“So Nick is very good at cleaning off the life casts when we’re finished.” She wiped a finger over my life cast. “These are still slimy with release agent.”
“That’s the stuff you use to keep the silicone molds from sticking to them, right?” asked Frank.
“Give that zombie a prize!” I joked.
Frank shook his head. “So what does it mean?”
“It means that someone else took molds of these after we did our thing,” explained Meredith. “Without the zombie sculpts.”
“So, if someone came in and took molds of just our faces . . . ,” Frank began.
“I see a lightbulb going on in that undead brain of yours,” I said.
Meredith smiled. “Someone could have easily made Frank and Joe Hardy masks.”
Frank didn’t speak as he took in the revelation. He glanced at Meredith, then at me. “So . . . you’re saying that someone in the makeup department is the saboteur?”
“What?” asked Meredith. “No, not my people.”
I held up both hands. “I already thought of that.” I turned to Meredith. “No offense.” I looked back to Frank. “Everyone here is clean. In fact, the whole makeup crew was here while you were busy chasing . . . me,” I explained. “Or the guy wearing the me mask.”
“So, where does that leave us?” asked Frank.
“It could be anyone on the crew, really,” explained Meredith. “You’d be surprised at how many movie people change departments. I started in props. Nick was in production, like Hugo.” She shrugged. “Any member of the crew could’ve learned mold making at some point. And we have all the chemicals here to do it.”
Frank and I looked at each other. “There are a lot of people on the crew,” I said.
Just then the door opened and Hugo poked his head in. “There you are,” he said. “After you get cleaned up, Mr. Kavner wants to talk to you.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Steve Kavner is the producer,” Meredith answered. “The big cheese.”
“Uh-oh,” I mumbled.
Meredith removed Frank’s zombie face. Once he changed out of his tattered costume, Hugo led us past the long line of trailers to an abandoned office building. At least, it was abandoned before the film crew came to town. Now it served as the production headquarters for the movie. The lobby was full of people, and the walls were decorated with actor head shots, storyboards, and production schedules.
Hugo led us to one of the larger offices in the back. He rapped on the open door and showed us inside, where a man in a blue blazer sat behind a large desk.
“Have a seat, boys,” he said without looking up from his computer.
Frank and I sat in the two chairs opposite the desk. Hugo backed out, closing the door behind him.
After a short time, Mr. Kavner closed his laptop and looked us over. He removed his glasses and ran a hand through his dark hair. “So, you’re the Hardy brothers I’ve heard so much about.”
“That’s us,” said Frank.
I laughed nervously. “I guess that depends who you heard it from.”
Kavner grinned. “Chief Olaf.”
“In that case, maybe it’s not us,” I joked.
The producer stood and walked to the front of his desk. “No, I think you’re just the guys I need to see. I had a very interesting conversation with your chief of police. He’d asked if I had met a couple of movie extras named Frank and Joe Hardy. I told him that I haven’t met everyone involved with my picture, certainly not the extras. And then he asked me a very strange question. Any idea what it was?”
Frank and I glanced at each other and shook our heads.
“He asked if either of these Hardy boys had offered to solve our little movie mystery,” Kavner explained. “And when I wondered why in the world you would do such a thing, he told me that you fancy yourselves fledgling detectives.”
“We are exceptional detectives,” I protested.
“Joe,” Frank said.
“We’ve probably solved more cases than Olaf has in his entire career,” I continued.
“Joe,” Frank repeated.
“We’ve solved dozens of Olaf’s own cases for him,” I added.
I opened my mouth to continue but felt a stab of pain in my ankle. Frank had kicked me.
Frank shrugged. “We dabble,” he said modestly.
“Well, maybe you can help me out,” Mr. Kavner said. “I know that you’ve heard about some of the shenanigans that have been going on during this production. And I know that you know about them because the chief mentioned that one of you, I forget which one, was a suspect for a short time.”
