters to ask them when I could expect them, but I couldn’t get a signal on my cell phone. Instead, I started on the chores that had to be finished.
Slipping an oversized metal comb out of my back pocket, I began loosening some knots in Rebel’s mane. The late-day sun warmed my back. I heard the buzzy call of a grasshopper sparrow, feeding in the pasture. The bird’s chirp-chirp zzzzttt kept time with the rhythm of grooming: Comb, chirp-chirp, comb, zzzzttt. Comb, chirp-chirp, comb, zzzzttt.
Suddenly, the sparrow’s song ceased. The sound of pounding footsteps, human footsteps, broke through my trance. I looked over the back of the horse, and out into the open pasture.
Greg Tilton loped toward the corral, arm lifted high and waving hello. “I’m so sorry, Mace,’’ he yelled. “I got to the food tent just after you left. Better late than never, right?’’
I returned my attention to the horse, not bothering to acknowledge Tilton. He’d caught me on a bad day for being disappointed by men. He pulled up short, outside the fence of the corral. “Are you mad at me?’’
“You were the one who begged to meet me. I waited around like a dummy. Let’s just say standing me up is not very ‘new Greg Tilton.’ It’s not nice.’’
He found the gate, opened it, and stepped through. “I’m sorry. I was on the phone with my agent. I couldn’t break away. I still want to talk to you, though. I need to talk to you.’’
C’ndee’s warning ran through my mind. Tilton’s clothes were too tight to be hiding a weapon. Even so, I planned to keep him in my full line of sight.
“If I hadn’t hung around waiting, I’d be an hour into my work by now.’’ I handed him a stiff-bristled Dandy brush I’d balanced on a fence post. “Make yourself useful while we talk.’’
I nodded at the Percheron tied on a lead rope to the fence. Tilton looked the huge horse up and down. “Are you sure the pony doesn’t need brushing instead?’’
“You want to talk, it’s the plow horse or nothing.’’
He went to work with barely a smirk, surprising me with how well he knew his way around the animal. “How’d you learn so much about horses?’’ I asked.
“The same foster home where I learned to hunt. The family kept all kinds of animals on a little farm; nothing as big as this ranch, though.’’
The word “farm’’ triggered a thought. Tilton had spent time on a farm. Vermin were common on farms.
“You know we never really talked much about that sandwich the raccoon got into,’’ I said. “Where’d it come from again?’’
“Like I told the cops, it was left at my trailer, in the fridge in a basket with some sodas, snacks, and sweets. The cops took the whole thing. I just assumed somebody from the production company brought it around to the stars’ trailers.’’
“Do you always eat food that shows up unexpectedly?’’
The brush in Tilton’s hand slowed, and then stopped. The Percheron stomped one huge hoof, splattering mud all over the movie star’s expensive-looking jeans. He scowled at the mud, and then narrowed his eyes at me.
“What are you getting at?’’ he asked.
“Did you have chores on the foster family’s farm?’’
“Yeah, all the kids did.’’
“Like what?’’ I asked.
“I helped clean the barn, feed the animals, and stuff like that.’’
“Do you ever remember seeing rats around the feed?’’
“Sure, but they put out bait to control them.’’
“Kill them, you mean. Was it strychnine?’’
“Yeah, I think so. Why?’’
Now, my hand went motionless, too. I willed my breathing to slow. I didn’t want Tilton to guess at the thoughts flying through my mind.
“Why?’’ he repeated.
When I didn’t answer, he laid the brush back on the fence post. Then he stepped toward me, closing the distance between us. The nearer he got, the harder it was for me to breathe. The air felt thick, laden with danger. When he spoke again, his voice was edged with threat.