by Parnell Hall
Sergeant Clark took a breath. MacAullif and I had neglected to warn him about Sidney Garfellow’s celebrated calculated insensitivity. “At any rate,” Clark said, “you didn’t actually see him fall?”
“No,” Sidney said. “When I looked, he was gone.”
“But you were directly behind the camera. And to the right. There were other crew members who would have been behind you, is that right? And some of them presumably would have been on the left.”
“Yes, of course,” Sidney said. “The whole crew was behind me. Otherwise they’d have been in the shot.”
“So I’ll have to rely on an eyewitness account from someone else,” Sergeant Clark said. Sidney frowned, but before he could say anything, Sergeant Clark pressed on with, “Now, with regard to the catwalk—was this morning the first time you’d been up there?”
“Of course not. We don’t go into these things blind. I scouted it out first.”
“When was that?”
“I don’t know. Sometime the week before last.”
“Do you recall which day?”
“No, I don’t.” Sidney jerked his thumb at me. “He might. He was there.”
“I’ll ask him,” Clark said. “But I’m testing your recollection now.”
“Well, I don’t recall. It was someday the week before rehearsal. I think it was in the morning, but I could be wrong.”
“But whatever day that was that you scouted the location—have you been back there since? Before this morning, I mean.”
“No, of course not. What would be the point?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Clark said. “But the fact is, you weren’t?”
“No, of course not.”
“Who was present when you scouted the location?”
“God, I wouldn’t know. We scouted so many.” Sidney shrugged. “The usual suspects.”
“Suspects?”
“Just a bit of movie humor.”
“I’ve seen Casablanca,” Clark said dryly. “Could you identify these suspects for me?”
Sidney looked miffed at having his wit unappreciated. “I’ll try,” he said. “Jake Decker—that’s our production manager—I know he was there. And of course our director of photography—that’s Eric Stoltz. The first assistant director was there. And the gaffer. And me and him. Those I know for sure. The sound man might have been there, but I couldn’t swear to it. He scouted some locations, not others. Frankly, the guy’s a pain in the ass, we often try to leave him behind.”
“I see,” Clark said. “And on that occasion, did you notice anything significant? Anything that would have indicated the railing wasn’t safe?”
“Of course not,” Sidney said. “If I had, I wouldn’t have filmed there.”
“I understand,” Clark said. “Very well. Do you have anything else to tell me about this incident? Aside from what we’ve covered, is there anything else that I should know?”
“What’s to know? The guy fell. It’s too damn bad, but nothing’s gonna bring him back. And I got a movie to make. I got a movie crew standing around with their thumb up their ass waiting for you to tell me I can make it. Now maybe I’m insured for this and maybe I’m not, but that’s not the point. The point is, I got actors locked up for this low-budget feature, squeezing their appearances in between their regular gigs. If I run over and lose ’em, I got no film. If I seem callous and hardhearted about this whole thing, you’re damned right I am. This is my livelihood and my career. So do what you gotta do, but please do it fast. Am I done?”
“For the time being,” Clark said. “Perkins, take him back to the others and bring me the sound man.”
Perkins and Sidney Garfellow exited.
Clark said, “Observations?”
“He didn’t mention the boom man getting a shock,” MacAullif said.
“That’s right, he didn’t,” Clark said. “And you would think he would. Unless he figures the two events are trivial and unrelated. Even so, you’d think he’d mention it.”
“You didn’t mention it either,” I said. “Why didn’t you ask him?”
“I’m here to gather information, not give it out. If I ask him for the information, I deprive him of the opportunity of volunteering it. Without asking, I learn the man never intended to bring it up.”
“Maybe he just didn’t think of it,” I said.
Clark shrugged. “Either way, the fact is, he didn’t. Now you two, you’re professionals, you immediately make the connection. If Sidney Garfellow doesn’t, I’m not going to tell him, because he’d tell everyone else. And I don’t want that, because I want to see if anyone else mentions it. And if there’s anything to this, odds are someone will.”
I smiled.
“What’s so funny?” Clark said.
“Didn’t you just ask for the sound man?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Then I’d say you’ve got a pretty safe bet.”
18.
“IT’S THE SECOND TIME,” Murky said.
“Second time?” Sergeant Clark said.
“That’s right,” Murky said. “Didn’t they tell you? About the electrocution?”
“Electrocution?”
Murky waved his hands. “Not electrocution. It didn’t work. Attempted electrocution. Someone crossed the wires in my Nagra, and he got zapped.”
“That’s Charles Masterson?” Sergeant Clark said.
“Charlie. Yeah. The boom man.”
“You knew his name?”
“Of course I knew his name. He was my boom man.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Clark said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because no one else did. The production manager had his name—that figures, he hired him—but to the rest of the crew he was the boom man.”
“Not surprising,” Murky said. “Sound gets no respect. You think they wouldn’t know the cameraman?”
Clark ignored the question. “So this Charles Masterson—the boom man—in your opinion, someone tried to kill him before?”
