The Case of the Rising Star

by Zavo

It had hardly changed since my last visit: the towering marble arches and the guard shack on our left. Visible through the entrance was a flurry of activity. When our turn came we pulled up to the guard shack. The security guard in the cubicle was middle-aged, and he seemed genuinely happy to be working there. He greeted us with a big smile, stated his name, bid us a good afternoon, and asked our names and who we were here to see. When I gave him Gordon’s name his face lit up even more, which I hadn’t thought possible.

  “Ah yes, Mr. Maxwell. He’s a fine young talent, with many visitors. Let me check my list.”

  He retrieved a clipboard from his desk and turned back to us. Several seconds passed while he scanned it. When he found my name he made a decisive check with his pen.

  “Mr. Maxwell is working on Lot Twenty-two today. Here is a map of the studio grounds. Drive through the gate and park in the visitors lot, to your right. You’ll find a second guard station there. That security guard will notify Jonathan Clark, Gordon’s assistant, of your arrival. He will escort you to the set. Have a nice day.”

  I thanked the man and after the gate opened he waved us through with a large smile. As I drove cautiously to avoid the flood of people, Daniel unfolded the map. Fortunately for us, everything was laid out in a giant grid and was very clearly marked. This made it easy to find the visitors lot, although it took us a good ten minutes to get there, due to the constant stream of people, cars, etc. If my bearings were correct, we were at the farthest corner of the lot, adjacent to the main road leading to the studio. To our left, low hills could be seen above the massive adobe wall surrounding the studio. I pulled into a parking space and we both got out of the car. To our left was another barricade with a second guard shack. This security guard was just as friendly, greeting us warmly when we approached.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you on this fine fall day?”

  When I gave him our names, he checked an identical clipboard. Finding what he needed, he picked up a telephone and called Jonathan.

  “Wait here, Mr. Steele. Mr. Clark will be here shortly to escort you to the location shoot.”

  While we waited, in the distance I could see the main street of a Western town laid out. I wondered if this was part of the motion picture Gordon was currently shooting. I realized there could be other Westerns Paramount was currently working on. The studios were producing motion pictures at a fast clip these days. After only a minute or two, Jonathan drove up in a car provided by the studio to drive actors and guests around the lot. The guard opened the gate and Jonathan stopped the car in front of us.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen. It’s nice to see you again.” He shook hands with each of us.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Jonathan. Did anything more untoward happen after we left Gordon’s?”

  “No. Lieutenant Grogan didn’t learn anything from the neighbors. He also did a second sweep of the grounds, but found nothing suspicious. Mr. Maxwell is planning to hire more armed guards to patrol the estate and the interior of the house till this mess can be resolved.”

  “I can recommend an excellent security firm for Mr. Maxwell, Jonathan.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Steele. I’ll let Mr. Maxwell know that. Now, if you’ll take a seat, we’ll be on our way. This studio is ten times bigger than the part you’ve already seen. It covers several dozen acres. No one walks anywhere, especially in this heat. I need to ask before we head out, do you have the next two hours free? Mr. Maxwell felt that amount of time would be necessary to get the full feel of a movie set.”

  “We have the time. Thanks, Jonathan.”

  Daniel and I settled on the seat behind Jonathan. As we drove away the guard lowered the barrier behind us. Jonathan kept up a steady stream of chatter as he expertly maneuvered through a plethora of moving obstacles: cars identical to ours, numerous pieces of scenery and props being hauled to various sets, and a steady stream of people, many of them in period costumes or other strange garb. It was clear everyone was in a great hurry, as befitted one of the busiest studios in Hollywood.

  But the entire scene seemed to be propelled by ordered chaos. Soon we were driving down the main street of the Western town I had seen from the other side of the gate. Jonathan explained that this was one of the main sets where Gordon’s current picture, Men of the West, was being filmed. He further explained that today’s filming was to take place in the wooded hills of the back lot, about a mile from here. Gordon, as Sheriff Jared Duggan, was following the trail of a band of outlaws who had just robbed the town’s bank. Riding with him was his trusted deputy, Anderson Bridwell, played by Jerome Sinclair. They were both wooing the same woman, a schoolteacher played by Stella Langton.

