“These match my eyes,” she says. “Obviously I’m meant to wear them.”
Edna Blanchett shakes her head and hands her a brown fin instead. The actress is not happy.
“I heard Delphine refuses to speak to anyone unless they address her by her character’s name. She never breaks character on set,” another mermaid says. “Can you just imagine?”
“That isn’t true,” one of Edna’s assistant costume designers speaks up. He has blond hair, and, like Edna, a measuring tape dangles around his neck. I detect a bit of an accent on him. It might be Spanish or French.
“What makes you so sure?” the mermaid asks.
“Because I’ve worked on every film with her.”
“Oh, la-di-da.” The mermaid moves on.
“What is she like?” I ask him.
“She’s a professional. Always. A perfectionniste. A star in the truest sense,” he says. “Sadly, this role is beneath her. She should be doing a real film. I can play a sea creature, but Delphine? She deserves so much more.”
Boy, someone really has an opinion. Grumpy Costume Guy continues to talk about how monster movies aren’t award winning or artistic. He has a lot of opinions about the matter.
“Maybe she likes making movies that make people happy or scared,” I say. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“She deserves to act in the greatest films, not a movie like this one,” he says. “Back at Powerhouse, Delphine was set to play her first dramatic role. It would have been a nod to her small-town roots. I was going to be cast alongside her as her brother, but then—”
“Faire taire!” says Edna Blanchett. The assistant quickly pipes down and gets working on another costume. I guess Edna doesn’t tolerate talkative costumers. It’s odd that he seems so sure of what Delphine should do with her life. He kind of reminds me of Mr. Davenport, thinking about what’s best for Delphine when she can do that herself.
“Darling! Isn’t this quite the scene?” I detect a familiar whisper talk.
“Miss Dupart, so good to see you!” Miss Dupart is up next to be transformed into a mermaid, although she already looks like one with her majestic jewelry. “What’s your role today?”
Miss Dupart leans in and makes sure those around her are not listening. “I’m meant to play a sort of mother figure to the mermaids. Only makes sense since I am the most regal person here.”
She gestures to the crowd, sweeping her arm across for illustration. Miss Dupart is already in character as a Mermaid Mama. There’s really no point in a costume. Miss Dupart is a real queen.
“I just saw your mother. She already looks like my mermaid sister,” Miss Dupart says. “What will you be changing into?”
I look around. Everything is so gender specific. If you’re a girl, you’re a mermaid. If you’re a boy, you’re a sea creature. “If it were up to me, I would be both. A sea creature mermaid! But I’m on the job, so I don’t get to participate.”
A makeup assistant calls out, “Next!” and Miss Dupart takes her seat to be primped and prepped.
“My fans are waiting,” Miss Dupart says.
“I’ll see you on the set. Break a fin!”
The line is so long it continues outside the club. I walk along it, searching for Mom. It doesn’t take long. She’s already commanding a crowd. I can tell by her expression that she’s regaling them with a story. Mom is a great storyteller. I’m almost certain her storytelling skills were passed down to me.
“Mom!”
“Hey, babe. Everyone, this is Goldie, my daughter.”
The crowd greets me with hearty hellos and more: “What a gem!” “You are truly blessed.” “Is she a mermaid, too?”
Mom beams with pride. “No, no, no. Goldie is here on official hotel business. Right, Goldie?”
“I sure am,” I say. “Just doing my rounds.”
Those in the line nod.
“Isn’t she something?” Mom gives me a really tight hug. It’s nice working alongside her. I can’t wait for Mom to meet Delphine. I think they would really hit it off. They both have a lot in common. They are both actresses, they both love the water, and they both think I’m swell.
In mid-hug, I spot him. The guy from the bushes, the photographer who tried to take Delphine’s picture. He’s in line pretending to be an extra. There’s no way he’s going to get away with this.
“Hey, I know you,” I say.
“Don’t know you. I’m just one of the sea creatures,” he says, pulling down his baseball cap to cover his face. He can’t fool me.
