“Nothing really. I thought he was trying to pick me up.” Heather groaned again.
“What?” Danielle asked.
Heather glanced briefly at Joe and Kelly’s table. Kelly was looking over at them, but quickly turned back to her own table when Heather’s eyes met hers. Heather looked back to Danielle and said, “When he wouldn’t leave, I threatened to call the police. You know, go over to Joe’s table and get him to make the guy leave.”
Danielle started to giggle.
Heather frowned. “It’s not funny.”
“Yes, it is,” Walt said with a grin. “I’d love to see Joe’s face while you insist he remove the guy from your table.”
“Oh, shut up.” Heather picked up her glass of water and took a sip.
“Aww, stuff like this happens to all of us,” Danielle reminded her.
Heather shrugged. “I guess it’s no big deal. Ian’s sister thinks I’m a wacko anyway.”
“That’s not true,” Danielle argued.
“It’s true,” Walt teased.
Instead of getting mad at Walt, Heather looked at him and laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Chris.”
“How is he doing, by the way? Did you get him all tucked in?” Walt asked.
“Yeah, but I wish he would’ve agreed to stay with me. It’s kind of creepy over there at night. That place is huge. Heck, it sometimes creeps me out during the day. Of course, now there’s more people around. At least during the day,” Heather said.
ON THE OTHER side of the diner, Kelly picked up her cellphone and dialed her brother.
“Who are you calling?” Joe asked.
“I’m going to offer to babysit Connor tonight.”
“What? I thought we were going to the show?” Joe asked.
Kelly frowned at Joe. “Don’t you think Connor’s safety is more important than seeing some stupid movie?”
“WELL, at least I know who to look for now,” Heather said after the waitress brought her food. “What do you know about these people coming to stay at Marlow House, aside from the fact one of them may be a killer—and one a new victim?”
“The ghost never said that exactly. But the way he talked, it was like one of our guests could be in danger,” Danielle explained.
“So what do you know?” Heather asked again.
“About their personal lives, not much,” Walt said. “There is the producer, Jackie Stafford, and her husband. I believe he’s a photographer. Then there’s the director, Teddy Larimore, and his wife. I think she’s an actress, Polly Larimore.”
“I’ve never heard of her,” Heather said with a shrug. “Actually I’ve never heard of any of them—aside from Seraphina Bouchard. I’m not into following celebrities—but everyone knows who Seraphina is.”
“I have a feeling Seraphina staying with us is going to drive Pearl batty,” Danielle interjected.
Heather chuckled. “I assume you mean because of all the fans who’re probably going to be cruising up our street to check her out.”
“I wish Walt hadn’t agreed to that interview,” Danielle grumbled.
“I didn’t really have a choice,” Walt reminded her.
“They aren’t even starting the movie for a couple of months, are they? Is this normal for the director and producer and some of the actors to come stay in the area before filming even starts?” Heather asked.
Walt shrugged. “I’ve no idea what’s normal. This is a first for me. But from what I understand, it was a request made by the film’s backer—Beatrice Adair, who’ll be one of our guests. And as far as I know, Seraphina is the only actor from the film who’ll be staying with us next week.”
“Which is odd,” Danielle said. “Seraphina’s character isn’t even the lead role.”
“Okay, so you have the producer and her husband, that is one room,” Heather said, counting on her fingers. “Then the director and his wife, that is two rooms. I assume Seraphina has her own room and then the backer. So that leaves one empty room. Who’s going in there?”
“The room with the twin beds,” Danielle said. “The producer’s assistant is coming, and there might be another person, who’ll share the room with him—or her. We don’t know.”
“WHERE WILL YOU BE STAYING?” Josie asked. She sat on the edge of the bed and watched as her roommate, Phoebe Greda, rummaged through their closet, deciding what to bring with her on the trip up to Oregon.
“With the others, at some place that used to be a bed and breakfast. The guy who owns it, he’s the one who wrote Moon Runners.”
“It must be a big place, if everyone is staying there.”
“I have to share a room with Jackie’s assistant, Bentley Mason,” Phoebe explained.
“Oh, fun, co-ed,” Josie teased.
“He’s gay,” Phoebe said dryly. “But he is good looking.”
“Aren’t all gay guys?” Josie quipped.
Phoebe laughed and went back to sorting through her clothes while her roommate watched.
Josie thought Phoebe the perfect example of how beautiful girls were a dime a dozen in Hollywood. Phoebe’s dream of becoming an actress had not materialized. And while she had managed to associate with some heavy hitters, it was as an assistant through a childhood connection.
But Phoebe was an ambitious girl, and Josie had no doubt she would find a way to make her acting dream come true. Phoebe had that Lolita thing going for her. With the makeup off, her delicate features framed in an oval face, and her long blondish brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, she could easily pass for a teenager instead of her actual age of twenty-two.
Josie envied Phoebe her petite perfect nose, yet Josie knew if she saved her money, she could hire Phoebe’s plastic surgeon to give her one just like it. While Phoebe insisted her full pouty lips were her own, Josie suspected she meant her own in the sense she had paid for them, as opposed to being born with them. Phoebe’s most striking feature—in Josie’s opinion—were her light color eyes. Not quite green or hazel, ever changing depending on the eye makeup.
“I can’t believe she took you back,” Josie said. “Especially after all that stuff that was in the newspaper about you and Barry.”
Phoebe turned from the closet and faced Josie. “I told her at the time nothing happened. That it was all Barry’s fault.”
“But she saw you kissing him,” she reminded her.
“No, she thought she saw us kissing. But he was kissing me; I was not kissing him.” Phoebe then added dramatically, “He was forcing himself on me!”
Josie rolled her eyes. “But that’s not what happened.”
Phoebe shrugged and turned back to the closet. “She doesn’t know that. And I do regret it.”
“I’m still surprised she rehired you.”
Phoebe shrugged and turned back to Josie, now holding several hangers with blouses. “Sera and I go back a long way. Plus, my acting skills are obviously unappreciated.”
“I’m not sure why you even want to go on this trip. What do you hope to gain from it?” Josie asked.