  The early-afternoon sun beat down on us as we left the makeshift town behind us. We were now driving on a two-lane dirt road. It meandered for about a mile before disappearing between low, brown hills. After we passed between these hills, the town was completely hidden from view. Jonathan seemed to have an endless repertoire of interesting tidbits about the current state of the motion pictures industry. He talked nonstop as we crested a hill and saw three dozen or so people spread out in a small valley below us. As we descended, I saw the ubiquitous cameras, horses, etc.—everything necessary to film a Western motion picture. As we pulled up to the group, a tallish man walked over to the car.

  “Good afternoon, Jonathan. Are these the two gentlemen Gordon told us about?”

  “Yes. These are the reporters from the Herald Express. They’re here covering the picture.”

  As the three of us exited the car, Jonathan introduced us.

  “Derrick Steele and Daniel McAllister, this is Harry Simms, assistant to the director, Stuart Douglas. I’m sure you’ve heard of the latter.”

  I couldn’t speak for Daniel, but I had indeed heard of Stuart Douglas, even before meeting Gordon this morning. He was making quite a name for himself in the industry, mainly because of his young age and his string of successful pictures. He was often featured in the Examiner and the Herald Express. It was rumored he had a nasty temper and expected perfection from anyone working on his films, actors and technicians alike. He’d had numerous run-ins with major stars, one of whom I now knew was Gordon. I now recalled in one of the recent articles I had read that, before this picture deal was signed, the two had not even been on speaking terms. However, as my mother always said, take anything you read in the papers about Hollywood with a grain of salt. Also, he was on the list of potential suspects Gordon had created for me. Harry shook hands heartily with Daniel and then me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, gentlemen. We are just getting ready to film an important scene. Follow me. We have seats reserved where you can watch the action up close.”

  Jonathan bid us good-bye, saying he’d return in two hours to drive us back to our car. We followed Harry Simms to where the majority of the crew was grouped under a large stand of jacaranda trees. A dozen or so director’s chairs were arranged in two semicircles beneath the shade of the trees. Two of them were conspicuously empty. It was evident the chairs were positioned to watch the action unfold to the left of the rest of the crew.

  As we approached the group, I spotted Stuart Douglas off to one side. He was easily recognizable because he was famous for the multicolored, flowered shirts he wore. He was gesticulating and yelling at a skinny young man. As we drew nearer, we could hear his tirade. The kid looked scared to death, as if he was about to cry.

  “That’s not what I asked for, you idiot. If you can’t do this job, there are plenty of other wannabe actors who can. Now get out of my sight, and don’t come back till you bring me what I asked for!”

  Whatever it was had ended by the time we reached them. Stuart rejoined the group and took his seat in the Director’s chair. He didn’t glance at us nor make a formal acknowledgment of our arrival. We followed Harry to the two empty chairs.

  “Have a seat here, guys. The scene we are about to film involves Gordon, playing Marshall Duggan, and his deputy, Anderson Bridwell,
pursuing a gang of outlaws that just robbed the bank in Chilsum. The outlaws will appear first, at the far end of the bend to our left. They will ride past us along that hill, with Duggan and Bridwell hot on their trail. Shots are being fired, and two of the outlaws will fall from their horses. Deputy Bridwell will take a bullet in the arm, knocking him from his horse. Of course, a stunt man will be doing the actual fall. We can’t have Jerome getting hurt for real, now can we?”

  Was there a touch of irony in his voice at the mention of injury to Jerome?

  “I must rejoin Mr. Douglas before he has a nervous breakdown. But sit tight and watch the action unfold. Also, please be quiet when Mr. Douglas yells ‘Action.’ As you just saw, he has a terrible temper. Gordon will be with you as soon as the scene is a wrap. Be forewarned, it will most likely require more than one take.”

  “Thanks, Harry. We’re looking forward to seeing Gordon in action. We’ll be quiet as church mice. Promise.”

  Harry rejoined the group and took his seat beside Stuart. He spoke a few words to Stuart, who shot a disapproving look in our direction before turning to the man behind the camera. He grabbed a bright red megaphone and raised it to his lips.