“I had an alibi,” Frank put in.
Mr. Kavner nodded. “Quite right. Well, maybe you can do some sleuthing for me and find out who has it in for this movie.”
I wanted to tell him that we’d already made some progress on the case, but something told me to hold back. Instead I said, “Uh . . . we could do that.”
Kavner threw up his hands and shook his head. “This is unofficial, understand? I can’t have anyone thinking that these accidents are anything but . . . accidents.”
“Yes, sir,” said Frank. I could tell by his clipped tone that he was picking up the same weird vibe as I was.
Mr. Kavner crossed his arms. “You know, if I were an unscrupulous man, I would want this production to shut down. My investors and I have this thing so well insured that we would probably make more money if this movie didn’t get finished.” Kavner laughed. “An unscrupulous man might even pay the saboteur or saboteurs handsomely for stopping this picture.”
He stared at Frank, then at me, then back at Frank. He did this for an uncomfortably long time. Neither Frank nor I said a word.
Then Kavner laughed again. “But not me. I just want to find out who’s responsible so we can stop them and finish this movie.” He extended a hand to Frank. “Do we have a deal?”
Frank shook his hand. “Uh . . . yes, sir. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”
Then I shook hands with Mr. Kavner. “You’ll be the first to know.”
“Good, good,” said the producer. “And make it quick, would you? I’ve already lost a stunt team over this.”
“I thought Cody Langstrom wasn’t seriously hurt,” said Frank.
Kavner smiled. “I didn’t mean lose, lose them, as if they’re dead and gone. I mean that they quit. And I have a couple other departments threatening to walk off this movie as well.”
Frank and I left his office and walked through the production headquarters without a word between us. Once outside, however . . .
“Was that strange, or what?” Frank asked.
“Too weird,” I agreed. Then I pointed to my brother. “Dude, he so thinks you did it. He practically bribed you to sabotage more stuff.”
“Could be,” admitted Frank. “Or maybe it was some sort of test.”
“What? He thought we would cop to it that easily if we were the culprits?” I asked. “I think he’s been watching too many of his own movies.”
Frank stopped. “Either way, we’re officially on the case now.”
“And if you ask me,” I said, “Mr. If-I-Were-an-Unscrupulous-Man just made it to the top of the suspect list.”
SCREEN CREDIT
11
FRANK
MICHAEL ELLIOTT,” I SAID. “HE’S the sound mixer.”
Joe tapped the virtual keys on his tablet, entering the name. He searched a couple of websites that listed all the crew members from different movies and TV shows. “Nope,” said Joe. “He’s just done sound.”
I scratched Mr. Elliott’s name off the list.
It was the following day, and neither one of us had any scenes in the movie. But that didn’t stop us from working. This time we played the roles we knew all too well—detectives.
We began our investigation with a visit to the production offices, where we grabbed a crew list, and then headed out to the lunch tent. We sat down and began scanning the
list for anyone who had experience working in makeup effects, specifically mold making. This method wasn’t foolproof, but it was sure to eliminate most crew members.
“Barry Smith,” I said. “He’s the gaffer.”
“What’s a gaffer?” Joe asked as he typed in the name.
“The person in charge of lighting,” I replied.
Joe searched the Internet for Barry’s past screen credits. “No on him, too. He’s just worked in electric and lighting.”
I scratched Mr. Smith’s name from the list.
We went through the entire list and ended up with only a handful of possible suspects. There was Bob Trevino, the special effects coordinator. At first he was near the top of the list, because he had tons of credits in prop building. Meredith had told us that prop builders make molds of things all the time. Add that to the fact that Trevino was an adamant eyewitness against Frank.
“I don’t know, dude,” said Joe. “He seemed pretty sincere when we talked to him.”
“He didn’t like anyone calling him a liar,” I agreed. “What about his assistant, Chuck? He had the same brown overalls as you—or fake you—were wearing.”
