Some Enchanted clair : A Magical Bakery Mystery (9780698140561) (15 page)

“It's literally a walk-on, as in, you walk through the shot in the background. Moving window dressing, really.” He lifted his chin toward the makeup trailer. “Get in there and have them do you up. We'll start in ten minutes.” And off he went to talk to the camera operator, who waited nearby.

Bianca was coming toward me by then. I ran to her. “Looks like I'm going to be joining you.”

“That's wonderful!” she said, her Georgia accent seeming to run thicker than ever since
Love in Revolution
had come to town.

“So, about Mr. Egan,” I began.

“Ten minutes, Ms. Lightfoot,” the director called, then turned to Owen. “She needs a dress, too.” The young man shot a long-suffering look my way before blanketing it with an obsequious smile. “Yessir. I'll get right on it,” he said before scurrying toward a woman holding a clipboard.

“Oops. I'd better scoot,” I said to Bianca. “See you in a few.”

It took almost twelve minutes, but the smocked woman who had vacated the makeup RV the day before so Ursula and I could talk turkey about spirits transformed me into a lady from the past. She told me her name was Susie, plopped a blond wig on my head, stuffed most of the hair under a white cotton cap, and applied what seemed like four tons of makeup with a deft, lightning hand.

She whipped off the bib from around my neck and said, “You'll do for a background shot. Try not to smear your face when you change.”

“Thanks,” I said meekly. “I'll do my best.”

Owen burst through the door, staggering under petticoats and crinolines. “Here. Get into these, quick!” He tossed a pair of pointy-toed satin shoes on the floor and ran out.

All the bossing around was making me regret saying yes, but I stripped down to my underwear and Susie helped me wiggle into the dress. “Where is wardrobe when you need them?” she muttered as she tugged the dress down over my bosom and began tucking and pinning around my waist. Moments later she stepped back. “Okay. I think you're set.” She looked at her watch. “Better get a move on. Nik's not the most patient man.”

I stumbled down the steps in the too-tight shoes and hobbled across to where Bianca stood waiting. Althea's jaw dropped when she saw me, and her eyes blazed under the big satin hat she'd been wearing the day before. Same outfit altogether, in fact.

Flustered, I looked away—right into Declan's delighted eyes. He stood next to one of the onlookers, and I saw him lean over and say something. The man listened, then clapped my boyfriend on the shoulder and nodded at me.

I would have loved to have known what was said in that exchange, but Niklas was already barking at me to stop limping.

Not at Bianca, I noticed, however. To her he said, “Sweetheart, remember what we talked about? You start down at the corner and stroll along the pathway. Stroll. Simply out for the afternoon, no hurry, and, if you like, perhaps the mildest, most genteel curiosity about the handsome man in uniform here.”

Van Grayson grinned.

“Of course, Nik.”

“Ms. Lightfoot, you follow her lead, okay? And whatever you do, do
not
look at the camera lens.”

“Okeydoke,” I said. How hard could it be?

Not hard at all, it turned out. At least the first time. Or the second. But Althea kept flubbing her lines, or Niklas didn't like her delivery, or Van's uniform was crooked, or, or, or. Between takes, Bianca explained that the scene, which frankly looked pretty boring to me, held more depth than met the eye. It might
look
like a whispered agreement between the fancy lady and the British officer to meet later that night. Only the fancy lady was really the twin sister, who was bent on sabotaging the fancy lady's love affair after a lifetime of jealousy over the fancy lady's fancy life.
However
, little did the twin know the British officer was also an imposter!

Oh, yes. Great hilarity would ensue, Bianca assured me.

I took her at her word.

By the time the director was pleased, we were on the seventeenth take and my feet were killing me. With relieved gratitude, I sat down on the grass and slipped off the offending shoes. A closer look revealed they were rather well worn, and I wondered with a shudder how many sweaty-footed extras had worn them before me. I felt a trickle of sweat work down my side and was pretty sure all Susie's carefully applied makeup was turning into a melted mess on my face.

Bianca, looking cool and lovely, grinned down at me. “So how do you like acting?”

I flapped my hand at her. “Bah.” I began to massage one foot, trying to regain some feeling. “This is your second time, right?”

She nodded, a weirdly happy expression on her face.

“You and Niklas Egan are involved, aren't you?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“I guess you could say that,” she lilted.

