I ran into Graf’s arms with enough force to make him stagger.
“Sarah Booth.” He hugged me tight. “What’s wrong?”
“I scared myself.” It was as close to the truth as I would go. While I hadn’t hesitated to tell him about the woman in the red dress who seemed to haunt Federico’s house, I wasn’t about to tell him about Jitty.
He eased me back so he could look into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t learn much from Dallas or Sally. They’ve heard noises, but nothing that really bothered them.” His beautiful eyes twinkled. “But Tinkie hit pay dirt.”
I didn’t want to look away from Graf. In his eyes I glimpsed an extraordinary image of myself. I was valuable, desirable, necessary. I liked that reflection far better than the one in my mirror. Graf saw the best in me and ignored the rest. What a wonderful gift.
I’d held back, but I needed to tell him something. I could make no guarantees, but I could be honest. “Graf, each day my heart opens a little more to you.”
He kissed me lightly. “I have no great faith that somehow I won’t screw this up. But I am trying.”
“Me, too.” It was all we could ask of each other, and the possibilities were terrifying. I changed the subject to something more manageable. “What did Tinkie find?”
“I’ll let her tell you.” He escorted me to the kitchen where Tinkie was whirling up a blender of celebratory margaritas. She met me with a full-wattage smile that reminded me of expensive orthodontic procedures.
“What did you find out?” I asked as I took a glass of “that frozen concoction” and passed one to Graf.
Tinkie licked the salt from the rim and arched one eyebrow-a newly acquired trait. “Federico said there was a floor plan for this house at an architect’s in Petaluma. I called, but the office had already closed for the day. Tomorrow morning while you’re filming, I’ll visit Senor Lopez and pick up a copy of the plans.”
“Tinkie! That’s perfect.” I checked my watch. It was six o’clock, which meant it would be four in Los Angeles. “I’m going to call Sheriff King and check on Suzy Dutton’s autopsy report. It’s peculiar that we haven’t heard a word from him. I figured for sure he’d have me taken back to the States in chains.”
“You do have a way with lawmen, Sarah Booth.” Tinkie turned on the blender to whip up another round of drinks, effectively blocking my reply.
While I took the telephone to the front hallway to make my call, she turned ice cubes into delicious tequila slush.
Sheriff King was leaving his office when my call went through, but he took it. My first question was direct and to the point about Suzy’s autopsy.
“Well, well, Miss Delaney. It isn’t every day that a suspect calls to check in with me.”
“Have you gotten the autopsy report on Suzy Dutton?” I asked for the second time.
“I’m trying to keep the coroner’s ruling out of the press,” he said, “but I don’t reckon you’ll be spreading the news. Word all over Los Angeles is that your movie is cursed. Rumors abound, and most of them center on your director. Folks are saying some of his past deeds are coming home to roost.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Talk like that isn’t good for a movie.”
“I wouldn’t have believed that the sheriff of a California county would be susceptible to ghost stories and curses.” I couldn’t help myself. King brought out the very worst in my antiauthoritarian nature.
“I’ve been in law enforcement long enough to know that sometimes the factual explanation defies logic. Bad luck is the same as a curse, except a curse makes for better headlines.”
“Right, and the boogeyman is haunting the cast and crew.” I had to force the sarcasm into my voice, but I wasn’t going to let King know he was getting to me. He was a smug bastard. “What did the autopsy determine?”
“I don’t have to tell you this, but I will. It was a homicide. She was pushed.”
“How did the coroner come to that conclusion?” I wasn’t questioning the coroner, but I was curious.
“He found grass and dirt under her fingernails. She clung to the cliff. Her knuckles were scraped and bruised-”
“As if someone stepped on her hands?” I couldn’t keep the shock out of my voice.
“More like stomped them with cleated hiking boots.”
That was even more horrific. “Who would do such a thing?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. We’ve questioned Bobby Joe Taylor at length, and though he knew Suzy, he doesn’t believe she was visiting him. They’d had an argument about a movie script and she wasn’t speaking to him. He also says the note on the mirror wasn’t directed at him, that he’d given up his womanizing ways and had been dating his current girlfriend exclusively.”
“And what else did you expect him to say?” Was King slow or just determined to devil me? He believed everyone except me. Because he was determined that Federico was guilty of something?
King’s voice was lazy. “I figure most all of you actor types will lie to cover your asses, so I didn’t expect anything else.”
“If I were involved in Suzy’s death, do you think I’d be calling right now?”
“You would if you were smart and trying to look innocent.”
There was no way to win with King. “Do you have any other suspects except for me and Federico?”
He hesitated, and I wondered if he was actually going to be honest with me.
“Who?” I pressed.
“There were several phone calls made to Ms. Dutton’s home. The calls came from pay phones in the Malibu area.”
“I didn’t-”
“Your actions for the specific times when the calls were made have been accounted for. You were on the set and filming. You and Marquez have alibis, so don’t bother professing your innocence.”
Even when he was being sort of nice, King was a pill. “So who else is a suspect?” I deliberately withheld Estelle’s name. I couldn’t decide if I was trying to protect Federico, or if I simply wasn’t comfortable pointing the finger of blame at a young woman who was already emotionally troubled. It was possible that Estelle made those calls to Suzy, but the bottom line was that only circumstance seemed to implicate Estelle. I had no real evidence that she’d done anything wrong except tinker with her father’s cameras-and that was hearsay from her brother. I knew what it felt like to be falsely accused, and I didn’t want to inflict that on someone as delicate as Estelle.
“We’re working on it.”
“Sheriff, have you determined a motive for Suzy’s death? I mean, looking at it from my point of view, why would I kill her when I already have the part?”
Silence stretched between us. At last he spoke. “You might not have as much to gain as Marquez, when it comes right down to it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said sweetly, “but what does Federico have to gain from the death of a former girlfriend?”
“Oh, I’d say there could be numerous answers to that question. Marquez is something of a legend in the Hollywood Hills. A lot of people had scores to settle with him, and maybe Suzy Dutton was trying.”
Arguing with King was like spitting into the wind. “Am I still a suspect?”
“That sheriff in Sunflower County speaks highly of you, Miss Delaney. He assured me you were never a serious suspect in the murder of Renata Trovaioli, but that he had to arrest you because of the evidence that had been planted to frame you.”
Coleman was a day late and a dollar short with his explanations. But there was no point going into that with Grady King. “So am I off your suspect list?”
“Maybe.”
He was as thorny as a Devil’s Walking Stick. “I’ll take that as a yes. Sheriff, could you possibly check on Federico’s daughter, Estelle?” I gave him her Malibu address. “She’s been here in Petaluma, but she left Costa Rica suddenly yesterday and we’re concerned that we haven’t heard from her. She isn’t answering her phone.”