“No way, mister. You’re the photographer.” I can see his camera bulging from underneath his jacket.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. I’m here to get my first movie break just like everyone else.”
The crowd slowly turns to him. They’re not buying what he’s selling, either. St. Pascal is a small town, and like I said, everyone pretty much knows everyone. Besides, I’m really good at remembering faces.
“Sorry, you’re out of luck. I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
The photographer frowns. He’s caught and he knows it.
“Let’s go, sir.”
Mike, the Mermaid Club owner, pops up from backstage. “Need help, Goldie?” he asks, giving the photographer the evil eye.
“Nope. I got it all under control,” I say. “But thanks, Mike.”
“Okay, okay, I’m leaving. No problem.” The photographer lifts his hands up and reluctantly follows me. “Listen, kid. What are they paying you? Interested in a side job? Tell me what’s going on inside, and I’ll compensate you. What do you say?”
He talks really fast. I guess when you are in his line of business, you must be born with a rapid-fire tongue.
“There’s nothing to see,” I say. “Just a bunch of mermaids.”
“Yeah right. I heard there’s a big-time movie actress in the club right now. What do you say you just look away and allow me to do my job?”
I shake my head.
“Sorry, sir.”
“You can call me Scoops Malone.”
“Well, Scoops Malone, it’s my job to keep the likes of you off this set. My advice to you is to find another movie to bother.”
“I can see you won’t be changing your mind soon. Don’t worry. I’ve got my ways.”
It looks as if Scoops is going to make my job a litter harder. That’s okay. I’m ready.
He walks off and I stand alert by the entrance. He won’t get past me. That’s for sure.
Chapter Eight
ALTHOUGH THE EXTRAS HAVE BEEN TOLD TIME AND again not to address Delphine or look at her, she does not do the same. In fact, she does the exact opposite. Delphine greets every one of the extras warmly, smiling and asking them how they are doing. She jokes with the crew and the cameramen. When Miss Dupart is placed farther back in the crowd, Delphine somehow notices the oversight and corrects it by making sure Miss Dupart stands right beside her. Miss Dupart, like everyone else on the set, instantly falls in love with her.
Really can’t say the same thing for Mr. Davenport.
“Hey, you, the one with the big head. Move far to the left,” Mr. Davenport says, as his cigar smoke swirls above the entire set, which reeks of the awful stench. It’s hard to make out who is the director of this film when Mr. Davenport seems to be dictating every single shot.
Apparently, shooting just one scene can take hours and hours. It is by far the most tedious thing I’ve ever had to witness. The director yells action, the actors do their thing, the director yells cut, and then Mr. Davenport complains about what is wrong with the scene. They shoot again and the cycle begins anew. I don’t know how Delphine and the rest of the actors on the set can stay in character. As Dad always says, I’m way too antsy to be kept in one spot.
“Quiet on the set!”
Delphine descends from the backstage wearing the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. Her Technicolor costume practically exudes its own spotlight. She radiates.
> “There needs to be better lighting on her,” barks Mr. Davenport. “No one is going to see the diamonds.”
I don’t understand what Mr. Davenport is talking about. Martians on Mars will be able to see the Aqua Chapeau. Its brightness takes over the entire set. The first time Delphine appeared, everyone—and I do mean everyone—completely gasped. The sight was pure magic. Mr. Davenport should have his eyes examined.
While all that’s going on, I step outside of the club to make sure Scoops doesn’t decide to make a return visit. The sun is setting in St. Pascal with the sky transforming into rich colors of orange and red. Today has been a pretty long day, and it doesn’t look like it will be ending any time soon. Detective life can’t always be full of excitement. For the most part it’s just this: walking around and waiting for something to happen. At least I get the chance to see the sun slowly dip into the horizon. What a view.
“Ahhhhhhhh!”
Oh no! I hear a scream from inside the club. I run in to find the place is completely dark. Who turned off the lights? Suddenly, there’s a sound of someone crashing into something. Another scream. This is not good.
“Stop moving, people! Not one step,” a voice says. “Not a one.”
