Cross-Stitch Before Dying (5 page)

“You
are
up to the task, aren’t you, Bev?” he asked.

“Of course I am,” Mom replied confidently.

“By the way, I’m going to send a couple landscape and photography scouts with you and Reggie to Tallulah Falls tomorrow, Marcy,” Henry said. “If they agree that the area will work for us, we’ll begin filming there as soon as possible.”

Reggie grinned at me.

I only wished I could share in her and Mom’s excitement over this project.

I
t was late Sunday afternoon when the small plane carrying Reggie, me, and Henry Beaumont’s two handpicked experts touched down in Eugene, Oregon. I’d called Ted to alert him to the change in Reggie’s and my travel arrangements. He and Manu would still be picking us up, of course, only they’d be doing so two hours earlier than they’d previously anticipated. The guys were thrilled about that; and, despite the fun we’d had over the weekend—for the most part—Reggie and I were thrilled to be getting home early too.

We hadn’t had any more interaction with Babs, Henry, or anyone else connected to the movie after our visit to the studio Saturday morning. We’d merely picked up our materials and moved on. But, like Mom, I felt this was going to be a very labor-intensive—and for her, uncomfortable—project to be a part of. Mom was tough, and I knew she could outlast Babushka Tru if she put her mind to it. I just hoped Babs didn’t give Mom too much trouble. After all, Mom was successful. She could gracefully bow out of this project and be working on another movie set the next day. I kind of wished she would.

After visiting the studio, we’d taken the clothing back to Mom’s house and then went to Point Bonita Lighthouse. We’d hiked and picnicked, and Reggie had taken tons of pictures. Sunday morning, we’d just relaxed and chatted with Mom. Mom had invited some of her assistants over for lunch, and Reggie had given them a crash course on chikankari. They caught on very quickly—much quicker than I did!

Upon touching down in Eugene, Reggie and I got off the plane and hurried to the gate. Manu and Ted met us with flowers. Manu had brought Reggie’s favorite stargazer lilies, and Ted had a dozen red roses for me. I barely avoided crushing them when I launched myself into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” I said. “How’s Angus?”

“He’s fine, but we’ve both missed you like crazy,” Ted answered. “He’s gonna be thrilled to see you.”

I grinned. “I’ll be happy to see him too. Did you catch your robbery suspect?”

“Excuse us for interrupting,” said Sonny Carlisle, the burly, dark-haired movie locations manager. “Ron and I are going to go on over and pick up our rental car.” Ron was tall, slender, and balding; but his open smile and mischievous green eyes gave him an air of attractiveness and approachability.

“Please forgive my rudeness,” I said, horrified that I’d forgotten the two men in my excitement over being home. “Guys, this is Sonny Carlisle and Ron Fitzpatrick, locations manager and director of photography for Henry Beaumont’s upcoming movie. Sonny and Ron, this is Ted Nash and Manu Singh.”

The men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

“We’ll wait for you to get your car, and then you can follow us to Tallulah Falls,” I said to Sonny.

“That’s not necessary,” he said. “We’ve got our GPS, and we’ll be fine. We’ll meet you and Reggie in the hotel lobby in the morning at eight.”

“All right.” I smiled. “See you then.”

I didn’t revisit the subject of the robbery suspect until Ted and I were in the backseat of Manu’s white Ford Bronco headed back to Tallulah Falls.

“You guys were getting ready to give Reggie and me an update on your gunman when Sonny and Ron interrupted,” I said.

“Were we?” Ted met Manu’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“There isn’t much to update,” Manu said. “We’ve been following every lead, and police departments all across Oregon and our neighboring states have a description of our guy. But he seems to have gone underground. We’ll simply have to wait him out.”

“You don’t think he’d try to find either one of you. . . . Do you?” I asked.

“No way,” Ted said with a chuckle. “He’s avoided capture for this long by being smart. It isn’t likely he’ll suddenly go stupid on us.” He put his arm around me and drew me close. “So how’s Bev?”

With a sigh, I rested my head against his chest. “I really wish she’d pull out of this project. I’ve got a terrible feeling about it.”

•   •   •

I was having a major battle with my conscience over having to leave Angus while Reggie and I met with the locations experts and took them to the site the next morning. I cupped the dog’s large head in my hands. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour, and then I’ll be right back to get you. I promise.”

