Riverstar (3) (13 page)

Life, that’s what
, she thought. Hard most of the time with small
moments of bliss. She shook her head, as if to dispel the gloomy
thoughts. A drink. She needed a drink. She left Ben sleeping and headed to the main house.

***

A few minutes later, Bella stood with Peter Ball on the deck of Drake’s house, sipping vodka on the rocks. He held a beer bottle in his hands, peeling at the label. The rain had ceased and the clouds parted to reveal a partial moon and scattered stars. It was cold, and their breath made clouds in the night air. Bella shivered despite her heavy jacket. She’d lived in California too long.

“After dinner on a night like this, I miss smoking,” said Bella, shaking her glass so the ice clattered.

“You smoked?” asked Peter.

“Yeah. For like two minutes before I got too vain, worried about wrinkles and stopped. But every once in a while I want one.”

They were quiet for a moment. Bella sipped her drink. Peter tipped back his beer. There was the rushing sound of a truck on the highway in the valley below. Something about the sound always made Bella feel lonesome. Perhaps it was the thought of the truck driver, alone, making his way to wherever with his company’s goods in the back. Was he sleepy? Lonesome for his family? Did he listen to music or talk radio?

She glanced back up at the stars. They were the same for the truck driver as they were for her and thousands of others who might be gazing upon them at this very moment.

“Bella, you sure Ben didn’t do this?”

Her thoughts turned from the stars to Ben. “I am. Aren’t you?”

“I’m not a betting man. I’m more of a fact guy. Comes with my job. But if I had to bet on anyone’s innocence, it’s Ben Fleck’s.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Gut, mostly. I’m a good judge of character. Can sniff out the
truth usually. Plus it doesn’t add up. No motive. Unless he raped her and didn’t want her to talk.”

A jolt went through her. The tips of her fingers tingled. “No
way.”

“Ben will have to go in tomorrow and give a DNA sample.”

“Well, that’ll prove his innocence, right there.”

He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “You sure
about that?”

“Yes.” They stood for a moment, watching the stars. “Peter, will you let me ride shotgun with you on this?”

“What do you mean? Like help me investigate?”

“Right.” She felt stupid suddenly. This was a real detective. He wouldn’t want her tagging along.

“You think you have time?”

“I can squeeze it in. I won’t say anything or get in your way.
And I know my way around town. That would be a help to you.”

“Why, Bella?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you want to do this?’

“Because I love him. It’s as simple as that.” As she said it, she knew it was true. She’d loved Benjamin Fleck from the first moment she’d spotted him in her brother’s living room.

“Okay, then. We’ll start tomorrow. At Lefty’s. Always start with the bartender.”

The door opened behind them and Cleo came out to the deck. “Hi, Bella,” she said softly, seeming almost shy. “What are you two doing out here?” she asked, sliding both arms around Peter’s waist from behind and resting her cheek against his back. “It’s freezing.”

“It is,” said Peter. “Hey, I’m going to go inside and have some
scotch with Drake.” He paused, nudging his wife slightly. “Go
ahead, ask Bella the stuff you wanted to ask her.”

Cleo pulled her jacket tighter. “Yeah, okay.”

After Peter left, Bella turned to Cleo. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

“I’m a wreck. It’s been so long. And being in the same room with
Stefan and Genevieve tonight I realized how screwed I am—they’re pros and I haven’t really acted in ten years. Not to mention taking
the place of poor Tiffany Archer. I want to turn around and go home.”

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make you look perfect.”

Cleo laughed. “Yeah, there’s that too. My God, Genevieve’s gorgeous. The camera doesn’t lie, does it?”

Bella looked at her for a moment. “You know what I’ve noticed in the years I’ve been doing this job?”

“What’s that?”

