Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

gray slacks and white linen blouse. Her hair was thick and glossy. Tastefully sized diamonds glittered at her ears, around her neck, and on her wedding ring finger. She’d traveled a long way from that $29-a-night hotel room.
    Mama said, “Oh, I know all about bad husbands, honey. I’ve had one or two myself.’’
    “Mama’s on Husband No. 5,” I said. “Sal’s a keeper though.’’
    “That’s not fair, Mace! You know at least one of those husbands was a good man, but a bad match. And, of course, your daddy was my life’s love—until he up and died on me.’’
    “On us, too, Mama.’’ It always irked me when she left out the part about three young girls also losing a father.
    “Speaking of husbands …’’ Savannah must have sensed the tension between us on this subject. She smoothly changed it, Southern woman that she was. “Have y’all seen mine?’’
    Mama pressed her lips together, stopping a stray word from issuing out. I took a quick look to make sure Carlos was still out of sight. And then I plunged in.
    “After Mama and I found Norman’s body, the assistant director made a big deal about your husband being missing all morning.’’
    “What’d he say?’’
    Mama and I looked at each other. I hesitated, wondering how much I should reveal.
    “Just tell her, Mace. Someone is bound to.’’ Mama said to Savannah, “My daughter’s an amateur detective. She’s already solved a couple of murders.’’
    “My mama exaggerates,’’ I said, as Savannah eyed me suspiciously. “I’m staying out of this mess.’’
    Glancing toward the serving line, I still didn’t see Carlos. He probably took his coffee to go. I took a deep breath and told her how Jonathan J. Burt had as good as called her husband a killer.
    “Johnny Jaybird? That little twerp!’’
    Savannah, imitating, bobbed her head. I immediately understood the assistant director’s nickname.
    “His voice is squawky, too, just like a blue jay,’’ Mama said.
    “Well, he’s squawking up the wrong tree this time,’’ Savannah said. “My husband has done just about every job there is on a movie set, from grip to script. Paul’s forgotten more than that little runt will ever know about film-making!’’
    Savannah seemed to be working herself into a lather, defending her husband. Mama patted her hand. “Don’t worry, honey. If that Johnny Jaybird is trying to cast aspersions, the truth will win out.’’
    “Paul wasn’t even scheduled to be on the set this morning. He was out scouting tomorrow’s location. Today, he’s shooting all afternoon, and into the evening. For all I know, that pint-sized creep took it upon himself to be Paul’s stand-in. What scene did he film?’’
    I told her about the galloping and re-galloping horse.
    “Figures. He fancies himself an action director.’’
    “So where is your husband, then?’’
    I was startled to hear Carlos asking the question. We’d been so wrapped up in our conversation, none of us had noticed him hunkered over a table off to our side, his back to us. That explained the quick departure. His plan all along had probably been to sneak back and eavesdrop. How long had he listened? He turned around, regarding the three of us over the rim of his coffee cup.
    Savannah coolly met his eyes. “Paul is probably off tromping through the woods right now. He loves the natural side of Florida. He wants to do it justice in the movie. I’ll bet he’s sitting under a cypress tree somewhere, staring up through the needles at that beautiful blue sky and imagining how things were, back in the olden days.’’
    Just as Savannah finished summing up her husband’s high opinion of authentic Florida, a crash sounded in the woods behind the catering tent. A string of curses followed. A sixty-something man in a bush vest, cargo pants, and a long gray ponytail stumbled out of the palmetto scrub. His face was bright red. Skunk vine trailed from his ankles. His pant legs were stained with