“That’s a good point. But I’ve seen tons of crew members wearing those things,” Joe explained. “The painters, some of the makeup crew . . . those overalls are everywhere.”
I sighed. “True.”
We went back to the crew list. There was Tom Rutherford, the prop master for the movie. We had seen him around but hadn’t had a chance to speak with him yet. And of course there was the entire makeup effects team. But Joe was steadfast in his belief that they were all innocent.
“I still think Kavner is suspicious,” he offered.
“Of course,” I agreed. “And having us investigate is the perfect cover.”
“Plus, he has a clear motive,” Joe added. “I don’t see a motive with any of these other people.”
We were so lost in discussion that we hadn’t noticed that the movie crew had broken for lunch. People were arriving with trays of food and filling the surrounding tables.
“Frank!” shouted a voice. I turned and saw Chelsea waving me over from two tables away.
Joe nudged me. “Go get her, tiger.”
I brushed him away as I walked to Chelsea’s table. She wore a white robe over her wardrobe and still had the fake gash on her cheek. As soon as I approached, she locked her arm through mine and pulled me to the nearest seat.
“I’m so glad I got you alone,” she said.
Don’t say something stupid. Don’t say something stupid, I told myself.
“Oh, okay,” I said. Boy, did that sound stupid.
But Chelsea didn’t seem to care. “I just wanted to thank you for what you did the other day.”
“You already thanked me for pulling you off that car,” I said.
“Not that.” She nudged me. “For ruining that scene.” She glanced around and then lowered her voice. “Was that part of the plan?”
“What plan?” I asked.
“The plan to stop the movie,” she whispered. “Everyone’s talking about what you two guys are doing.”
“We’re not . . . ,” I began. “I didn’t . . . we don’t have any kind of plan.”
Chelsea didn’t seem to hear. “Did my agent hire you? I was just telling him how I wished that I’d never signed on to do this stupid movie. I mean, at first I thought it would help my image, you know? Everyone still thinks I’m a kid. I thought that a horror movie would change that.” She leaned toward me. “But I didn’t think the movie would be this bad. I mean, I bet it goes straight to DVD, you know? I’m just so glad that you and your brother are putting a stop to it.”
“Whoa, wait,” I said, somewhat surprised I got a word in. “Joe and I are not trying to stop the movie. That’s not us.”
Chelsea didn’t reply at first. She just stared at me with her mouth agape. Finally she winked at me. “Right,” she said. “Whatever you say.”
She went on, telling me all about her dreams, aspirations, and future career choices. She told me how she really wanted to do a period film, but definitely no Shakespeare—he was too hard to memorize. Something more like Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. In her words, “You know, something classic.”
I finally broke away and returned to Joe’s table. After I filled him in, he asked, “Man, is there anyone who does want this movie to be made?”
“No kidding,” I agreed.
“Bro, I hate to say it,” said Joe. “But motive-wise, this puts Chelsea Alexander near the top of our suspect list.”
I sighed. “I know.” But honestly, it wasn’t such a blow. After spending a bit more time with her, I wasn’t as starstruck as I used to be.
Okay, I know that the real people are different from the characters they play on TV. I get that. And I truly didn’t expect Chelsea to be as smart as her Lieutenant Fraction character. But she wasn’t even as nice in real life as I thought she’d be. In fact, she only seemed to be into me after she thought I was some sort of criminal who could help her. Not cool. Still, no matter how much I got to know her, the real her, I couldn’t quite shake the tiny crush I’d had since age ten.
“Let’s attack this from the opposite angle,” I suggested. “Who really does want this movie to be made?”
“The guy who wrote it and is directing it, I would think,” replied Joe.
“Josh Biehn,” I said. “Let’s go talk to him. I could use a little positive conversation about this movie for a change.”
We caught Josh in his office in the production building.
“Hey, guys,” he greeted. “Come in, come in. Steve told me you were on the case.”