The Mermaid Club lost all its lights. Lucky for me, I always carry my flashlight around for such occasions. I switch it on and try to shine a light on the chaos.
“Too much power,” another voice says.
“Well, turn it back on!” shouts Mr. Davenport, the only obvious voice in the darkness. I carefully locate Delphine and Mom and Miss Dupart. They are doing okay.
“Well, isn’t this something?” Delphine says. “Perhaps we should change the movie to something way more mysterious like The Invisible Woman. What do you think, Goldie?”
“This is a fairly old building. It can’t possibly sustain all that electrical juice being generated by so many cameras and lights,” I say. “They’ll have to unplug.”
Unless of course someone turned the lights off on purpose! We may be in the dark, but I concentrate extra hard to listen to any unusual noises. The only good thing is that both Delphine and the diamond cap are right beside me.
“They should start with the dressing rooms.” Even in the pitch dark I can recognize Mom’s sweet voice. “Ms. Lucerne, if you take two steps back you can sit down on your throne. That swimming cap can’t possibly be comfortable on your head.”
I flash my light so Delphine can see what Mom means. She slowly takes one step, then two.
“Thank you. I feel like my head is about to roll off with this thing,” she says. “It’s true what they say: Beauty is pain.”
“Whoever came up with that should be forced to wear a crown and Mom’s mermaid fins and—” I say.
“My girdle,” Miss Dupart says.
Delphine and Mom laugh, as do most of those waiting around us.
“Quiet on the set!” someone yells. And just when my eyes have adjusted to the dark room, the lights turn on.
“Goodness! And here I thought we were going to live in the dark forever,” Delphine says. She turns to Mom. “This thing…”
“Let me help you there.” Mom reaches out to the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau. To alleviate the weight, she lifts it slightly off Delphine’s head.
“I didn’t realize how heavy this thing is,” Delphine says.
“It’s quite beautiful,” Mom says. “What with all those diamonds, it must weigh a ton.”
“It actually weighs ten pounds with over thousands of diamonds.” The assistant costume designer from earlier speaks up. “It is the most expensive swimming cap ever made. It took hours and hours to produce. Nothing has ever been created with such precision and beauty.”
The extras around us “ooooooh” in unison.
“I second that. It is quite beautiful,” Delphine says. “Edna did amazing work.”
I make a note to myself: The assistant knows a lot about the diamond cap. I wonder if he was in charge of setting and sewing all those diamonds. It would explain his air of confidence and the chip on his shoulder. It looks like a lot of hard work!
Mr. Davenport storms over to Delphine, pushing everyone, including the assistant, out of the way.
“What do you think you are doing?” he asks Mom.
“Cecil, stop fussing,” Delphine says and rolls her eyes. “She’s simply offering me some relief.” Mom gently places the swimming cap back on Delphine’s head and returns to her mermaid position. Mr. Davenport shoots her a glare. “I don’t understand why they couldn’t have used the prototype to film. No one would have been the wiser.”
“Let’s continue!” Mr. Davenport shouts, ignoring Delphine’s quip about the prototype.
They shoot one more shot of Delphine on her throne, addressing the court, but everyone can see she’s tired. Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter; it’s time to film the underwater scenes. Mom and two of her coworkers are to dance around Delphine as a sort of homage to the queen of the ocean. While everyone else takes their places, the actress goes off to change into another elaborate costume.
“Poor Delphine,” I say to Mom. “I know the saying is ‘the show must go on,’ but maybe sometimes it shouldn’t.”
“She’s a pro just like us all,” Mom says. “I better go. The choreographer wants to go over the routine one more time.”
When Delphine arrives she’s in a majestic green sequin swimsuit with matching makeup. The cap is once again secure on her head. The choreographer walks over and takes Mom, Delphine, and the other dancer to the side. She starts counting and clapping her hands while the three rehearse their dance moves. I notice how the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau seems to slip from Delphine’s head every time she does any elaborate motion.
