Bruno’s head jerked up. “It has? Are you sure?”
Judith was about to reassure Bruno when Winifred,
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39
with Dirk Farrar right behind her, opened the back
door. Bruno all but collapsed into Winifred’s arms.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
Judith grimaced. “Mr. Zepf saw a spider on the
porch.”
“Oh, no!” Winifred looked aghast. Dirk snickered.
“Does Mr. Zepf have arachnophobia?” Judith asked
as Bruno’s shudders subsided.
“Not exactly,” Winifred replied, patting Bruno on
the back as if he were a frightened child. “They’re bad
luck.” She managed to disentangle herself and took
Bruno’s hand. “Come inside, it’s quite safe.”
Dirk lingered at the door. “Twerp,” he muttered.
“Chickenhearted twerp.”
“Why are spiders bad luck?” Judith asked.
Dirk shrugged his broad shoulders. “Something to
do with a spider during the shooting of Bruno’s first
picture. Somehow, one got on the camera lens and ruined a perfect take. The crazy bastard’s never been the
same since.” He stopped and turned quickly to look
over his shoulder. No one was there. “Crazy like a fox,
maybe I should say.” With another shrug, Dirk Farrar
moved down the hallway.
Judith went back to the toolshed, where her mother
was still standing in the doorway.
“What caused that commotion?” Gertrude asked in
her raspy voice.
“The guest you were talking to doesn’t like spiders,”
Judith explained, steering her mother inside. “He’s
okay now. Say, what were you doing out in the rain?
Were you trying to come into the house?”
“Of course not,” Gertrude huffed. “Why would I do
that?”
40
Mary Daheim
Judith eased the old lady into the overstuffed chair
behind the card table. “You do sometimes.”
“When Lunkhead’s not there, maybe,” Gertrude allowed, then gave Judith a sly look. “I don’t see his car.
Maybe I wanted to meet those movie stars, like Francis X. Bushman and Clara Bow.”
Judith didn’t feel up to adding her mother to the already motley mix. “How about seeing them tomorrow
when they’re all dressed up and ready to leave for the
premiere?”
Gertrude flopped into the chair. “Tomorrow? I could
be dead by tomorrow.”
“You won’t be,” Judith assured her mother. “Besides, not all of them have arrived yet.”
Judging from the pinched expression on Gertrude’s
face, the effort to reach the house had tired her.
“Well—okay. Who’s still coming? Theda Bara?”
Judith gave her mother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Someone more recent. I’ll be back with your supper
in just a bit.”
The truth was, Judith hadn’t even begun to prepare
the family meal. Gertrude didn’t mind a TV dinner, but
Joe was another matter. As soon as the hors d’oeuvres
were served, she would start the evening meal.
Arlene, however, had already brought the appetizers
out to the guests: crab cakes, mushrooms stuffed with
shrimp, teriyaki beef on skewers, tea sandwiches with
smoked salmon, and—courtesy of Bruno—an exotic
caviar from a shop and a city Judith had never heard of.
“Thanks, Arlene,” Judith said when the two women
were back in the kitchen. “You saved my life. Now I
can get dinner.”
“No need,” Arlene said, opening the oven. “I made
SILVER SCREAM
41
a chicken casserole this afternoon. It’s heating right
now. I put the green salad in the fridge. The homemade
rolls can be heated up in five minutes.”
Judith beamed at her friend and neighbor. “Arlene, I
could kiss you. In fact, I will.” She leaned forward and
gave Arlene a big smack on the cheek.
“It’s nothing,” Arlene said, her expression suddenly
gone sour as it always went when she was complimented for her charity. “I knew you’d have other things
on your mind. By the way, the last guest just arrived.
Serena took him upstairs to his room.”
“The director, Chips Madigan,” Judith murmured.
“I’d better say hello.”
But Renie and Chips were already coming back
down the stairs when Judith reached the entry hall.
“Hey, coz,” Renie called from over the balustrade,
“meet the Boy Wonder of the movies.”
Startled by Renie’s familiarity with the famous director, Judith was even more startled to see the Boy
Wonder. With his red hair, freckles, and gawky manner, Chips Madigan looked like a college freshman.
Half stumbling down the stairs, he grinned at his hostess, put out a hand, and almost knocked over a vase of
flowers with his elbow. He wore a viewfinder around
his neck, which he put to his eyes as soon as he
reached the landing.
“Wow!” Chips cried in excitement. “A great tracking shot into the living room. Bookcases, silver tea
service, lace curtains—this angle reeks of atmosphere.” He let the viewfinder dangle from his neck
and loped over to Judith.
“Hi,” he said with a big smile. “You’re Mrs. Flynn,
right? This is one swell place you’ve got here.” Chips
42
Mary Daheim
got down on his haunches, the viewfinder again at his
eyes. “Great elephant’s-foot umbrella stand. It doesn’t
have a bad angle.”
Recalling the critical comments she’d overheard
from some of the other guests, Judith grinned back.
“Thank you, Mr. Madigan. I appreciate that.”
“Hey,” Chips responded, “my mom runs a bed-andbreakfast in Nebraska, right on the Missouri River. It’s
an old farmhouse. I’ll bet the two of you would get
along real well.”
“I’ll bet we would,” Judith agreed. Up close, she
could see that Chips wasn’t as young as he looked. The
red hair was thinning and there were fine lines around
his eyes and mouth. Maybe behind the camera he
coaxed rather than commanded his actors. Certainly he
emanated no aura of Hollywood’s legendary directors.
Judith found Chips Madigan’s friendly, boyish demeanor refreshing. Even endearing, she thought as he
turned toward the living room, tripped on the Persian
area rug, and sent his long, lanky frame sprawling
across the floor.
“Whoa!” Chips cried. “You’d never know I got my
start directing musicals!”
Though both Judith and Renie offered to help, he
politely brushed off their outstretched hands and
scrambled to an upright position on his own.
Judith noticed that none of the guests made the
slightest move to aid their fallen comrade. Indeed,
Chips Madigan’s unorthodox arrival was virtually ignored. Perhaps that was because Bruno Zepf was
standing in front of the fireplace, obviously over his
fright and looking like Napoleon about to rally his
generals.
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43
Chips, however, seemed undaunted. With a cocky
air, he strolled into the living room and plopped down
on the window seat next to Angela La Belle, who had
also joined the company. At least three cell phones
were swiftly turned off. Judith was beginning to wonder if the devices were permanently attached to their