I nodded. “Just be careful. I don't want to see you get hurt.”

She stood and pulled me to my sore feet. “I'm a big girl, Katie. Don't you worry.”

“Bianca!” Speak of the devil. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” she said. “Let me get changed.”

He lifted a hand in agreement and began speaking with a female member of the crew.

I turned toward the RV where I'd abandoned my street clothes in a heap on a chair. As I did I saw a figure with hunched shoulders duck between the catering tent and the area where the props and costumes were kept. He paused by the corner of the catering tent, looking over his shoulder as if making sure he hadn't been seen.

It was the man I'd stumbled onto in the tent. The one who'd been wrapped around Althea. The one I'd at first mistaken as Steve.

“Bianca,” I hissed, though he was too far away to be able to hear me anyway. I pulled her into the shade of the boom truck.

“What?” Her gaze followed mine.

“Who is that guy?” I asked.

“That's Robin Bonner,” Bianca said.

My chin jerked in surprise. “Really?” For some reason I'd imagined the caterer as an older, portly gent. This guy was younger than me.

“What on earth is he doing?” she asked.

I shook my head. He'd been hired back, after all. Even had a contract and every reason to be on the set of
Love in Revolution
. So why was he acting so weird? He took one last look around and furtively moved toward the crime scene tape. As we watched, he crossed the tape and bent to the ground. Seconds later, he'd retraced his steps, straightened, and walked into the catering tent as if he owned it.

“That,” Bianca observed, “did not look quite kosher. Do you think Peter Quinn would want to know about the curious caterer?”

The corners of my mouth turned up. “I bet he would. But Quinn isn't here right now. I'll see you later.”

I fast walked to the tent. Inside I found Bonner bundling up a bag of garbage.

“Hi!” I said.

He looked up, but when he saw me, the smile that had begun to form dropped from his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm in the movie,” I said brightly.

His eyebrows shot up.

“As an extra,” I clarified. “Don't worry. I'm not trying to take your job away.”

His eyes narrowed. “Good.”

“In fact, I don't really understand why Simon fired you in the first place.”

He shrugged and turned back to the garbage. “We had a scheduling conflict.”

Meaning you didn't show up on time.

“So just now,” I said. “Before you came in here? It looked like you crossed the crime scene tape. That's pretty brave. I'd be too scared of what the police might do if they found out.”

He whirled and stared at me. “I picked up a candy wrapper.” He reached into the bag of garbage and pulled out the torn packaging from a Baby Ruth bar. “Althea is right about you,” he said, stuffing it back into the bag and cinching the ties.

Feeling chastised, I watched him stride out of the tent with the bag in his hand. Robin Bonner had been picking up litter.

Unless, of course, Robin Bonner was lying.

* * *

Not long after changing into my street clothes, I saw Steve stepping out of the makeup RV. He was back in costume, hair tied with a bow, his muscular legs well defined beneath the tight breeches. Did men really wear their breeches that tight back then—or ever? I had to admit, if anyone could pull it off, Steve Dawes could.

He paused when he noticed me hurrying across the corner of the square toward him. “Hey,” he said when I reached him. “You look like you're on a mission.”

“Er, sort of.” Now that I was standing in front of him, I felt terribly guilty. I wanted him to know Althea was stepping out on him with, of all people, Robin Bonner, but I didn't want to hurt him. As far as I knew, Althea Cole was the first woman he'd shown interest in since he and I had been sort of, kind of, but not really dating. Sometimes things were awkward between us, and it might not really be my business, but he was my friend, and I wanted the best for him.

The best couldn't be a woman who dallied with other men behind his back.

“Are you on the way to film a scene?”

He shook his head. “Just finished. Last time. I'm only in a couple of scenes, but Niklas is a bit of a perfectionist. I never dreamed it would take so much time.”

“So is Heinrich waiting for you to get back to the office?” I asked. Maybe he didn't have time for me to give him the bad news.

Amusement tugged at his lips. “Nope. I'm all yours. What's up?”

Taking a deep breath, I plunged in. “I think Althea is messing around with someone else.”

He blinked. “Really?”

“I didn't mean to, honest, but I stumbled into them in the wardrobe tent the other day. It didn't look good. Althea and the man who I found out later is the caterer Owen hired back were all sneaky and chummy. I've been debating whether to tell you or not, but I think you deserve to know.” I put my hand on his arm. “I'm so, so sorry.”

