by Parnell Hall
The sandbag was the type used on movie sets, usually to anchor the base of light stands, a canvas bag which if laid out flat would be a long rectangle. That in turn had been sewn into four rounded rectangular pouches of sand. Sewn into the strip between the middle two pouches was a steel ring, in case you wanted to hang the sandbag from something.
Which is what had been done in this case. A rope was tied to the steel ring. It ran up to the ceiling and over a pipe there. The other end of the rope hung down behind the back wall of the shower.
“About ten feet,” Clark said, reading my mind. “On the floor, I mean. Back there. The ceiling’s about twenty feet high. So you’ve got twenty feet up, twenty feet down. About ten feet of slack on this side and ten feet back there. We can measure it later, but say sixty feet in all. Now, when your sandbag is hoisted to the ceiling”—Sergeant Clark pointed up to where the rope went over the pole—”the perpetrator is about sixty feet from there.”
Clark looked back at us. “Not to labor the obvious,” he said, “but this is not a booby trap in the conventional sense. That is, something that is rigged that the victim trips, springing the trap. Obviously, in this case the perpetrator held onto the end of the rope and released it at the proper moment.”
“So,” MacAullif said. “If we measure the rope, we can figure out where he must have stood.”
“Without even measuring, we could simply hoist it up again,” Clark said. “But we’d be guessing, because it must have gone over another pipe too.”
“How do you know?” I said.
“Take a look,” Clark said.
We went out of the bathroom and around to the back of the set where the rope hung down.
“See,” Clark said. “You could stand here, pull the rope, hoist the sandbag up to the ceiling. It would be out of sight. But see the rope? It would come straight down behind the back of the shower wall. Not in the shot, but right in plain sight. Surely someone would see it. Any distractions on the set not withstanding. And the killer’s not going to want to stand there, right next to the set, holding a rope. Too good a chance he’d be seen.”
“I wouldn’t count it out,” I said. “The guy doesn’t have to be bright.”
He waved it away. “It’s a moot point. Look at the floor. Where would you tie it off? There’s no place to tie the rope. And it must have been tied off, because it had to be rigged in advance. No one climbed up there and threw that rope over the pipe this afternoon while everyone was working on the set. It was rigged in advance and tied off. Then this afternoon it was untied, held till the proper moment, then released. If it couldn’t have been tied, it wasn’t here.”
“It’s a long rope,” I said. “After it’s pulled up, I mean. It could have been tied off anywhere.”
“Right,” Clark said. “But you take the rope, you walk to the back wall. Pull it tight and tie it off. Then you have a big diagonal of rope from ceiling to floor going across the whole warehouse. And if it’s there for a while, someone’s going to see it. No, the rope has to go over another pipe. Like over there,” he said, pointing to the ceiling near the back wall. “There’s a bunch of pipes up there, it’s got to be one of them. It went over there, around the pipe, and down the side wall. You could tie it off anywhere—to a pipe, to a valve, to a two-by-four. It doesn’t matter. That’s where the rope was, and that’s where the killer was. And that’s a big breakthrough for us.”
“Because someone might have seen him there?” I said.
Clark shook his head. “No one saw him there. Everyone was watching the set. That’s what the killer counted on and he was right. Very clever. But maybe a little too clever.”
“What do you mean?”
“We now know who the killer wasn’t. Anyone who was on that set. Jason Clairemont. Sidney Garfellow. Just to name the obvious. That’s not to say they couldn’t be involved, they couldn’t be an accomplice. But they were not the perpetrator of that particular act.
“And who was? Someone who wasn’t there.
“Which we can determine. We have a list here of everyone who was on the floor. One person on that list wasn’t watching the shower scene being filmed. If we can eliminate everyone who was, we’ll be left with who wasn’t.”
“Jesus Christ.”
Sergeant Clark said, “It’s not that bad. You’re a witness. I’m a witness. Everyone on this list is a witness. And everyone will have seen someone. And every little bit will help.”
“Hold on a minute,” I said.
“What?” Clark said.
“I have a problem with the whole premise.”
“Oh. What’s that?”
“I’m just trying to picture it in my head. The rope goes over the two pipes, the sandbag’s hoisted up, the killer stands there.”
“Yes. So?”
“So how does he know when to drop the rope? He’s behind the set, he can’t see a thing.”
“Yes, but he can hear. He listens for the cue. That’s the beauty of the little platform they built. He knows where Jason’s going to stand, so he doesn’t have to see him at all.”
“Yeah, but how does he know the cue? How does he know he’s there?”
“He watches the rehearsal,” Clark said. “And that’s our real clue. It was someone who was there when they rehearsed the scene, but wasn’t there when they shot it. Because that’s the way it had to be. The guy stood there and watched them rehearse. The dry run, as it were, with the shower off and the actress clothed. Then Sidney said, Let’s go for picture. And your killer slipped out of the crowd, around to the back of the set to the back wall, untied the rope, and waited for the cue.”
“Fine,” I said. “That makes sense. But tell me something. Do you have any idea who this killer was?”
