Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Crime by Tamar Myers Page B

Freni could say that - which she did with some regularity - then so could I.
     
     
Art laughed openly. "Simmer down, Miss Yoder. I have no intention of firing you. To the contrary, I'm more interested in hiring you."
     
     
It was my turn to stare. "But I'm already hired. I work for you. I mean, I have a part in this movie."
     
     
Art lowered his voice just a smidgen. Not that he was becoming a recluse again. I think he just didn't want the others to hear. "This isn't a movie, Miss Yoder, this is a grade-B fiasco. I mean, I want you in a real. movie."
     
     
Staring too long, especially in a barn, can make your eyes water. "Then why are you here, filming this, if it's nothing but a fiasco."
     
     
Art spread his hands in a gesture of resignation. "It's a matter of a contract. You see, Miss Yoder, I'm under obligation to do one more picture with Reels and Runs Productions. Unfortunately for both parties concerned, the executive producer has abominable taste, and strong nepotistic tendencies."
     
     
I put my hands over my ears. "I don't listen to dirty talk, Mr. Lapata."
     
     
Art gently pulled my hands away. "Nepotism is when people give preferential treatment to their relatives. In this case, the executive producer, who is also our main financier, had his nephew write the script. The original script, at any rate. The one with all the bathtub scenes."
     
     
"That was pure trash."
     
     
"Exactly. And although I couldn't absent myself completely from the project, I tried to distance myself as much as I could."
     
     
"You did a good job. I was beginning to think you were a mute."
     
     
"If only I'd been deaf and blind as well. You see, not only did this nephew write the script, he was hired as my assistant director."
     
     
I stared again. I'm convinced that I suffer from a genetic tendency to have the eyes remain fixedly open when shocked. "You mean that Don Manley is, or was, the executive producer's nephew?"
     
     
Art nodded sorrowfully. "I should have fought it more. Even sued to get out of my contract if necessary. I guess I thought I was taking the easy way out."
     
     
"The straight-and-narrow path is often the hardest, but it is the right one," I said, quoting Mama. I don't think you can undo grave spins, but it can't hurt to try.
     
     
"Of course, I made a huge mistake. I see that now. And even after it was too late to back out, I should have stayed in charge. If I hadn't let Don take over so much, he might not have been killed."
     
     
"Maybe not here," I said without much pity, "but sooner or later."
     
     
"He was totally obnoxious," Art agreed.
     
     
We talked more at supper, much to Freni's dismay. She glowered at me every chance she got, and if she'd been one of those hexy Dutch instead of a God-fearing Amishwoman, I'm sure she'd have put a spell on me. Of course she need not have worried. I wasn't about to adopt Art Lapata, even though he was maybe a year or two younger, and I definitely wasn't in search of a boyfriend. After all, Saturday was only two days away, and Jumbo Jim had first dibs on my heart.
     
     
"Who wrote the revised script, then?" I asked. I was careful not to talk with fried potatoes or pork chop in my mouth.
     
     
"I did. What do you think? Honestly."
     
     
"Honestly?"
     
     
Art nodded.
     
     
"I like Green Acres better."
     
     
"I don't blame you. My Mother the Car had a better premise."
     
     
"Why don't you just tell the real story of the PennDutch murders?"
     
     
Art sighed. "Truth is, we couldn't get all the necessary releases. The congressman who was involved threatened to sue - "
     
     
"You mean ex-congressman, by now."
     
     
"Yeah, anyway, you get the drift."
     
     
Then something occurred to me. "Look, Art, I know you put a lot of work into the new script, but it isn't too late to change it, is it?"
     
     
"What's on your mind?"
     
     
"Well, you could tell a more realistic story. Instead of a mad Amishman and his out-of-touch mother, why