“As I said, maybe one of those films tells the story of the murder Harry committed. As a writer, I’d never forego telling a good story that I had experienced. I’d just hide the truth in the plot.”
He gave a small smile. “Does that mean that in one of your books is the story of why you didn’t marry my grandfather?”
“Yes,” she said. “It’s there, but no one knows which story or what book.”
“And no one knows that one of my father’s mystery movies is a true story.”
“Aren’t some of them about rage that drives a person to insanity?”
“‘Passion’ is what Dad called it. If it was a story about two gay men, as you said, the world then wasn’t ready for a movie about it.”
“So we need to look for a story that might have different genders.”
Troy nodded, but then looked up. “Or we could skip it altogether. We could forget the faraway past and just look at that one week. Oliver was blackmailing them, so we try to find out which one of them killed him to shut him up.”
“So who?” she asked. “Which one of these very nice people is going to have his or her life ruined by an evil man like Derek Oliver? Lea? Your mother? Rachel, who wasn’t supposed to be there? Reid? He seems mostly to have cut the grass.” Sara wasn’t going to tell that Reid would own the house until it was made public.
“I get your point. Something really big drove one of them into a killer rage.” He paused. “It looks like we need to try to find out anything that is remotely related to this. Maybe there will be clues that lead to a solution.”
Sara smiled widely. “I think you might have inherited Cal’s brain.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Tell me about my dad.”
That caught her off guard. “Oh. Well. Uh.” She quit talking.
“How can I tempt you? How about I do what I used to do for Dad? While I take care of all the people at the retirement home, you can stay in a room alone with your notebook for one whole hour.”
“Ninety minutes,” she shot back.
“You’re on. Now tell me about Roy.”
“Sugarcoated or the truth?”
“One hundred percent true. I can take it.”
“Jack has Roy’s motorcycle, and when your mom saw him on it, she fainted.”
Troy looked at her in surprise.
When the waitress returned and took their plates, Troy made two orders of three scoops of ice cream. Sara protested. Too many calories.
“I’ll eat them if you don’t want yours. What kind of motorcycle is it?”
“A huge Harley. Really big. Very noisy.”
“More,” Troy said.
Sixteen
When they got to Shadow Palms, Sara was happy to feel an atmosphere that was very different from the first visit. Now there was energy in the place. They could hear laughter down the hall. In the communal living room were boxes full of tapes and bound scripts taken from Lachlan House. The residents were rummaging through everything. There were murmurs of “I remember this movie” and “This was one of my favorites.” Troy was smiling proudly.
Billy was in his wheelchair and an orderly rolled him to Sara. He was looking at Troy, who was helping them unload the boxes. Billy nodded toward him, his eyes asking questions.
Sara grinned. “Roy’s son. Created at your house.”
Billy looked at Troy, a beautiful young man, and said, “Then my life has not been in vain.”
Sara laughed. “He’s here to hook up machines, and to entertain. I’m going to hide away with my notebook.”
