Mama Sees Stars: A Mace Bauer Mystery by Deborah Sharp Page B

eye shadow matched everything else in Betty’s shop.
    Mama waved a hand airily. “Mace is exaggerating, girls. It’s nothing serious. Every once in a while, Sal has to be reminded of who’s boss.’’
    I snorted. “Keep flirting with that creepy director and we’ll have another murder on our hands. Either Sal will kill him, or Barbara will kill you.’’
    “Barbara?’’ All three of them turned puzzled frowns on me.
    I explained to D’Vora and Betty that Barbara was the dead producer’s ex-wife, and then said to Mama, “Anyone with eyes can see she has a thing going with Paul Watkins.’’
    “But he’s married.’’ Mama frowned. “We met that sweet wife of his. She’s a Southerner; name’s Savannah.’’
    D’Vora picked up a smock from the load she’d dropped on a chair and snapped it, as loud as a gunshot. “Oh, I’ve been there, done that. Since when has being married ever stopped a man from cheating?’’
    “Trouble with Darryl again, honey?’’ Mama looked up from her glue stick.
    Betty shook her head. “That boy’s name is trouble. D’Vora’s too good for him, and she’ll realize it someday.’’
    “That mo-ron brought home another rottweiler puppy.’’ She shook another wrinkled smock, crack. “Like that’ll make up for him staying out all night.’’
    “How many dogs is that now, honey? Three?’’
    “Four,’’ Betty answered for D’Vora. “In a trailer.’’
    “It’s a manufactured home,’’ D’Vora said.
    “If I were you, I’d skip picking up that 12-pack for Darryl on your way home tonight,’’ Betty said. “Drinking is a big part of that boy’s problem, and all you’re doing is enabling him.’’
    D’Vora’s eyes went wide. “Darryl’s got me so distracted, I forgot to tell y’all the biggest news. I saw Kelly Conover yesterday in this little tiny convertible, right behind me in the drive-thru at the Booze ‘n’ Breeze. No make-up, her hair all knotted from the wind.’’
    D’Vora waved her hands around her own immaculately done hair and face to demonstrate. “I was way up high in our pickup, and I could see her in the rearview. She had on a big ugly T-shirt with stains and sweat pants that looked like pajamas. She looked really upset. Not like a movie star, for sure.’’
    The gleam returned to Betty’s eye. “Maybe you could drop Kelly a hint about our services at Hair Today, Rosalee.’’
    Mama shook her head. “No can do, Betty. On-set hair and make-up artists take care of all that for those of us in the cast. It’d be like Buck at the feed store outsourcing his cattle supplements.’’
    “Maybe Kelly just needs a break from looking gorgeous. Did you ever think of that?’’ I asked.
    Mama gave a thoughtful nod. “I can tell you it’s an awful pressure to be famous for your beauty, girls. People judge you all the time.’’
    She stood, leaning close to the mirror to examine her face. Out came the Apricot Ice lipstick. She applied a fresh coat, and then popped her lips as if blowing herself a kiss. “I can understand just how that poor Kelly feels, bless her heart.’’
    The only sound in the shop was D’Vora, snapping those purple smocks.

I heard the music thumping from the Eight Seconds Bar even before I opened the door. Toby Keith was singing some song about putting America’s boot in the butt of the rest of the world.
    I took a deep breath of outside air, and walked in. The place smelled like man sweat and spilled beer.
    The lighting was dim inside the dive just over the Himmarshee County line. But it wasn’t so dark I couldn’t see Jesse Donahue doing a routine out of “Coyote Ugly’’ on the top of the bar. Several cowboys hooted, hollered, and cheered her on as she danced back and forth. She stomped her high-heeled boots, her long legs flying in her second-skin jeans. Between the jeans’ strategic rips and glittering rhinestones, and her breasts overflowing a matching rhinestone halter, she looked like she’d