Steve looked down at the ground. He put his hand over mine. I felt him tremble, then heard a small sound. Oh, no, was he going to start crying? I was searching for the words to comfort him when he raised his head and I saw he wasn't exactly weeping.

He was laughing.

“I'm sorry,” he said with a little snort. “You're just so darned earnest. Thank you for looking out for me, but I think you might have misconstrued the situation. I don't think you saw what you think you did.”

“Oh, really.” He must really have it bad if he didn't want to hear anything against his new girlfriend.
Idiot
.

Except.

Except the Steve I knew was far from being an idiot. He knew something I didn't. Something about Althea. Could it be something Simon had known about, too? A secret the fixer had to fix?

Fists on my hips, embarrassment forgotten, I demanded, “Okay. Spill it.”

“What do you mean?” The picture of innocence.

“It could be important.”

“Aw, Katie, c'mon.” He reached out a hand toward me.

I backed away. “Really important. And if it's not, then I promise not to tell a soul. Cross my heart.”

“It's not mine to tell,” he said.

“Do you care for her so much you can't tell me?” Even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was dirty pool.

“Of course not.” He sighed. “I'm not dating Althea Cole, for heaven's sake. I couldn't care less who she spends time with or what they do. I'm pretty sure she and Robin Bonner weren't doing anything untoward in the wardrobe tent, though.”

I digested that information for a few seconds. If he wasn't dating her, why was he hanging out with her and letting her call him Stevie? And how did he know so much about the caterer?

“Okay, let me ask you one thing,” I said. “Do you know Althea well enough to be sure that she wouldn't kill Simon over whatever this secret is that you won't tell me?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then shut it again. He thought for a moment, then said, “No, I guess I really don't.”

I waited.

“Come on.” He waved me to the edge of the square by the Airstreams. We ducked under the rope, and he led me to a bench tucked under the overarching branches of a live oak. The succulent aromas of seafood, garlic, and grilling meat wafted from the direction of the Olde Pink House restaurant.

Once we were seated, he said, “Althea isn't even aware that I know who Bonner really is.”

My curiosity ratcheted up another notch.

Steve gave me a long look, then seemed to make a decision. “He's her son.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Simon came to Father to help find Althea's son. She gave him up for adoption when she was sixteen.”

“Good heavens. How old is Althea now?” I asked.

“Forty-one. Her son is twenty-five. Anyway, she knew he was adopted in Savannah, and since they were going to be filming here—and she knew of Simon's ability to get information and to keep his mouth shut—she decided to track her son down.”

“So . . . how do you know all this if she didn't tell you? Oh, wait.” I snapped my fingers. “Your father.” Heinrich Dawes was a powerful mover and shaker in Savannah, with tendrils everywhere and no compunction in using his druidic magic for business ends. “But how did Simon know to contact Heinrich?”

Steve shrugged. “Father has all kinds of contacts. And Simon was the kind of guy who knew people with lots of contacts. Father delegated the task to me. I tracked down Robin Bonner and told Simon Knapp. He's the one who reunited mother and son.”

“Then you met Althea, and she took a shine to you,” I said. “Got you a speaking part in the movie.”

He grimaced. “Not quite. Oh, she took a shine to ‘Stevie,' all right, but I only met her after Simon had arranged for me to be in the movie, and it worked out well that she likes me. See, Althea is apparently known to be difficult, and Niklas wanted things to go smoothly. Simon had too much to do to micromanage the leading lady, so he asked Father if I'd step in.”

And true to clan and Dawes family policy, you did what you were told.

“You agreed to help,” I said.

He tipped his head to the side. “In case you're wondering, I haven't been seriously interested in any woman since you turned me away. I guess I'm still hoping you might . . .” He trailed off as my eyes widened in alarm.

“Steve—”

He held up both his palms to me, moving them like erasers on a chalkboard before dropping them back into his lap. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“But—” I sighed and let it go.

He grinned easily and returned to the original subject. “It's been fun working on the set and seeing how movies are made.” The smile dropped from his face. “Fun except for, you know, the murder.”

I sifted through what Steve had told me about Althea. “It wasn't just happenstance that A. Dendum hired Bonner Catering.”