  “Everyone, quiet on the set, please. We are filming Scene Thirty-two, Take Three.”

  Stuart looked around a final time to ensure everyone was in their proper places, then yelled, “Action!”

  A moment of silence followed his command, only to be shattered by loud yells and the sound of gunshots. This was accompanied by a thunder of hooves coming from far off in the distance, swelling as it drew nearer. The sound grew louder and a group of twelve horsemen came galloping furiously around the bend Harry Simms had indicated. The horsemen were raising a considerable cloud of dust. They took turns firing over their shoulders at as-yet-unseen pursuers. The dozen men looked like typical outlaws I had seen in the Westerns I’d watched at the Valentino. They all wore dark clothing, and their horses were either black or dark brown. As they thundered past the cameras and assorted crew, a lone rider came around the bend. It was Gordon. I chuckled to myself as he drew nearer and I saw his getup. He was riding a large palomino, which was tricked out in a black saddle trimmed with silver buttons, silver stirrups, and a black bridle, also with silver buttons. Gordon wore a white hat, a light blue cotton shirt with white buttons, and white chaps over blue denims. His deputy, Anderson Bridwell, was dressed similarly, only his chaps and hat were light brown. As soon as the whole passel of them was out of sight, the director yelled, “Cut.”

  The riders returned after several minutes, and Gordon dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to a young man. He went and conferred with the director for several minutes, then Stuart pointed us out to him. Gordon waved to us before turning back to Stuart. After several more minutes, Gordon joined us.

  “Derrick and Daniel, it’s great to see you. I hope you’ve been well taken care of. I’m so glad you could make it. Stuart wasn’t happy with the scene and wants to reshoot it. Can you wait till we get everything set up again and reshoot the scene?”

  “That’s fine, Gordon. We don’t mind.”

  “Thanks, guys. I’ll have Jonathan bring you some beers. Please let him know if you need anything else.”

  About five minutes after Gordon left, Jonathan arrived with a metal bucket containing a half dozen or so beers. It was another twenty minutes till Stuart was again yelling, “Action.”

  The same scene played again, with the outlaws charging past us, followed by Gordon and Jerome. After Stuart yelled, “Cut,” the riders returned and Gordon conferred with Stuart Douglas once more. Suddenly, Gordon was shouting and flailing his arms. He turned and walked over to us a second time.

  “That asshole still isn’t happy with the scene and wants to reshoot it again after a quick break. Why don’t we grab some sandwiches from the food table and eat them in my trailer?”

  “That sounds great, Gordon.”

  We got out of our chairs and fell in step beside Gordon.

  As if on cue, Jonathan pulled alongside us in his car. “Do you guys need a lift yet?”

  Gordon stopped and faced Jonathan. “Jonathan, Derrick and Daniel are going to stay till we finish the shoot. We’re going to grab a quick bite in my trailer while we wait for the scene to be set up again.”

  Daniel stepped up beside me. “Actually, Derrick, I don’t mean to appear rude, but I have an appointment I need to get to. You stay and watch the reshoot. I’ll see you when you get home. It was nice to see you again, Gordon.”

  “How are you going to get home, Daniel?”

  “I can take a cab, Derrick, no worries.”

  “I won’t hear of that, Daniel,” Gordon interjected. “Take the vehicle you came in. I’ll see that Derrick gets a ride home.”

  “Thanks, Gordon.”

  “You’re welcome. Derrick, hopefully this will be the last take of this scene.” Gordon left and headed back to talk to Stuart Douglas.

  “Bye, Daniel. I’ll see you at home.”

  Daniel had just taken his seat in the car when I saw Jerome Sinclair, Gordon’s nemesis, approaching.

  “Mr. Sinclair, may I speak to you for a moment?”

  He stopped and stared at me. “Who the hell are you?”

  It was hard not to take an instant dislike to the man.

  “No one you want to fuck with!”

  It was out of my mouth before the words formed in my brain. I could have kicked myself because I knew I had probably just killed any chance of Jerome cooperating with the investigation. Jerome took several menacing steps toward me and Daniel was suddenly between the two of us.