“Exactly,” Murky said. “They screwed with my Nagra. They opened it up and crossed the wires. When I switched it on he got a shock.”
“But it wasn’t serious?”
“He screamed. He dropped the boom.”
“But he wasn’t hurt?”
“Just luck. If he’d been touching metal, I bet he would have been fried.”
“When did this happen?”
“Monday. First day of shooting. First shot with sound. Of course, it would have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because the Nagra was sabotaged. Someone crossed the wires. So the first time I used it, this would happen.”
“And where did this happen?”
“On the set, of course. The stage set. At the studio.”
“And this was first thing in the morning?”
“No.”
“No? I thought you said this was the very first shot.”
“No. The first shot with sound. They shot some other stuff first. Street shots. That should have had sound, but they chose to go without it. Sound wasn’t called till the afternoon.”
“So this happened in the afternoon?”
“No. In the morning. ’Cause it rained, so they went inside. Then called up all pissed off, wondering why I wasn’t there.”
“I see,” Clark said. “So you came to the studio, set up your equipment, and the first time you used it your boom man got a shock.”
“Exactly,” Murky said. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“And it wasn’t because the equipment got wet in the rain?”
“What rain?” Murky said. “Didn’t you hear me? Sound wasn’t out in the rain. They didn’t call us. And rain or no rain, the fact is someone crossed the wires.”
Clark nodded. “Let me be sure I understand this,” he said. “It’s your opinion that someone was trying to kill your boom man, Charles Masterson?”
“Trying?” Murky said. “Hell, they did.”
“I understand,” Clark said. “What I mean is, this business with the tape recorder was the first attempt. When that failed, they tried again.”
“Exactly,” Murky said. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“And who do you think did this?”
Murky spread his arms. “I have no idea. I can’t imagine why anyone would do such a thing.”
“Me either,” Clark said. “That’s the problem. Apparently, no one knew the man. No one even knew his name. Why would anyone want to kill him?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Well, you’re the only one who knew him at all.”
Murky blinked, then looked up at Sergeant Clark. “Are you implying that I killed him?”
“I’m just saying that you’re the only one who seemed to know him. And I can’t think of a reason why anyone would have wanted to kill him. Can you?”
“No.”
“There you are,” Clark said. “So, you come in here and tell me it’s the second time, I’m all ears. I will certainly take your story into account. But you see the difficulty?”
Murky Doyle looked at Sergeant Clark. He frowned, cocked his head. “Hey, wait a minute. Are you telling me, if I can’t explain why someone wanted to kill him there’s no case? Who’s the cop here? I don’t have to explain what happened. I’m the sound man, for Christ’s sake.”
“Of course, you are,” Sergeant Clark said. “I’m sorry I got the wrong impression. From the way you came in here telling me this was the second attempt on Mr. Masterson’s life, I thought you knew something. Other than what you observed. You are merely telling me what you observed, aren’t you? I mean, you have no other knowledge that this was a murder attempt, this business with your recorder? You conclude it was a murder attempt from the fact that it happened. But the fact that it happened is really all you know. Isn’t it?”
Murky Doyle blinked. Once. Twice. “Could you repeat the question?”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sergeant Clark said. “All I’m asking is, do you have any information other than what you’ve already given me?”
It was almost comical, the look on Murky Doyle’s face. He obviously had nothing to add, but didn’t want to admit it. After a long pause he said, “No.”
“Fine,” Sergeant Clark said. “Perkins, show Mr. Doyle out. Then let’s have the director in again.”
Perkins exited with Murky and was back minutes later, ushering in a very exasperated Sidney Garfellow.
At the first questioning, Sidney had been merely annoyed. Now he was fit to be tied.
“Again?” he said. “I told you all I knew the first time. Now you’re having me again?”
“You neglected to mention there had been a previous attempt on the life of this boom man.”
I had a feeling Sidney Garfellow was about to treat us to another example of unbridled insensitivity, and he did not disappoint.
“What, are you nuts?” Sidney said. “He’s a boom man. He’s not important. Who the hell would want to kill him?”
“According to Vincent Doyle—”
“Who?”
“Your sound man.”
“Murky? Good god, are you listening to him?”
“He claims his equipment was sabotaged in a previous attempt on Mr. Masterson’s life.”
“Sure he does.”
“Do you deny the incident happened?”
“No. The incident happened. It wasn’t serious. I don’t think it held us up for more than ten minutes.”
“How nice for you,” Clark said dryly. “The point is, it happened.”
“Yeah, it happened. I’m not surprised. Hell, you talked to him. You can’t imagine him making a mistake?”
“He says the wires were deliberately crossed.”
“Sure. You think he’s gonna say it’s his fault?” Sidney smiled. “Look, Sergeant. In a perfect world my sound man wouldn’t be Murky Doyle. I’ve worked with him before, I know he’s not the best. But this is an independent low-budget production. I got big concessions from the unions. But I’m comin’ to ’em hat in hand, so I don’t get to pick and choose. See what I mean? They stick me with a sound man, I’m stuck with him. I went to the wall for the DP, got who I wanted, but that used up my bargaining chips. So I’m workin’ with the sound man from hell. All right, it’s a tradeoff. I’d rather have picture than sound. You can fix sound in the mix. You can’t fix picture.”