Angus whimpered as if he didn’t believe me. I almost relented and took him along on the scouting expedition then; but I wasn’t familiar with the area we were visiting, and I didn’t know how Sonny and Ron felt about dogs. So I reiterated my promise and tried to avoid his eyes as I slipped out the door.

Before I could back the Jeep out of the driveway, Angus pushed aside the curtain at one of the living room windows and pressed his nose against the glass. It was adorable. I caved.

I put the Jeep in park and rushed to unlock the front door. “Come on, Angus,” I said.

He nearly ran over me getting to the car.

When I got to the Inn at Tallulah Falls, I cracked the windows and hurried inside. Reggie was already standing in the rustic, ski lodge–inspired lobby. I was surprised to see that she was wearing jeans, though her top was a traditional Indian tunic.

“Good morning,” I said. “This is different. I’ve never seen you in jeans before.”

She smiled. “This is the only pair I own. I wear them when Manu and I go hiking.”

“So when you said this place was remote, you weren’t kidding.”

“Not by a long shot,” she said. “It makes Point Bonita look tame. I hope our friends are up to the trek.”

“I hope
I’m
up to it. By the way, I brought Angus along. Do you think they’ll mind?”

She shook her head. “They’re movie people. Surely they’ve worked with animals before.”

“I could probably slip in a snarky jab at Babushka Tru here, but I’d better not,” I said.

“Will your mom actually have to work all that closely with Babs?” Reggie asked.

“I’m afraid so. I just don’t know how much of her abuse Mom will be able to take.”

The elevator doors opened and Sonny and Ron stepped out.

“Hi, ladies.” Sonny greeted us in his booming voice. Ron merely raised his hand in a cordial wave.

“I hope you don’t care that I brought my Irish wolfhound along,” I said. “I figured I’d just follow you guys in my Jeep since I don’t know where we’re going anyway. Plus, it might be good to have him along on a hike.”

“Oh, I love dogs,” Ron said. “Can I ride with you?”

“Of course,” I said.

Sonny turned to Reggie. “Then, Mrs. Singh, please lead the way.”

Reggie was driving Manu’s Bronco; and as I followed it out of town, I chatted with Ron. I learned that he had two dogs—a beagle mix and a chocolate Labrador retriever. And he told me that he had an ex-wife and one child—a son—and that he’d worked with Henry Beaumont for the better part of fifteen years.

Of course, I really wanted to ask him about Babushka Tru, but I knew I’d have to broach that topic carefully.

“Has it ever been difficult for you to work with someone on a particular movie set?” I asked.

“I get along fine with most people,” he said. “When I cross paths with someone whose personality doesn’t gel with mine, I find it’s best to simply avoid that person.”

“But what if you can’t? Then what do you do?”

Ron sighed and turned in his seat to pet Angus. “Look, Marcy, I know what you’re getting at. Everyone on set is aware of how your mom feels about Babushka Tru. None of the guys seem to have a problem with Babs. And while the other women in the cast and crew don’t particularly
like
the girl, they all know they’ll have to work with her.” He turned back to face the front. “Actresses have the reputation for being divas—for throwing tantrums, being disrespectful, showing up at their leisure, making constant and often ridiculous demands. . . . They’re not all that way, of course, but the behavior of those who are is more widely tolerated because they fill cinema seats.”

“Costume designers don’t,” I said, finishing the thought he’d left unsaid.

“Not so much, no. Don’t get me wrong—your mother is an important cog in the machine.”

“But she’s not the star.”

“She’s not the star . . . and, as far as I know, there aren’t any rumors about your mom and Henry,” he said.

I whipped my head around to look at him before turning my attention back to the road. He was looking down at his hands.

“Babushka and Henry?” I asked, my voice emerging as a screech. “But she’s young enough to be his daughter, and he’s
married
.”

“It could just be unfounded gossip,” Ron said. “You know how people like to talk . . . especially when they don’t know anything. I’m only telling you because I’d hate to see your mom lose this job. If she can’t work with the situation as it now stands, tell her to get out while the decision is hers to make.”

I mumbled a
thank you
as I noticed that Reggie had pulled off the road. I followed and parked on the shoulder behind her.

She got out of the Bronco and came to my side of the Jeep. “We’ll have to hike the rest of the way.”

I grabbed Angus’s leash, got out of the Jeep, and opened the back door. Angus shifted over to allow me to snap the leash onto his collar, and then he bounded out to greet Reggie.

“Hi, baby,” she said. “Ready to go for a walk?”