“Women never think they’re beautiful. And trust me I’ve
worked on the most beautiful women in the world by anyone’s standard and
none of them think they’re half as lovely as they really are. And what’s even sadder is the rest of the world is comparing themselves to the women in my makeup chair. If they don’t think they’re beautiful there’s absolutely no hope for the rest of us.” She paused, cocking her head to
the side, taking in Cleo Tanner. “You’re as lovely as Gennie, just different.”

“Hollywood.” Cleo looked up at the sky, shaking her head. “I can’t even get my mind around that. Yesterday I’m teaching
Montessori and looking forward to going home to Peter at the end of the day. Next thing I know I get a call from my agent that I need to get down here
as fast as I can. And there’s this script waiting for me, like I’m a real actress or something and I have lines to learn and, well, I’m
terrified.”

Bella squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to talk to
between takes. That’s what good makeup artists do. We’re like
bartenders that way.”

Cleo laughed. “Good to know.”

“Who’s your agent?”

“Camille Bradbury. Graham hooked me up with her.”

Bella shivered. Camille Bradbury was a shark in a well-
preserved, fifty-year-old, human form—a tiny body that lived on vodka and cigarettes. Behind the Botox that made her features unreadable and sleek, precisely-cut, bottle-blond hair was the soul of a great white shark that could rip a person apart and leave them bleeding on the urine-scented streets of Hollywood in the time it took to order a skinny latte from the nearest Starbuck’s barista/actress.

Cleo stomped her feet and pulled her jacket tighter. “They
always say you’re truly living if you’re doing something that scares you. I guess I’m about as alive as you can get.”

Yes, me too
, thought Bella.

After Cleo went inside, Bella wandered to the edge of the deck. She sat on the steps looking up at the sky. The countless peppered stars glittered and sparkled and felt close. Might she gather them in her hands? Perhaps put them in a Mason jar to draw upon later for strength like children did with fireflies back east? On that summer
night with Ben, standing near the rose garden, they’d held hands
and gazed upward at the Milky Way. He’d pointed to the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and Orion’s Belt. And she’d known then she’d never seen the sky. Not in Seattle where the clouds rarely moved aside and one only suspected the stars were there, hidden, waiting for a shift in the wind. Not in Los Angeles where the lights of the city and the pollution scarred an obscured sky. But here, they were close and
tangible and splendid. She’d gasped from the beauty of it and
moved
closer to Ben, the scent of sun-drenched rose petals sweet, and
leaned into him to welcome his kiss that changed her heart.

And now, under this October sky holding these flecks and
slivers of light, she sighed. A sense of peace that began in her changed heart soothed the hidden dark places where fear and worry dwelled, as if the stars had been conjured just for her by a nameless force. All will be well. Surely this was true, she thought, reaching up toward the sky with her fingertips. It gave one the idea of limitless possibilities, if the universe held such things as this.

***

Inside the house, Drake and Annie were putting away the last of the dinner dishes. “I was thinking I should let Cleo and Peter have the guest quarters in the house. I’ll move out to the guesthouse with Ben,” said Bella.

“Isn’t that a little soon?” Drake looked at her, his face concerned, although he was trying to hide it, which Bella found amusing.

Bella shrugged, ready for a fight. “You need the space. And
Peter’s
doing us a favor by agreeing to look into this unofficially while
Cleo’s working on Stone River.”

To her surprise, Drake agreed. “You’re right. We’re lucky to
have him investigating this when he has no jurisdiction here, especially given the obvious ineptitude of the local police. I’ll let Peter and Cleo know to bring in their things.”

Bella packed her clothes and toiletry items quickly, feeling
suddenly so exhausted she could barely think straight. In the guesthouse, she left her suitcase packed, setting it quietly by the
bureau so as not to wake Ben. She brushed her teeth and washed her face and then, stripping
down to nothing, slipped into bed. Ben shifted, murmuring
something
in his sleep. She moved close to him, pressing her cold backside
against his front and wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Bella, you feel so good in my bed,” he whispered in her ear.

The spark of desire shot through her. But not tonight. Tonight Ben needed to sleep.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Looking at the stars.”

