Hey, what are you doing here? I don’t need help until
tomorrow night.”
“Yes, you do,” Renie insisted, pointing a finger at
her cousin. “You’re already twitching. You’re agitated,
uneasy, even a little scared. Hollywood descends upon
Hillside Manor. You have to be nervous.”
“I guess,” Judith admitted, “I am.”
“So,” Renie said, extending her arms in a gesture of
goodwill, “I’m at your disposal.”
“But what about dinner for Bill and the kids?” Judith inquired.
“Incredibly,” Renie said, removing a can of Pepsi
from the fridge, “Bill informed me that the kiddies are
making dinner tonight. Very brave of them.”
“It would be,” Judith said dryly, “if they were still
kiddies. But since they’re all in the thirtysomething
range and still living at home . . .”
Renie waved a hand. “Don’t remind me. They’re
merely a bit slow to develop a sense of independence.”
“Leeches,” Judith said under her breath as footsteps
emanated from the front hall.
Renie looked startled. “Who’s that? Is Joe home already?”
“No,” Judith replied, heading out of the kitchen. “It’s
26
Mary Daheim
my ex-guests, the ones I had to cancel to make room for
the movie people. Hang on while I say good-bye.”
Renie, however, wandered out behind Judith, but
stopped in the archway between the dining room and
the entry hall. The Izards were at the door, city map in
hand.
“This place isn’t too bad,” Meg Izard allowed.
“Maybe next time we come through here, you’ll actually let us stay.”
“I hope so,” Judith said, not quite truthfully.
Walt Izard opened the door. “Lousy weather,
though.” He gestured outside. “It’s started to rain. Does
it really rain here all the time?”
“Often,” Judith answered, this time with honesty.
“Especially this time of year. Windy, too,” she added.
“Halloween weather, all right,” Meg said with a grimace. “That’s too bad. I hoped we’d have some sun to
celebrate our silver anniversary.”
“Drive safely,” Judith cautioned, moving closer to
the Izards in an effort to get them out of the house and
into their compact rental. “These streets can be slippery when—”
She stopped, staring into the cul-de-sac as a pair of
limos glided to the curb.
“Well, well,” Meg Izard muttered, “here come the
rich and famous. Let’s get out of their way, Walt. We
wouldn’t want to give them any just-plain-folks
germs.”
Judith was too flustered to protest. As the limo doors
were opened by their drivers, a third car pulled up and
stopped in front of the Steins’ house at the corner.
“Hey,” called one of the other drivers as a diverse
group of people began to emerge from the chauffeur- SILVER SCREAM
27
driven cars, “will somebody move this crate?” The
young man gestured at what Judith assumed was the
Izards’ rental.
Both Meg and Walt froze momentarily on the
threshold. “Big-shot bastards,” Walt muttered. “To hell
with ’em.”
But Meg had already started for the car. With an annoyed shrug, Walt followed his wife. The couple drove
away as Arlene Rankers appeared from the other side
of the hedge and the first of the celebrities made their
way toward Hillside Manor.
Although at least a half-dozen people were approaching the front porch in styles ranging from a
brisk trot to a languid lope, Judith’s gaze was fixated
on just one man, who held a cell phone to his ear: He
was almost bald, with a short grizzled beard and a fireplug build. What little hair he had left had grown out
and was tied with a black ribbon into a thin, foot-long
ponytail. His cheeks were pitted with old acne scars,
and while his movements were controlled, energy exuded from him like sparks from a faulty toaster. Judith
realized that she recognized him from casually
glimpsed photographs. He was Bruno Zepf,
megaproducer and Hollywood legend-in-the-making.
“Mr. Zepf,” Judith said, putting out her hand.
“Mr. Zepf,” echoed Renie and Arlene, who had
joined Judith on the porch. Renie looked as if she were
trying very hard not to be impressed; Arlene appeared
close to bursting with unbridled gush.
Zepf clicked off the cell phone and zeroed in on Judith, his shrewd blue eyes narrowing a bit. “You’re
Mrs. . . . Flynn?”
“I am.” To her horror, Judith dropped a slight curtsy.
28
Mary Daheim
“Welcome to Hillside Manor,” Arlene burbled, grabbing the hand that Judith had just released. “This is a
wonderful B&B. This is a wonderful neighborhood.
This is a wonderful city.” She lowered her voice only a
jot. “That’s why we’re thinking of moving.”
Judith and Renie were used to Arlene’s contradictions. Judith flinched, but Bruno apparently hadn’t
heard Arlene. He had already moved on to shake
Renie’s hand without ever looking right at her, and was
now in the entry hall, surveying his new surroundings.
Such was his air of possession that Judith felt as if
she’d not only rented Bruno a room but sold him the
entire house.
Judith had to force herself to take her eyes off the
great man and greet the other guests. She immediately
recognized Dirk Farrar and Angela La Belle, whose famous faces had appeared in a series of hit movies. Judith had actually seen two of their films, on video. Just
as the pair reached the porch, Judith noticed that
Naomi Stein had come out of her house on the corner
and Ted Ericson was pulling into his driveway across
the street.
As Ted got out of his car, Dirk Farrar also saw the
newcomers. “Beat it, scumbags!” he yelled. “No paparazzi!” Pushing past Angela La Belle and the threewoman welcoming team, he disappeared into the
living room.
With a faint sneer on her face, Angela La Belle ignored the gawking neighbors along with her fellow
actor and proceeded up the front steps.
“Ms. La Belle,” Judith said, gathering her aplomb,
“I so enjoyed your performance in”—her mind went
blank—“your last movie.”
SILVER SCREAM
29
Angela’s face, which seemed so angelic on the screen,
wore a chilly smile. “Thanks. Where’s the john?”
“Straight ahead,” Renie said, pointing to the new
door that Skjoval Tolvang had recently installed.
Judith was left to confront a somewhat less familiar
face. She racked her brain to recall who else was on
Bruno’s guest list.
“Hi, Mr. Carmody,” Renie said, coming to the rescue. “My husband and I were sorry you didn’t win
Best Supporting Actor this year. You were a really
great villain in To Die in Davenport.”
“Thanks,” Ben Carmody replied with what appeared
to be a genuine smile. “Face it, I was up against some
pretty tough competition.”
Judith was startled by Carmody’s benign appearance. She was so used to seeing him as the embodiment of evil that she scarcely recognized him. He was
tall and lean, much better looking in person than on the
screen. Judith shook Ben Carmody’s hand and also received a warm smile.