Whether Sergeant Clark followed all that or not, it wasn’t what he wanted. “You claim this business with the tape recorder is unrelated and of no importance?”
“Of course. Isn’t that obvious?”
“No, it isn’t. The man was killed.”
“It was an accident. The guy fell.”
Sergeant Clark shook his head. “No accident. The rail was sawed through.”
“Then it was a prank.”
“Is that your idea of a prank?”
“It could be someone’s.”
“Possibly,” Clark said. “But it turns out there was this previous incident.”
“Bullshit,” Sidney said. “Give me a break. If someone wanted to kill the boom man, how the hell would they know he was gonna lean on that rail?”
Sergeant Clark held up one finger. “Now we’re coming to it,” he said. “Exactly. That’s just the point. Working before, my premise was that someone weakened the rail so someone fell. Now it’s suggested to me that the killer was actually after this particular individual. Based on this previous incident.” As Sidney Garfellow was about to interrupt, Sergeant Clark spread his hand, palm out. “I know, I know,” he said. “You refuse to credit that. Let’s not go around again. The point is, once it’s brought up it must be dealt with. What I want to consider now is the question of, is there any way the killer could know it would be the boom man who would stand precisely there?”
“Absolutely not,” Sidney said. “That’s why the whole thing’s ridiculous. Hell, we weren’t even going to shoot that shot.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“I mean, not then. It was scheduled for later in the day.”
“Why’d you shoot it then?”
“The schedule got screwed up. The shot we were supposed to shoot, the actor wasn’t there.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“He wasn’t called. Well, he was called, but for later on. It was a fuck-up, basically. He should have been here but he wasn’t.”
“Who gave him the later call?”
“I suppose indirectly I did.”
“Indirectly?”
“I can’t be responsible for all these things. I’m the producer and the director. People are shooting questions at me all day long. Every little thing. So what happens is, I’ll have an assistant director say to me, ‘Jason isn’t in the street shots so I’ll give him an eleven o’clock call at the construction site, all right?’ And if I’m working out camera angles with the DP at the time, maybe I don’t correct that ’cause I got fifty people runnin’ around here, and I gotta assume some of ’em know their job.” Sidney smiled, kicked shit. “On the other hand, I’m in charge, so if something goes wrong it’s my fault.”
“Is that what happened?” Sergeant Clark said. “Did an assistant director give this actor an eleven-o’clock call?”
“I don’t recall. I was using that as an example.”
“I don’t want an example,” Sergeant Clark said. “At the moment, it’s rather important that you recall.”
Sidney frowned, obviously displeased. “It’s hard to remember, since it wasn’t important—and I can’t see that it’s all that important now—but to the best of my recollection the conversation took place between the first assistant director and me. Though you might check with the script supervisor too.”
“I’ll do that,” Clark said. “The point is, if this actor had had an earlier call, you would have shot a different shot. Is that right?”
“Absolutely. We changed the shot because he wasn’t there.”
�
��This actor—I believe you said Jason?”
“Yes. Jason Clairemont.” When Sergeant Clark didn’t fall over backwards, Sidney added, “He’s the star of the show. Hot young actor. Starred in To Shoot the Tiger. That’s why we’re apt to make concessions to him, give him a later call. Another actor, we get him here eight in the morning, who gives a shit?”
“Who, indeed,” Sergeant Clark said dryly. “If this actor had been there, what scene would you have shot.”
“I don’t know the number. You’d have to check with Clarity.”
“The scene was on a schedule?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And everyone knew that schedule? The people on the crew, I mean?”
“Of course. They have to know what to set up for.”
“Would that be a printed schedule?”
“Sure. There’s a daily shooting schedule. I just don’t happen to have it with me.”
“Who would?”
“Everybody. They’re handed out to the crew.”
“When?”
“What?”
“When are they handed out?”
“Oh. The day before. In the afternoon. When we know pretty much what we’ll finish today, we lock in the schedule for tomorrow. That gets typed up and run off, and before we wrap, one of the gofers hands it out to the crew.”
“Wrap?”
“Finish for the day. In the industry it’s called a wrap.”
“I see. And this schedule would list the first shot you were going to shoot today?”
“Yes. Of course. But actually, the first shot was a street scene on the East Side.”
“It would also list your first shot up there?”
“Of course.”
“What was that shot?”
“Like I say, you’d have to check with Clarity. That’s the script supervisor. She’d have the number.”
“Yes, I will. But generally speaking, do you know what that shot was?”
“Yes, of course. We were shooting the fight scene between Rick and Wickem. That’s Jason Clairemont, our star, fighting one of the bad guys.”
“What happens in the scene?”
“They fight. Jason breaks away, runs. The other guy catches him, pins him. They have a few lines of dialogue—in fact, that was the first shot.”