Read Online The Body in the Cast by Katherine Hall Page - Free Book Online Page A

game? Wouldn’t any objections she’d had have been made when Max was casting in the first place? Maybe she hadn’t heard “Never act with children or dogs”—or hadn’t believed it. Whatever her opinion had been earlier, she was certainly definite now. Faith added a small bud vase with a single pale pink rose, a damask napkin, and appropriate cutlery. She knew from past experiences that catering to the stars meant exactly that.
    The tray dispatched, Faith, Niki, Pix, and the rest of the staff turned their attention to preparing for the stampede that would arrive shortly—not before Pix had voiced her irritation with little Miss Carroll, however.
    â€œYou know what I think about spanking,” she said. Faith nodded and quoted, “‘A parent out of control means a child out of control.’” Pix had taken some sort of parent-awareness classes at Adult Ed in between pierced lamp shades and folded star patchwork tree ornaments.
    â€œBut,” continued Pix, and it was a momentous but, “this child needs someone to turn her over his or her knee—and if I see her push her mother again, it’s going to be mine, no matter how much money America’s Sweetheart makes.” Having disposed of the problem of Caresse, Pix turned her attention to counting napkins, knives, forks, and spoons.
    Besides the soup, there were individual tomato and onion quiches, couscous with grilled vegetables, a salad bar, assorted breads, and a savory whole pastrami keeping warm under the lights, which made it look all the more appetizing—not too fat, not too lean. Mr. and Mrs. Sprat would have had a tough time deciding.
    â€œStations, everyone,” Faith called, and she tied back the tent
flaps. The heaters made the inside a cozy contrast to what was yet another typically “brisk” New England March day. People were beginning to straggle across the Pingrees’ lawn in search of sustenance when a call for help stopped them dead in their tracks.
    â€œFire!” somebody screamed. “Come on!”
    Everyone, including the caterers, rushed off in the direction of the house. The clapboard would go up like the kindling it was. Faith grabbed one of the fire extinguishers she had on hand and shouted over her shoulder for someone to get the other one.
    Once outside, they realized everyone was running toward the barn—the site of the fire made obvious by the thick cloud of black smoke billowing from the open door. It was mass confusion with a touch of mass hysteria. Two crew members—stunt—men, Faith discovered later—grabbed her extinguishers and disappeared into the smoke. The breeze spread the harsh odor of the fumes over the watching crowd. In what seemed like several hours but was in reality no more than twenty minutes, the stuntmen and the others who had gone in immediately with extinguishers from the set emerged. They looked none the worse for wear, except for smudged faces, shiny with sweat and tears from the smoke.
    â€œIt’s all over, folks. Oily rags. No damage, Max,” one of them reassured the director, who was hastening toward them.
    â€œHow did it start?” he asked.
    â€œYour guess is as good as mine. Maybe somebody sneaking a smoke.”
    Maxwell Reed had a hard-and-fast rule about smoking on the set—anywhere. He was fanatic on the subject. Not everybody was able to live with it, and the stalls in the honey wagon smelled a lot more like Luckies than Lysol.
    â€œI hope not,” Max said grimly, his eyes raking the group still assembled outside the barn. When he reached where she was standing, Faith felt instinctively guilty—for what, she knew not.

    â€œIt’s out now, and that’s the important thing.” Alan Morris moved quickly to douse these new flames. “Let’s eat, everybody.”
    It was out. And out before both bright red Aleford fire engines tore into the yard, sirens blaring,