“Ah. The stars and the scent of roses were there when I kissed you for the first time. Do you remember?”

“Every detail.” She moved so she faced him, kissing his neck,
taking in his scent. “Peter’s agreed to let me tag along this week to see if we can figure out who did this.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“Because I believe in you. And I’m scared. And when I’m scared I try and take control.”

She felt him smile against her head. “Bella, you’re a menace. You know that?”

“I’ve heard this before. Mostly from my brother.”

“A force of nature.”

A force of nature.
Her fire had been called worse. “Go to sleep,” she said. “You need to be strong tomorrow.”

“But it’s hard to keep my hands off you.” His hand traveled up the back of her leg and over her hip.

And then, like the inevitability of the stars’ return on any given
night, they let themselves be lost in one another until their energy
was exhausted and they fell into the dreamless sleep of lovers.

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING,
Bella was jolted awake by a text from Richard Greenwood’s assistant. “Cast and crew meeting on set at 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Mandatory.”

She sat up, yawning. It was only six thirty. Ben was still asleep, breathing steadily. How nice it would be to stay in bed all day, especially since it was a Saturday.
But duty calls
, she thought. Her mother had often said that before she left them for the day.
Duty calls
. On those mornings, more frequent than the others when their mother stayed and made them pancakes, Drake had taken care of her, gotten her breakfast and made sure she was dressed, hair combed, and teeth cleaned and on the bus for school. She’d been a skinny child and it was always raining. The frequent wind would make its way up her pants legs so by the time she walked up the steps of the school bus her teeth chattered. But her mother had given her a red raincoat with a faux fur lining and red boots for Christmas the year she was in fourth grade. How proud she was of that coat and boots. And warm.

She’d gotten her little niece Chloe a pair of pink boots and a matching raincoat for Christmas. They were still stuffed in Bella’s closet, on the floor behind shoes she never wore. Chloe had died before Bella was able to give them to her. And then it came, the
sadness, like it was fresh, pulling her into grief like an unexpected riptide. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them, letting the tears come.
Lean into the grief,
her therapist Valerie advised
. Let it take you. Don’t fight it because it will find its way back to you anyway.

Ben stirred next to her, sitting up and reaching for her. “Bella, what is it?”

She told him then of Chloe and her mother, how sometimes the loss felt like a new wound instead of scar tissue.

“Well, all this with Tiffany’s bringing it up. Of course it makes all the loss just rush back into you.” He put out his arms. “May I hold you? Would that help at all?”

“It would.” But the tears wouldn’t stop. She sobbed into his bare chest until he was damp. Finally, the tears ran out and she rose up on her elbow to look into his eyes. “Thank you for letting me cry.”

“My mother always says it takes a real man to let a woman cry without trying to fix it.”

“Your mother’s very wise.” She leaned down and kissed him. In
the kiss she gave all the love she felt for him with her big and
yearning
heart, her tender underbelly. And he returned it in a long and
searing
kiss she wanted to never end. “Ben, I love you,” she said into his
mouth. “I can’t help myself.”

“Bella,” he breathed into her as he pulled her under him, looking into her eyes. “You make me feel like the person I want to be, like I was meant to be, like I want to be. Is this what love is, then?”

“I think so.” She bit her bottom lip, because it quivered and the lump was in the back of her throat again, only this time it ached with longing and love and gratefulness for this man destined to love her.

She hated to leave the bed but knew how important it was to be on time. She showered and dressed in jeans, a long wool sweater, and riding boots. Ben was in one of the easy chairs typing on his laptop. “Everything all right at work?” she asked.

He looked up at her. “Yeah. Just a few fires to put out, as usual.”

“Do you like your work?”

He closed his laptop and set it on the ottoman. “Most of the time. It’s pretty stressful. The expectations for someone at my level are intense and I’m under terrible scrutiny to stay within budget. Plus, the personnel issues are endless. Did you know there are a lot of crazy people out there?”