Maddie patted my face with relief. “He’s not nearly as big as he looks in the movies. If anything, you probably hurt him.’’

“Well, not permanently,’’ I said with a smile.

“I’m just happy to hear you took care of it,’’ Savannah said. “Just so long as it wasn’t his face. Paul’s shooting Greg’s close-up scenes this afternoon.’’

“Oh, it wasn’t his face.’’ I told them what Tilton had done, and how certain he’d seemed that I’d be willing to play along. “I kicked his butt, and left him sprawled in a patch of poison ivy.’’

“Well, I’d say that’s right where he belongs, honey. Not that I approve of violence, but you had every right,’’ Mama said. “See if I ever ask him for his autograph!’’

Savannah reached into her purse. She slid a wrapped candy across the table. “I was saving this for later, but you need a treat from ‘Savannah City Confections’ more than I do. The pralines are good, but this chocolate’s to die for. They’re from my hometown.’’

I thanked her, and then asked, “When I first walked up, you said ‘I told you so.’ What did you mean?’’

She brushed back a thick lock of her graying hair. She really was pretty. She had Meryl Streep’s dignity, crossed with the perky Southern charm of Reese Witherspoon.

“Your mama had gone off to the little girl’s room when I sat down, but your sisters told me Greg followed you off into the woods. I had a bad feeling …’’

Marty said, “… and you were right.’’

Savannah’s nod was grim. “He fancies himself a ladies’ man. When a lady doesn’t agree, he’s been known to get really ugly, really fast.’’

“Is that personal experience talking?’’ I asked.

She cast her eyes down, her long lashes feathery against milky skin. Her voice was a whisper. “I’m not the only one.’’

Mama put a hand on Savannah’s arm. “Now, I’m doubly glad Mace gave him what for.’’

Maddie said, “How come we’ve never read about this side of Greg Tilton in People magazine?’’

Savannah lifted her shoulders. “There have never been formal charges, as far as I can tell. Women know if they come forward against a famous star like Greg, their whole lives become open for examination. Nobody wants to be hounded by paparazzi, or become the lead story in the National Enquirer.’’

Marty shook her head. “That’s not right. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’’

Savannah waved a hand. “Everyone makes excuses for him. And he did have a terrible childhood. His mom was an abusive drug addict who abandoned him, basically selling him for a pipe full of crack. He lived in a whole series of foster homes; most every one of them was worse than the last.’’

“How old was he?’’ Mama asked.

“Four or five when his mom sold him.’’

“Old enough to realize what happened,’’ I said.

“I can see how he might want to feel loved,’’ Marty said.

Maddie balled her fists and rubbed pretend tears from her eyes. “Oh, boo-hoo-hoo. None of that gives him the right to go forcing himself on women who aren’t interested in ‘loving’ him. He’s not the only person in the world who had it tough as a kid. A troubled childhood excuses nothing.’’

Savannah nodded. “You’re right, Maddie. There is no excuse. But it does help explain why he’s the way he is. And living in the bubble of Hollywood has just amplified it. When you’re a big star, you come to expect special treatment. No one ever says no.’’

When it comes to the word no, I was finding out that Hollywood people are a lot like spoiled toddlers, screaming for more in the checkout line at Toys “R’’ Us.

_____

Nerves always stimulate my bladder, so it was time for me to make a visit to the honey wagon.

Dispensing a butt-kicking, though, gooses my appetite. So, I made a detour on my way back by the craft services truck to check out the snacks. I grabbed an oversized brownie for myself, and two more, plus a cookie for the table.

I ducked my head into the catering tent, which was nearly empty between meals. I noticed Jesse in a corner, talking to Paul. I wondered if she was looking for praise from him about how she handled her scene. Unlike their aversion to hearing “no,’’ these people loved to hear about how great they were. Big egos and a lack of self-control seemed like a dangerous combination.

Toby and Johnny Jaybird sat at another table. Johnny, leaning in toward the younger man, was doing most of the talking. Though Toby’s eyes were aimed at the ground, his head was inclined toward Johnny. He seemed to be listening intently.

Mama’s husband was bonding over a cup of coffee with a tall, red-headed Teamster. The man had a New Yawk accent to rival Sal’s. I’d seen the teamster earlier in the week, radioing instructions to a driver arriving with an 18-wheeler filled with movie-making equipment. I had a fleeting urge to stop at their table and ask Sal if he’d spoken with Carlos. I didn’t want to seem so desperately female in front of two tough guys, though.

Excuse me, does my boyfriend still like me?

Outside, the raccoon had finished off the first half of Tilton’s sandwich, and was now working on the second. The animal seemed to be having some trouble with the plastic wrap, though. Raccoons are extraordinarily clever and dexterous, so I was confident it would prevail.

Back at our table, Mama’s face brightened when she saw the sweet treats.

“Just what we need!’’ She clapped her hands. “Eating chocolate is much better than talking about Greg Tilton. What a disappointment. I still remember him, guns blazing against the bad guys, in the first Western I saw him do. What a hero he was.’’

“Acting, Mama,’’ Maddie said.

As I sat, my gaze returned to the raccoon. It had dropped the sandwich, without managing to peel free the wrapping. In fact, the animal’s behavior was strange. It tumbled from the bench seat, and then had trouble righting itself on the ground. The coon zigzagged toward the woods, like a drunk trying to follow a straight line at a DUI checkpoint.

“Mace?’’ Mama’s voice sliced through the air.

“Hmm?’’ I said, turning to her.

“Pay attention! Maddie and I asked which brownie you wanted. What is so darned interesting over there that you can’t answer your mama?’’

“The big brownie is mine.’’ I turned back toward the animal, now walking in circles. “There’s something wrong with that raccoon.’’

“It’s a pest; that’s what’s wrong with it,’’ Maddie grumbled. “I’m cutting this biggest brownie in half for Mama and me. I left you the second-biggest one.’’

The raccoon seemed dizzy, off-balance. As I got up for a closer look, convulsions started racking the poor thing’s body. Then it stiffened, and plopped over on its side. By the time I got there, the raccoon was dead.

Kneeling next to the raccoon, I brushed at my eyes.

“Why are you crying?” Jesse stood over me. “You warned us over and over to stay away from them. You said they can carry disease. You called them beggars, no better than thieves.’’

“Yeah, I know what I said; but I think this raccoon was poisoned. None of God’s creatures should have to suffer like that.’’

“Poisoned?’’ Her eyes went wide.

I glanced over my shoulder at the bench. “We need to call the police over here to take a look at that sandwich. Meanwhile, we can’t let anybody get near enough to touch it, or take it.’’

I quietly asked her to sit at the table, so she could guard it from the curious, or maybe the nefarious. Before she went, Jesse pulled aside a production assistant. “You better let Barbara know about this.’’

The PA hurried off toward the production trailer.

Meanwhile, my sisters and Mama had joined me by the raccoon’s body. Murmurs moved in waves through the gathering crowd. I looked around, searching in vain for Tilton. In fact, I didn’t see any of the stars, aside from Jesse. Savannah had disappeared, too. If it was Tilton’s sandwich that killed the raccoon, I hoped he hadn’t eaten any. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want him dead.