Daisy McDare And The Deadly Directorial Affair (Cozy Mystery) (Daisy McDare Cozy Creek Mystery Book 3)

by K. M. Morgan

  Daisy’s part in the production would be over within the week. She was part of the pre-production crew. The film itself was still in its rehearsal stages. A carpenter had built three different set pieces within the warehouse for filming, and while the cast and crew were still going over their lines, it was Daisy’s job to help decorate the set.

  She felt really good about her work so far. When she first started a week ago, the set was nothing but bare walls and empty floors. Daisy had given the place some seriously cute character.

  Decorating a bed and breakfast set gave plenty of leeway for personal style, in the same way that running an actual B&B did. Most B&B’s had very definite themes with their decor, and this one would be no different.

  The movie’s plot featured food very heavily, so Daisy decided to go with a culinary theme with her set decoration. She wanted the set to look quaint and cozy—a kind of place that the cake-baking main character from the script would feel right at home in.

  Daisy moved around a few accent pieces on one of the sets, then took a step back to get a wider view of her handiwork. One thought immediately came to her head—the set was cute as can be.

  The film’s director Hunter Hayworth walked up behind Daisy with other ideas.

  “No, no, no. This is all wrong,” Hunter declared.

  Hunter was not a man who was shy about his feelings. Daisy had a number of colorful words she could use to describe his personality, but she’d been brought up on the principle “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

  The fact was, Hunter thought he knew everything. His ego was as inflated as a hot air balloon. He was in his late twenties, with short sandy brown hair, and an athletic build. He recently graduated from film school and brought his ‘artsy fartsy’ avant garde attitude back to his hometown of Cozy Creek.

  Daisy used to wonder how a man with such haughty tastes could end up directing a light mystery romp like “Nothing Bundt Homicide.” The fact was, despite all his bluster and ego, his directorial skills weren’t in as much demand as Hunter liked to project.

  Movie directing gigs were hard to come by—in Hollywood, Vancouver, Cozy Creek, or otherwise. Rent and utility bills meanwhile demanded to be paid on time. Hunter felt this movie was below his skills. Taking this job was slumming it when it came to his artistic sensibilities, and he let everyone know it.

  At the same time, this was the only directing job he could get. And directing “Nothing Bundt Homicide” sure beat mothballing his film degree for some cubicle office job in order to make rent.

  The more Daisy got to work with Hunter, the more she realized he was a contradiction of a man. His ego was that of an academy award winner. His reality however was that of a man directing a puff movie to make ends meet.

  At that moment however, all Daisy cared about was how Hunter didn’t like her set decoration.

  Daisy furrowed her brow. “What’s the matter with it?”

  “It’s not my vision.”

  “What is your vision for the set then?”

  “Maybe the B&B owner is really into surrealistic art. Or wait—she has the place decorated with nothing but French new wave movie posters. No—I got it. A wall to wall classical music theme,” Hunter explained.

  Daisy’s eyes nearly got as wide as saucers. She tried not to wince or insult his ideas. The problem was, Hunter’s ideas were so out there, that it made the interior decorator side of Daisy feel queasy.

  Not to mention out of step with who the main character of the movie was. The protagonist of the film was a homespun, mousey woman, who loved eating cakes as much as baking them.

  It was almost like Hunter had read a completely different screenplay than the rest of the cast and crew. Still, as much as she disliked his ideas, Daisy wasn’t in a position of authority. Hunter was the director after all.

  Not to mention Daisy needed the money from this job. She had to answer with tact. She just hoped she could steer him in a more sensible direction.

  “Isn’t that three visions?” Daisy asked.

  Hunter looked like he’d swallowed sour grapes as he looked at Daisy’s set decoration again.

  “True, but they’re all better than this.”

  Daisy had to really hold her tongue now.

  “I think it’s really true to the character of Phyllis as she was written,” Daisy replied.

  “Who cares how she was written? This is my film. I’m the master of this filmic universe. If I want to change everything, I will. Got it?” Hunter said.

  Yikes. If Hunter’s ego wasn’t careful, it might need a new zip code before long.

  Daisy couldn’t believe how full of himself he was. Even more concerning were the changes he was suggesting. She could understand him wanting to tweak something here and there. He’d just dismissed her work outright. Daisy could deal with a bullheaded man, an insulting one was another issue entirely.

  Daisy tried to keep an even keel. “When you say everything--”

  “I want you to start over from scratch.”

  She finally had enough. Daisy stood up for her work. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to decorate,” Hunter said.

  “Which I’m doing, quite well I might add. You can say a lot about me, but I’m very good at my job.”

  Hunter stared her down. “Do you want to keep that job?”

  “Yes. Of course,” Daisy said.

  “Then scrap this. Redo all three sets with a surrealistic art theme.”

  “But--”

  Hunter wouldn’t even let Daisy get a word in edgewise.

  “This is not up for negotiation. Do it, or I’ll find a new set decorator,” Hunter said.

  Hunter was out of his mind. Things sure went south in a hurry. The man had no interest in listening to reason. He was beginning to look far more like a dictator instead of a director all of a sudden.