“Don’t worry. It should hold up in the water,” the choreographer says. “Why don’t we go over the dance routine one more time?”
I keep an eye on them while also paying attention to everything else on set. With so many people, it’s challenging. The lights turning off could easily have been caused by a blown fuse, but I’m going to investigate that further as soon as I can.
“I don’t know about this,” Delphine says. She hesitates at the edge of the tank. The choreographer, Katherine Robbins, urges Delphine to enter the water.
“It’s important you count to five, then flip,” she says. “Always remember to lift your face toward the camera.”
Mr. Davenport yells to begin. I’d like to see him try to learn this much choreography as quickly as these women and wear such a heavy cap. It does not look easy.
“It’s going to be great,” Mr. Davenport says.
Delphine enters the water and is quickly surrounded by the dancers. They start their choreographed moves. It’s a pretty simple setup. Mom has been doing dances like this for years at the Mermaid Club. They look beautiful with Delphine right in the center of it, like oceanic royalty. But every time she tries to do a somersault in the tank of water, the Bejeweled Aqua Chapeau finds a way of slipping off her head. To avoid it floating to the bottom of the tank, Mom must help secure it. They swim up to the surface before trying again.
“No touching Delphine or the chapeau,” Mr. Davenport says to Mom. Mom opens her mouth to defend herself, but she thinks twice.
“Delphine. It’s a one-two count, flip, and look at the camera,” Katherine says. “Try to ignore the cap and do it like we’ve been practicing.”
They try again but the same thing happens. The cap slips off, and Mom is forced to help Delphine. They do it once. Then twice. Same thing. Mom rushes to make sure the cap doesn’t fall off Delphine’s head.
“Don’t touch the chapeau!” Mr. Davenport roars again. Delphine is getting upset and so is Mom. Instead of explaining what’s happening, Katherine just gives Delphine silly pointers on how to keep dancing. I can’t take it anymore. Mr. Davenport and the choreographer must see this is not working. Mom is only trying to help. I can’t just stand here silently.
“Mr. Davenport! It’s obvious the swimming cap is
too much for Delphine to dance in,” I say. “And my mom is only trying to help. You should figure out another angle to shoot from or give Delphine a break.”
Everyone is stunned into silence. I might have said all this a little too loudly. I guess Mr. Davenport is not the only one screaming on the set today.
“You, out of here. Right now.”
Mr. Davenport signals at two of the security guards to escort me off the set. I can’t believe this is happening. My first big detective break and I’m managing to royally mess it up.
“Cecil, she’s just a child,” Delphine says.
“Exactly. No kids on the set,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“But, Mr. Davenport, I’m here to help.”
“Your services are no longer needed,” he says.
Although Delphine pleads for me, Mr. Davenport refuses to budge. There’s nothing I can do. I have to leave. Before I head out the door, Mom gives me a quick wink. I’m so bummed out. I should have kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t help it. Mr. Davenport is too quick to yell at people, overlooking how everyone only wants the best for Delphine and the movie.
The security guards, who are very polite, walk me to the entrance of the Mermaid Club. I’m not going to beat myself up for speaking out, so I continue working. I don’t have a choice. Mr. Davenport might think I’m off the clock, but a detective’s work is never done. I might as well use this time to figure out what really happened with the blackout.
Outside, the crowd that was here earlier trying to catch a glimpse of the movie making has gone home. I start to look around for anything weird. I’m sure the fuse box is out in the back somewhere. Better take a look. I take a stroll around to the rear of the club, making sure to keep my eyes peeled for anything that might stand out.
The fuse box is open. There are a couple of footprints, signs of it having been worked on by several people. Nothing unusual. But wait, what’s this? Lying on the ground is a small white piece of paper. No, it’s not a paper. It’s half of a matchbook with a couple of matches still attached. It’s barely decipherable, but the matchbook is definitely one of ours. I can tell by the drawing of the palm tree and the exterior of the Crossed Palms Resort. On the back of the cardstock is some scribbling I can’t make out. Strange.
The Hotel Whodunit Page 7