“turn around as discreetly as you can to see who just
showed up for a drink.”
“Let’s try this,” Renie said, dumping her knife on
the floor. “I prefer using my hands when I eat anyway.”
She bent down to pick up the knife, then glanced up to
see Ben Carmody a mere ten feet away.
“Why isn’t he swilling down Bruno’s expensive
stash of alcohol at the B&B?” Judith murmured, noticing that some of the other customers were trying not to
stare at Ben. “Why is he here, alone?”
“Because,” Renie replied, loading a slice of rye with
lox, “he wants to be just that—alone. You know, like
Garbo.”
“I suppose.” Judith kept her eye on the actor. “He’s
ordering what looks like straight vodka. Two, in fact.
Uh-oh. Here comes Ellie Linn. Now what?”
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Mary Daheim
“Maybe the second vodka is for her,” Renie suggested.
Between bites of salad and spoonfuls of chowder,
Judith watched the couple at the bar, who were now
being eyeballed by at least a dozen other customers.
Typical of a city known for its good manners, none of
the oglers approached the famous pair.
A glass of white wine was placed before Ellie; Ben
downed both shots of vodka.
“They’re having a very serious conversation,” Judith
said. “I’m trying to read their body language. Oddly
enough, Ellie seems to be in control. She’s all business.
That strikes me as peculiar. I figure her for no more
than twenty or twenty-two at most.”
Renie had lapped up her chowder and almost finished the lox plate. “The control factor is money,” she
said. “Her dad, Heathcliffe MacDermott, is the hot-dog
king, remember? I heard he put money into The Gas-
man.”
“Why? To ensure that Ellie got a good part?”
“I suppose,” Renie replied, breaking up more crackers. “I don’t think she’s made more than two or three
movies before this.”
When the cousins had finished their meal and paid
the bill, Ben and Ellie were still head-to-head. Ben was
on his third vodka, though Ellie had barely touched her
wine. Unnoticed, Judith and Renie left T. S. McSnort’s
and headed back to Hillside Manor.
Joe met them in the driveway. “Nobody’s home except that writer, Costello. I tried to tell him about your
mother’s mistake, but he blew me off. I still think that
it serves them right. A grand for a bunch of mushrooms. Sheesh.”
SILVER SCREAM
81
“I know.” Judith started for the back door with
Renie behind her.
“Do you need some help?” Joe called after them.
“Not yet,” Judith replied. “You and Bill and Carl
Rankers will be waiters at the midnight supper, remember?”
Joe looked amused. “I remember. I’m dressing as a
choirboy.”
“So you are.” Judith sighed. “I’m dressing as a
Roman slave. It fits my role to a T. Oh,” she added as
an afterthought, “you’ll have to pick up the costumes
from Arlecchino’s before four.” Keeping it brief, she
explained the damage that had been done to Angela’s
Scarlett O’Hara outfit.
“Sabotage?” Joe said. “What’s with this bunch?”
“Jealousy, hatred, malice, hostility,” Renie put in.
“All the usual Hollywood emotions.”
Joe shrugged. “I’m glad I never wanted to be a
movie star. Being a cop seems like a breeze by comparison. Perps aren’t nearly as vicious as people in the
movie business. Though,” he continued in a musing
tone, “I suppose a cop’s life is always interesting to
filmmakers.”
Judith scowled at Joe. “What are you thinking of?”
Joe gave Judith an innocent look. “Nothing. Not
really.”
“Good,” said Judith, and went into the house.
For the next hour the cousins worked in the kitchen,
preparing the supper dishes that could be made ahead.
Joe finally came in from the garage around three. He
was carrying a battered FedEx package.
“The deliveryman just brought this,” he said. “Shall I?”
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Mary Daheim
“Go ahead, open it,” Judith replied, wiping her
hands off on a towel. “It must be more exotic items for
tonight, though I thought we already had everything on
hand.”
“Whatever it is, it’s marked perishable,” Joe said,
using scissors to cut the strong paper wrapping. “In
fact, I guess this was supposed to arrive yesterday. The
driver apologized, but explained that because it came
from overseas—” He stopped cold as he saw the box.
“It’s French truffles.”
Judith stared at the embossed gold lettering. “Périgord truffles. Dare we?” She cut away the tape that
sealed the box and lifted the lid. “Yuk! No wonder
Mother threw the other box out!”
Renie peered around Judith’s arm. “Oh, for heaven’s
sake, it’s just a bunch of brown truffles! I wouldn’t
mind tasting one.”
“Bleah!” Judith stuck out her tongue. “Go right
ahead. I wouldn’t touch those things with a ten-foot
pole.” But even as Renie picked up a paring knife, Judith smacked her hand. “No, you don’t! These are for
the guests, and now that they got here, Joe can pretend
he found them.”
“Hey,” Joe cried, “that would be a lie! I’m not accepting a fee on false pretenses.”
“Ooh . . .” Judith ran an agitated hand through her
salt-and-pepper hair. “It just seems to me that after all
the—” She stopped and sighed. “You’re right, we’ll
tell them the truth. The truffles got held up because
they came from”—she looked at the mailing label on
the wrapper—“Bordeaux.”
“Makes sense,” Renie remarked.
Judith turned to her cousin. “What does?”
SILVER SCREAM
83
Renie held out her hands. “That it would take longer
than if they came from Butte, Montana.”
Judith blinked at her cousin, then looked at Joe.
“True,” she said in a distracted voice. “But would they
send two boxes? I wonder what was in the package that
Mother flushed down the toilet?”
Judith offered up a prayer of thanksgiving when Joe
brought the costumes back from Arlecchino’s at threefifty. The Scarlett O’Hara costume had been mended,
if not restored. While Judith and Renie were examining it, Angela La Belle wandered into the living room.
“Oh,” she said in a disinterested voice, “that’s mine,
isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Judith replied. “I had the costume shop put
on a different skirt. It looks rather nice, doesn’t it?”
Angela barely glanced at the costume. “I guess.
Where’s Dade? Bruno’s looking for him.”
Judith said she hadn’t seen him, but understood that
he was the only member of the Zepf party who hadn’t
gone out that afternoon.
“Well, he’s not down here, and he’s not in his
room,” Angela declared. “Maybe he flew back to Malibu.” With a languid toss of her long blond hair, the actress wandered out to the front porch.
Renie gave Judith an inquiring look. “She doesn’t
seem very upset about her costume, does she?”