  Chapter Five

  “Let’s not get into a pissing contest, gentlemen. My name is Daniel McAllister, of Steele Investigations. This is my partner, Derrick Steele. We’ve been hired by Gordon Maxwell to investigate several threatening notes he’s received. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if you have a minute.”

  Daniel’s calm demeanor had the desired effect, and Jerome’s attitude softened. I also saw that he was sizing up Daniel as one would a nice steak at the market. My dislike of this man grew tenfold.

  “I have all the time in the world for you. But your friend can go straight to hell.”

  Daniel immediately put his arm around Jerome’s shoulders and walked him away from me. They went a good twenty feet, then stopped and faced each other. As they spoke, I could see the exchange grow more heated. Suddenly, Jerome threw a wild punch at Daniel, which he easily deflected. His own right hook sent the man to the ground. Daniel looked down at him for a moment before walking back to me. Before I could say anything, Gordon was once again at my side.

  “I see you met Jerome Sinclair. Isn’t he an asshole?”

  “He certainly is, Gordon. I say he is number one on our list of suspects.” Daniel nodded in agreement.

  “You’re still my hero, Daniel McAllister.”

  He smiled at me and got back in the car. “I’ll see you at home, Derrick!”

  I watched him ride away. When I turned back to Gordon, he was staring at me oddly.

  “Daniel decided to leave rather suddenly, didn’t he?”

  “That happens often in our line of business, Gordon.”

  Christ, that sounded lame, even to my own ears. What was bothering Daniel? Was his dislike of Gordon growing exponentially? He had only known him a few hours. There had to be another reason. Something was bugging Daniel. It probably had been for a while. But I was too wrapped up in my own shit to notice. I would need to spend some time with him when I got home later today.

  “Sure, Derrick. I understand. Let’s grab some sandwiches. I’m starving.”

  “Even though I had lunch I could eat again. Lead the way, Gordon.”

  I fell in step beside him and we headed to a large awning to the right of where the camera crew was stationed. Beneath it were two long tables laden with assorted breads, various types of meats and cheeses, condiments, pickles, watermelon and assorted desserts. A tin bucket he
ld ice and bottles of sarsaparilla.

  It was quickly apparent there was a pecking order at the lunch table; we went directly to the head of the line. We each grabbed a plate, made ham sandwiches, and added homemade pickles and watermelon. Gordon grabbed two bottles and handed me one.

  “Follow me.”

  He headed past the cameras, after which we climbed a low hill. Upon reaching the top, we paused, and I saw a dozen or so small, shiny trailers spread out at the bottom of the hill.

  “Those are for the cast and some of the crew, Derrick.”

  We started down the hill, and as we drew nearer I saw a gold star on each door with a name on it. We passed Jerome Sinclair’s and Shelly Langton’s, and then arrived at Gordon’s. He unlocked the door and I climbed the steps and followed him inside. After he closed the door behind me, we sat at a small kitchen table. I quickly noted he had all the amenities: plush seating, a fully stocked bar, and a gleaming kitchenette. Although it all appeared to be in miniature form, it was all clean and tidy.

  After we had eaten, Gordon took our plates and empty bottles and set them on the kitchen counter. He grabbed two more sarsaparillas from the fridge along with a bottle opener that was sitting on the counter.

  “What did you think of today’s shoot, Derrick?”

  “I enjoyed it very much. I’ve never seen a motion picture being filmed before. It was quite exciting. It’s amazing how many people are involved. However, I wouldn’t want to have to do take after take for each scene. That would drive me nuts.

  “Not to change the subject, Gordon, but have you had a chance to show your impromptu lover the photograph of the two of you?”

  “Is that little item still on your mind, Derrick?”

  It took me a moment to realize he was teasing me. “Well, I wouldn’t describe the cock in the picture as little. Would you?”

  My matter-of-fact statement caused Gordon to laugh out loud.

  He opened both bottles and when he passed me mine our hands touched briefly. It was like an electric current coursed through my body. Before I knew what was happening, I had set the bottle on the table and was standing up, holding Gordon in my arms. The scent of his sweat was thick in my nostrils. I could feel the muscles in his arms. Not only that, but I felt his cock thickening and pushing insistently against mine. He looked into my eyes; his were filled with a lust that was not going to be denied.