Angus wagged his entire body.

Ron slung his camera bag over his shoulder. He wore one camera around his neck; and before we began our ascent, he took the lens cap off and started snapping photographs.

As we climbed the rocky path that led to Tallulah Falls’ answer to Somwarpet, India, Reggie led the way, Sonny walked as closely to her as possible, Ron trailed behind them, snapping shots all the way, and Angus and I brought up the rear. We must’ve presented a strange parade to anyone watching.

Not that I’d have thought anyone
was
watching until someone whizzed past on a dirt bike. The bike came out from behind a thicket of brush and had to swerve to miss Reggie. She jumped out of the way and would have fallen had Sonny not been there to catch her.

I hurried forward. “Reggie, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She pushed her hair out of her face and her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. “I was just startled.” She pointed. “The area I was telling you about is right up ahead.”

I could see that Reggie had been embarrassed by her reaction to the dirt biker, but that biker had come dangerously close to hitting her. The biker had been wearing heavy clothes and a dark, face-hiding helmet. And the biker had been alone. I didn’t think it was a swell idea for anyone to be in such a remote area alone. I made a mental note to ask Ted if this was a popular dirt biking spot. If so, and if Sonny and Ron found this to be a good set location, they might need to hire extra security to keep the bikers from coming onto the set—accidentally or otherwise.

When we got to a clearing, Reggie explained that the wooded area surrounding it had always reminded her of Somwarpet. “The only thing missing is Abbimatta Falls.”

“We can edit that in,” said Sonny, surveying the area both critically and appreciatively. “This sure comes closer to the pictures we’ve seen than anything in California. Don’t you think so, Ron?”

“Absolutely.” Ron spoke from behind his camera and amid the whir of photos being captured. He eased the camera bag off his shoulder, opened it, and took out a tripod. “I think this is it. We need to get Henry out here so that if he agrees, we can move on it.”

Sonny nodded. “In the meantime, we can go to the courthouse to see who owns the land and go through the proper channels for permission to film.” He looked at Reggie. “Is this place in the town or the county?”

“Tallulah County,” she answered and then went on to give him directions to the courthouse.

“When we get back to the hotel, I’ll upload these pics and send them to Henry,” Ron said. “Sonny, you can handle the legalities.”

•   •   •

Ron rode with Reggie and Sonny back to the hotel, so Angus and I could go straight on to the Seven-Year Stitch. For some reason, the incident with the dirt biker was really nagging at me, so I called Ted and asked him if it was a popular hangout.

“I can see why kids might like the thrill of that rocky terrain, but no one should be out there alone,” he said. “That’s a dangerous area. I’ll check with the county officers and see what they say about it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Hopefully, I’ll know something by lunch,” he said. “What are you in the mood for?”

“I could really go for a chef’s salad.”

“I could go for a chef’s salad between two slices of rye.”

I laughed. “I think they call that a club sandwich, don’t they?”

“Something like that,” he said.

After talking with Ted, I called Mom and asked her how things were going. It was only midmorning. I hoped things couldn’t have gotten too bad already. They had. Mom launched into a tirade about Babs and how spoiled she was and how she didn’t have any decency in her whatsoever.

“Furthermore, she doesn’t have an ounce of acting ability,” Mom said. “I don’t know how in the world she got this job.”

“Have you heard any rumors . . . about Babs and Henry?” I asked.

Mom was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Are you there?” I asked, afraid the call might’ve been lost.

“Yes. I’m just processing your question. It isn’t a random one, is it? Someone said something.”

“One of the locations experts,” I said. “He told me to tell you that if you can’t work with Babs to leave now.”

“Before they throw the old broad out and ruin her reputation?” Mom spat the question out of her mouth as if it were poison.

“He didn’t say that in so many words. . . .”

“But that was the gist, yeah, I get it.”

“Mom, I’m only telling you this for your own good. I have a bad feeling about this entire project.”

“I appreciate your concern, Marcella, but I will be completing this project. I’m in for the long haul. I’ll prove myself to that guttersnipe if it kills us both. I’ll talk with you soon, darling. Good-bye.”

With that, she was gone. But that wasn’t the last I’d heard of killing that morning. About an hour after I’d first spoken with Ted about the dirt bike incident, he called to tell me that the Tallulah County Police Department had gone up to investigate whether or not there were dirt bikers trespassing along the trail. I hadn’t considered that we were trespassing this morning, but there were more important issues to think about.