  Daisy wanted to tell him he was nuttier than a re-gifted fruitcake. The fact was, she had bills to pay of her own. So she agreed to make the changes, then calmed herself down with an impromptu cupcake break. The man who had been working with her on the set had mysteriously disappeared and a few people told her he had walked off the job because he couldn’t work with Hunter.

  “He’s the smart one,” she thought to herself as she gobbled down a cupcake.

  Chapter Four

  While Daisy was forced to start her redecorating work over from scratch, Hunter was busy making new enemies. Rehearsal was just about to start with the actors when the movie’s financier David Foster paid the set an unexpected visit.

  “What’s this I hear about you needing more money?” David asked, outraged.

  The warehouse was a terrible place to try and have a private conversation. Sound carried further than people realized. Not that David was making any effort to keep his opinions quiet.

  David was far from a silent financier. He was constantly checking up on the set, not to mention where his money was being spent. David wasn’t a movie producer by trade. He owned a local wealth management firm. That didn’t mean he wasn’t without definite opinions of his own.

  When David and Hunter clashed, it was a war of egos. They were like spitting images of each other, only thirty years apart. Hunter could easily turn out just like David—twice divorced, a walking midlife crisis with the bad toupee, and sports car to prove it.

  At fifty-eight years old, David wasn’t willing to compromise to make either of his marriages work, no less give in to the whims of a snot-nosed young punk director—especially when that director wanted more money.

  The way David saw it, he’d already given Hunter plenty. David had poured enough money into this project to buy a new boat, and a speedboat didn’t argue with him the way Hunter did. At the same time, this was a passion project for him—for a very personal reason.

  If David Foster had one soft spot, it was for his daughters. David had been a rather absentee father during both of his
marriages. His two ex-wives complained that he was married to his work.

  When he found out his two daughters felt the same way recently, he couldn’t help but feel regretful. Now he was trying to make up for lost time, to curry their favor in the only way he knew how—with money.

  His oldest daughter Fiona had always wanted to be an actress. Meanwhile his youngest daughter from his second marriage Isabel had eyes on being a screenwriter.

  Neither was having much success. This project was a way to jumpstart both of their careers at once, all the while making David look like a better father than he actually was.

  As rehearsals went on, it seemed amazing that Hunter was able to talk David into financing the film in the first place. Getting David to open up his wallet was no small feat. Of course, it had come with a catch.

  In exchange for the money, Hunter had to agree to two conditions. The first was to give David’s daughter Fiona a part in the movie. Hunter reluctantly agreed—with good reason. Fiona had become more of a handful on the set than Hunter had anticipated.

  The second part of the deal was that the film would use a script written by David’s younger daughter Isabel. This movie would be a family affair alright, with Hunter caught in the middle. With that kind of nepotism at play, any disagreement between Hunter and the Foster family could cause sparks to fly. Did they ever.

  In the meantime, there were money matters to deal with, and Hunter was in no mood to have it out with David in front of the cast and crew. If there was one thing Hunter couldn’t stand, it was having his authority undermined—especially by someone he just viewed as a money guy.

  Hunter turned to David.

  “Why don’t we have this conversation somewhere a little more private?” Hunter suggested.

  Hunter and David walked away from the actors and over towards the catering table. While their conversation was out of the earshot of the actors in the rehearsal space, Daisy could hear them perfectly from the set pieces a short distance away.

  David cut straight to the chase. “Why are you trying to pump me for more money?”

  “You want this to be a good movie, don’t you?” Hunter replied.

  “Of course I do.”

  “I can’t do that without more money.”

  David nearly blew his top. “I wrote you a check for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to believe, but in the movie world, that’s chump change.”

  David narrowed his eyes. “As I recall, I’ve been the only one willing to pay for your services. Hollywood isn’t exactly knocking your door down.”

  Hunter hated to be called out. “Don’t act like you didn’t get a good deal. Hollywood has been giving the cold shoulder to your daughters for years.”

  “Leave my daughters out of this,” David warned.

  “I’d love to leave your daughters out of this project entirely. They’ve been one headache after another,” Hunter griped.

  David stared him down. “You’re heading down a dangerous path.”

  “Look, let’s not kid ourselves here. If you think you’re going to get a director with my skill level to work in Cozy Creek for this little of a paycheck, you’re crazy.”

  Bluster and ego aside, Hunter did have talent behind the camera. Frankly, that was the only thing he had going for him at this point. If he was a hack director, he would have definitely been replaced by now.

  Hunter’s calling card was a visually dazzling short film he directed in school. Granted, the plot was aggressively uncommercial—it was about an avant garde mime after all. But from a technical standpoint at least, Hunter knew his way around a movie camera.

  If this project proved anything, it was that skills could only carry him so far—especially when his attitude was beyond reprehensible.

  “You’re not the only director in town,” David insisted.

  Hunter didn’t back down. “Yeah I am, and you know it.”

  “What about Logan Lark? Maybe I was wrong about him at first. My daughter has been telling me good things about him.”

