Frankly My Dear, I'm Dead. Livia J Washburn
with Luke looming behind him. He gave me a curt nod and moved on into the gallery. Luke didn’t try to stop him.
Instead he asked me in a quiet voice, “Was that guy botherin’ you, Miz D?”
“Oh, not too much. Just flirtin’ a little, I guess. Nothing I couldn’t handle. But I appreciate you stepping in like that, anyway.”
He nodded, looked satisfied with himself, and said, “That’s my job. I’m a troubleshooter. I see trouble, and I shoot it.”
“Didn’t Barney Fife originally say that?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“I hate to say it, but you’re gonna have to get used to things like that, Miz D, now that you’re single and out on the market again.”
“Being single is not the same thing as being on the market, Luke.”
“Yeah,” he said, like he hadn’t heard me, “a woman like you who’s good-looking in, uh, an older sort of way, you’ve got to expect to get some attention from those older, desperate kinda guys—”
“Luke,” I said, trying not to grit my teeth too hard. “Why don’t you go back to circulating, in case any of our clients need anything.”
“Oh. Sure, Miz D. But I’ll be close by if you need me. Just give a holler.”
“I’ll do that,” I promised, although I wasn’t sure I could think of a situation that would make me holler.
Boy, was I wrong about that.
After everyone had had a chance to go through the Visitors Center and have a look at Margaret Mitchell’s apartment, which has been restored to look as much as possible like it did during the years she was writing her novel, we all adjourned to Mary Mac’s Tea Room for lunch. I kept an eye on Elliott Riley, just to make sure he wasn’t bothering any of the other single women. He kept to himself, though, and didn’t even talk much to anyone else. Despite what had happened earlier, I felt a little sorry for him, obviously vacationing by himself like that. Had to be pretty lonely.
After lunch, we all returned to the Gone With the Wind Movie Museum, which was part of the Mitchell house on Peachtree Street. The exhibits there told the story of how the best-selling, Pulitzer Prize–winning novel became one of the most popular motion pictures of all time, and certainly one of the most eagerly awaited when it was first released in 1939. The lengthy search for the perfect actress to play Scarlett O’Hara, the troublesome production that saw four different directors, including Victor Fleming, George Cukor, and Sam Wood, and the producer, David O. Selznick, work on the movie at one time or another (despite the fact that only Fleming received screen credit—see, I told you I read up on this stuff), and the controversy over whether or not Clark Gable would utter an uncensored version of Rhett Butler’s famous final line from the book. You know the one I’m talking about.
A screening room in the museum showed vintage newsreels about the fabulous world premiere of the film in Atlanta, as well as a documentary about the making of the movie. Let’s be honest. As many people as have read the book, a whole lot more have seen the movie. Without Gable and Leigh, de Havilland and Leslie Howard, the story would be a lot less appealing. So most tourists are more interested in the movie museum than anything else. It has plenty to keep people entertained for quite a while.
While the tourists were wandering around the museum and watching the newsreels in the screening room, I found a quiet spot in a corner and caught my breath. Things were going well so far. I hoped that the word would get around about what a nice tour I had put together. We just had to get through the plantation visit the next day without any catastrophes occurring.
I had to rethink that a few minutes later when I heard an angry shout from inside the screening room. It was followed by another yell and then a growing commotion. I muttered, “Oh, Lord, what now?” and looked around for Luke and the girls. But I didn’t see them anywhere.
Whatever was going on in there, it wasn’t good. I hurried in that direction. A couple of security guards employed by the museum beat me to it. They slapped the door of the screening room open and ran inside. I got there two or three seconds later. My heart was pounding pretty hard, because I didn’t know what was going on in there. All I knew was that there was trouble.
And my hopes for a perfect tour were disappearing with every yell.
CHAPTER 3
The lights were still down, the newsreel playing on the big screen that had rows of seats curving in front of it. The glare from the screen was enough for me to see what was going on. A couple of men must have started fighting, and others had stepped in to pull them apart. Luke, in fact, had hold of a man I recognized as one half of the couple that had come all the way from Germany to visit the Southern states.
One of the security guards was hanging on to the other combatant—who was none other than the amorous Elliott Riley, definitely wearing a rug. I could tell that because it was skewed sideways a little on his head from the tussle.
“He is a thief!” the German shouted as he glared at Riley. “A thief, I tell you! He tried to steal my camera!”
“I never touched his blasted camera,” Riley insisted. “Let go of me, damn it.”
The other members of the group who were in the room, including Amelia and Augusta, were watching the confrontation like it was more interesting than what was on the screen. I suppose it was. It’s not often you see two grown men throwing punches at each other in public.
But all I felt at the moment was anger that something had gone wrong with my tour. My first tour. The one that was supposed to be perfect.
This was one instance when having a temper and a loud voice came in handy. I stepped closer and said, “Settle down, both of you. This isn’t a bar or a boxing ring.”
“He stole—” the German tourist began.
“I never—” Riley began.
“Hush!”
They all looked at me, including Luke and the security guard, and I realized that my voice had been really loud that time.
Amelia and Augusta said in unison, “Whoa.”
I tried to tone it down some as I went on. “Look, you’re ruining the tour for everybody else. Why don’t we step out of the screening room and try to settle this somewhere else, where we won’t be disturbing folks?”
“We can go in the security office,” the guard suggested.
I nodded. “That’s just what I’m talking about. Luke, you take over the tour for a few minutes.”
“Hadn’t I better go with you?” he asked with a frown.
“No, I want you looking after the clients. I’m sure I’ll be fine with—” I looked at the guard.
He supplied his name. “Dave.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine with Dave,” I went on, “and anyway, Mr. Riley and”—I searched my memory for the German’s name and came up with it—“Mr. Riley and Mr. Mueller are going to settle down and behave themselves. Aren’t you, boys?”
Both of them looked sullen. Mueller said, “I believe the police should be summoned.”
“Fine with me,” Riley said. “They can arrest this Kraut for attacking me and making wild accusations.”
Mueller’s face started to turn red again. “Kraut? Kraut?”
I took hold of Riley’s arm and hustled him out of there while Dave followed with Mueller.
I felt a sense of relief when the door of the security office closed behind us. At least this commotion wouldn’t be distracting my other clients from the tour anymore. But I still had to deal with Riley and Mueller and try to make peace between them. They