The Body in the Cast by Katherine Hall Page Page B

stuff. She thinks Max doesn’t know, so she wouldn’t have it at the house, where he might find it.” Cornelia’s face crumbled into the kind of pout it had assumed in earlier years when her father had said she couldn’t have a new pony. “They share the master bedroom suite.”
    â€œBut Max does know?”
    Cornelia nodded. Her mouth was full.
    Faith continued to think out loud. “What do you think? Does someone have a grudge against Max—or the crew in general?” She was eager to get as much information from Cornelia as possible before her old classmate ran off to save the movie—or, more likely, to put in an order for more cases of Calistoga water—and before Amy tired of the stroller. The baby was beginning to eye her mother’s lap with increasing determination.

    Cornelia looked decidedly uneasy. In fact, Faith realized, she’d been uneasy and tense since Faith’s arrival. Of course, this could be attributed to the events of the day before and a night Cornelia had complained about venomously to Faith, the caterer, on the phone. Yet it was also possible she was hiding something, or someone.
    â€œEveryone loves Max, or even if they don’t exactly love him, they’re thrilled to be working with him. I can’t imagine that this is directed against him.” Cornelia paused. “Unless it was Caresse. Little Miss Wonderful is far from his greatest fan right now. Her agent should have told her Max often writes people in and out of his movies once he starts shooting. There’s no need for her to carry on the way she is.”
    Faith didn’t care much for the child, but if Maxwell Reed was planning to cut her role, it would be a bitter blow and one that wouldn’t do anything to enhance her career. Cornelia might be onto something. Putting a laxative into everyone’s food was a very childish thing to do. And precocious Caresse probably knew about Evelyn’s cache. Caresse. It all added up, except for one thing. When did the merry prankster do it?
    Another thought occurred to Faith. “Has there ever been trouble of this kind on Max Reed’s other films?”
    â€œNo,” Cornelia answered fiercely, “certainly not. Oh, well, the usual tricks, especially at the end of a shoot when everyone’s nerves have been getting a little frayed. One of the PA’s found a lot of plastic maggots in her coffee during Maggot Morning, thought they were real, got hysterical, and quit. Then, of course, there were plastic maggots everywhere. And sometimes people prepare joke versions of certain scenes. However” —she squared her shoulders, shoulders that needed no pads—“the individuals who work on his films are professionals.
    â€œNow, I’d love to stay and chat with you all day”—Cornelia was up and flinging some money on the table—“but I’ve stayed too long already. Take care of the bill, will you?”
    Another kiss kiss, a vague good-bye to little whatever, and she was gone.

    â€œYou know she didn’t leave enough,” Faith told her daughter, who obligingly blew a few spit bubbles in agreement.
    She paid the bill and once again prepared herself and her child to meet the elements. It would be simpler, she’d told Tom her first winter in Aleford, to get sewn into a kind of quilted all-weather cocoon in October and emerge as a rank butterfly in May than constantly getting in and out of layers of clothing day and night.
    She wheeled the stroller toward the door, then, attracted by the warm smell of the burning logs in the other room, turned the corner to look at the fire. The logs were crackling in the fieldstone fireplace and the occupants of the tables lingering over coffee seemed to appreciate the ambience created. Two patrons at the table farthest from the door were not looking at the fire—or Faith. They were gazing into each other’s matchless eyes, gems of