Josh seemed like a different person. Yesterday he was about to kick me off the movie. Today he was happy to see me.
“We actually have a few questions for you, if you have time,” I said.
“Sure.” He sat on the edge of his desk.
“Well, first of all, to be blunt,” Joe started, “do you know of anyone who would want to stop this movie?”
“That’s the thing,” said Josh. “I can’t figure it out for the life of me.”
“Well, Mr. Kavner mentioned insurance money,” I said.
The director laughed. “Steve’s always kidding around. And yes, this picture is well insured. But all movies are insured. And besides, there’s no way he’d ruin my first picture. We go way back to when I was a stunt performer in his early films.”
“Speaking of stunts, is it true that the entire stunt department has quit?” I asked.
Josh nodded and sighed. “Yeah. I can’t believe Cody would run out on me like that, but he did. We go all the way back to college.” He held up his hands. “But I don’t blame him. He has his reputation to think of, and if someone did get hurt during one of his stunts, sabotage or not, it would be on him.”
“Do you have more stunt people coming in?” I asked.
“No, there’s not enough time,” Josh replied. “We had to cut out most of the big stunts, and the few that are left I’ll do myself.”
“Isn’t that kind of risky?” asked Joe. “If someone has it out for you in particular, one of your upcoming stunts would be the perfect time to strike.”
“Stunts are risky, period,” Josh explained. “But with you guys helping us keep an eye out, I’m sure things will go fine.”
“When are the stunts happening?” I asked.
“And what are they?” asked Joe.
“Just check the call sheets,” said the director. “They list all the scene numbers for the day. You can use those numbers to look them up in the script.”
“Uh, we never got a script,” said Joe.
Josh’s eyes widened. “You didn’t?” He ran to the back of his desk. “Let me get you one.” He pulled open a drawer and rummaged through, pulling out a stack of pages held together with two brads. He presented it like a proud parent. “Let me know what you think.”
BURNED
12
JOE
I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY CHELSEA doesn’t like the script,” said Frank. “I mean, at the end—”
“Dude, I’m literally two pages away from the end!” I cut him off, waving the script in front of me. “Don’t blow it for me.”
Frank raised his hands and clamped his lips shut. He was already done up in full zombie makeup. It was weird how I was getting used to seeing him like that all the time.
Josh had only given us one copy of the script. Frank had read it the night before. Today was my turn, but I’m not as fast a reader as my brother. Now I was trying to cram in the last few pages while Nick applied my stringy zombie wig.
Finally I finished the script and put it down. “So Chelsea’s character was a zombie the entire time?” I asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
Frank shook his head. “No, it’s more like she’s a zombie carrier.”
“Or patient zero,” Nick explained. “The first person to be infected.”
I shrugged. “Okay, I guess that kind of makes sense.”
“The point is, it’s a pretty good story,” said Frank. “I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want it to be made.”
“Yeah, I don’t know either,” I said. “I’d go see this movie even if I wasn’t in it.” When Nick moved away to get more supplies, I leaned over to Frank. “So, now that we know the whole story, where will the saboteur strike next?” I whispered.
“How about the scene we’re in tonight?” Frank asked. “Isn’t some old shack supposed to blow up?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “There are zombies all around, and the survivors are trying to wipe them out with an explosion.” I smiled. “That’ll be cool to see.”
“Well, we’re going to have front-row seats,” said Frank.
I nodded. “Close enough to catch anyone who wants to throw a monkey wrench into the scene.”
Meredith’s makeup team had their work cut out for them. They had to create close to thirty zombies by nightfall, when the scene would be shot. Luckily, most of the extras didn’t have as detailed masks as Frank and me. Since they wouldn’t be seen up close, those extras simply wore full-face masks like you’d buy for Halloween. Our classmates—Eric, Amanda, and Hector—were even pulled in to fill out the undead troupe.
Deception on the Set Page 5