  “That’s because she’s sleeping with him.”

  “True, but my daughter isn’t a liar.”

  When the movie was first announced, Fiona’s boyfriend Logan Lark jumped at the chance to be the film’s director. Despite his ambition, Logan just didn’t have much experience behind the camera. In the end, David decided on Hunter because of his film degree and raw talent instead. It was clear David was regretting choosing Hunter more with each passing day.

  Hunter scoffed. “You’re lying to yourself if you think Logan could pull off this movie. Marty’s Mattress Mart wouldn’t even hire him to direct an ad spot for their showroom, and that mattress store has some of the worst commercials I’ve ever seen. If you put him in charge of this shoot, it will be a train wreck.”

  “What makes you think you’re the know all, end all?”

  The conversation was turning into an emotional volcano, ready to erupt at any time. Hunter and David looked like they could tear each other’s throats out.

  “I know more about making movies than you do. You’re the money guy, I’m the creative guy. So go back to making more money and let me do my job,” Hunter insisted.

  David stared him down. “Fine. But you’re not getting another dime from me.”

  “You’re making a big mistake.”

  “Stop pushing your luck.”

  “I’ll find a way to change your mind somehow,” Hunter threatened.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” David replied.

  David then walked away, leaving Hunter to stew.

  Daisy watched the conversation from a distance as she was decorating and couldn’t help but think there was sure a lot of drama on the set considering they were working on a movie called “Nothing Bundt Homicide.”

  Chapter Five

  The emotional fireworks were far from over. Rehearsals were fraught with conflict as well. While Daisy tried to appease Hunter’s artsy fartsy decorating whims with a complete revamp of the set pieces, the cast ran through their lines with Hunter, his assistant director Logan Lark, and the screenwriter Isabel Foster watching.

  The scene they were rehearsing was the closing scene of the movie, featuring the two leads commiserating after catching the killer.

  Candy Caldwell played the female lead role of Wanda Whimsy, a pastry chef staying at the B&B on vacation who turns into an amateur sleuth and finds the killer when the local police bungle the investigation.

  Ethan Crabtree played the male lead role of Drake Dalton, a private investigator who helps Wanda Whimsy solve the case while slowly falling for her.

  Candy Caldwell had beauty pageant good looks and the brains of a dodo bird. Then again, men weren’t interested in her for her smarts. Sparkling conversation wasn’t her strong suit. In between acting auditions, the twenty-eight year old did modeling work in local car dealership commercials and department store newspaper circulars.

  Ethan Crabtree was no slouch in the looks department either. He was a tall, hunky man with a square jaw, short black hair, and tightly-toned muscles that he’d worked hard in the gym to maintain. When not waiting for his big acting break to come by, the twenty-nine year old waited tables at Rizzuto’s Ristorante.

  The actors ran through their lines to finish the scene as the rest of the cast and crew watched.

  “I guess after all that’s happened, I can’t interest you in a slice of cake,” Candy said.

  “No. But I can think of something even more delicious,” Ethan replied.

  “What’s that?” Candy asked.

  Ethan then leaned in to kiss Candy, as written in the script.

  “Stop,” Hunter insisted.

  Ethan’s lips were still in transit however, and plenty eager to press against Candy’s. It was all too clear there was more at play than just Ethan’s character being attracted to Candy’s character on screen. Off screen, Ethan burned for Candy as well.

  It wasn’t uncommon for actors playing lo
vers in movies to develop a relationship when the camera wasn’t rolling. In this case, Candy wasn’t having any of it. She was romantically spoken for and had fallen head over heels for another man. Ethan was having a hard time accepting that, preferring to try and blur the lines between reality and fiction.

  Ethan couldn’t believe Hunter stepped in to quash his plans.

  “What about the kiss?” Ethan asked.

  “This is rehearsal,” Hunter insisted.

  “There’s nothing wrong with rehearsing a kiss—you know, to make it look as genuine as possible,” Ethan replied.

  “No way. That’s not going to happen. It’s going to be uncomfortable enough having to kiss you when the camera is rolling,” Candy admitted.

  “Come on, it’s not like you’ve never kissed me before,” Ethan boasted.

  Candy and Ethan had a romantic past. One Ethan was trying to rekindle, and that Candy was trying to put behind her.

  Candy winced. “Don’t remind me.”

  “Why not? We had a magical relationship,” Ethan recalled.

  Hunter wanted to put an end to the reminiscing in a hurry. “I’ve actually been thinking about cutting the kiss from the script entirely,” Hunter said.

  There was a mixed reaction to that. Candy was delighted by the news. Ethan gritted his teeth in frustration. But it was the screenwriter Isabel Foster that had the most guttural reaction.

  “What?” Isabel asked, completely outraged.

  Isabel felt very possessive about her writing. Her words were all ‘special little snowflakes’ she thought, and she didn’t want anyone messing with them. She was David’s youngest daughter--just twenty-four years old. Isabel was a product of her father’s second marriage, but she drew most of her personality traits from her mother.