“That’s a difficult question,” Clark said. “I have ideas, but I don’t think they’re founded on the type of evidence you’re talking about. Like personal observation. So I’d have to say no, I don’t.”
“Me neither,” MacAullif said. “If I had to name someone who was there for rehearsal who wasn’t there for the shoot, I couldn’t do it. Could you?”
“No way,” I said.
“Fine,” Clark said. “How about the other way around?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Who can you name who definitely was there when we shot?”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s easy. Jason Clairemont. The actress.”
“Yes, I thought you’d get them,” Clark said dryly.
“Ah, Sidney Garfellow. The DP.”
“Just a minute. Did you actually see them, or are you just assuming they were there?”
“I saw them,” I said. “The DP was sitting at the camera. Sidney was standing next to him. I both saw and heard him, because he said ‘action.’ The AD said ‘roll it’—the first AD, the woman. Murky Doyle said ‘speed.’ I heard that. I didn’t see him, but I know I heard it. Because it didn’t register on me until later that he’d rolled sound but nothing had happened. It hadn’t shorted out, I mean. Because that’s what we were worried about. And it occurred to me the man had called ‘speed’ and everything was all right. But it wasn’t.”
“Thank you for that succinct assessment,” Clark said. “If the other witnesses’ thought processes are as convoluted, we’ll be here all day. Go on. Anyone else?”
I frowned. Thought. “MacAullif,” I said.
“Excellent,” Clark said. “That narrows it down. I can see the case is almost solved.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said. “Tell me, do you intend to be as sarcastic with the general public?”
“Not at all,” Clark said. “I’m trying to get it out of my system now.”
I took a breath. Exhaled. “Papa,” I said.
Clark frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“The guy from the catering truck. We call him Papa. I remember he was there.”
“For the actual filming?”
“Had to be. He was looking at naked flesh. Also, some of the teamsters.�
��
“Some of the teamsters?”
“I don’t know them by name. But I recognized some of them there.”
“Would you know their names if you heard them?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, they’re on the list. If you don’t know their names, you may have to ID them.”
“Great,” I said. Identifying teamsters didn’t exactly strike me as the healthiest of occupations, even if it was merely to exonerate ’em.
“Anyone else,” Clark said.
“Well ...”
“Great,” he said. He turned to MacAullif. “Sergeant?”
MacAullif took a breath. “I would like to point out, he has already named the people who were obviously there.”
“Thanks a lot,” I said.
“Which is why my list is so short,” MacAullif went on, irritably.
“And just who is on it?” Clark said.
MacAullif took another breath. Exhaled. “You are.”
Sergeant Clark shook his head. “Thank you, Sergeant,” he said. He clapped his hands together. “Gentlemen. We would appear to have our work cut out for us.”
32.
OUR WORK MAY HAVE BEEN cut out for us, but it was Sergeant Clark who did it. The questioning, I mean. He handled it all by himself. First he told Sidney tough luck but filming anymore today wasn’t going to fly, and sent Jason Clairemont and the bodyguard home. He sent the actress home too, and commandeered the makeup room for questioning. He sent MacAullif to ride herd over the mob downstairs, and consigned Sidney and me to the herd. I can attest to the fact that neither of us was particularly thrilled.
The questioning took all afternoon and then some. The crew hung out in the rehearsal hall next to the catering truck, which Clark had wisely allowed to be driven onto the freight elevator and brought downstairs. We all stood around drinking coffee in dwindling numbers, as crew member after crew member was summoned and led away, never to return.
Sergeant Clark didn’t get to Sidney Garfellow till around six o’clock. He must have had a good deal to say to him, or vice versa, because MacAullif didn’t come back for the next one till six-fifteen.
It was eight-thirty when he came to get me. And when he did, I was the only one there. Dead last. That figured.
Only it turned out Sergeant Clark didn’t want to question me at all.
“Sit down, gentlemen,” Clark said when MacAullif ushered me into the room.
The makeup room, which was an impromptu affair thrown together with two-by-fours and Sheetrock, consisted of a makeup counter, some clothes racks, and half-a-dozen canvas folding director’s chairs. MacAullif and I sat down facing Clark, who was seated beside the makeup counter. On the counter in front of him was a stack of papers. He picked them up, put them in his lap.
“All right, gentlemen,” he said. “Let me give you what I’ve got.”
“Anything promising?” MacAullif said.
“Could be worse.”
“What’s all that?” I said, indicating the papers.
“Crew lists,” Clark said. “Well, not the entire crew. But lists of everyone who was on the set when the incident took place. I had the secretary type it up from Clarity’s list. So it’s not just the crew—it’s a complete list of everyone who was on the set.”
“What about the rest of them?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The rest of the papers.”
“Oh. They’re all crew lists. I had her xerox them. They’re all the same list. A hundred and some-odd copies.”
I frowned. “What’s the point?”
“One for each witness,” Clark said. “Hang on and let me tell you what I’ve got. Each person I questioned, I asked them who they saw on the set. At the time of the incident. Like I did with you. Whoever they saw, I checked off on the sheet.” He picked up the top paper. “And on the master sheet. So from these,” he said, pointing to the pile, “I know who saw who. And from this,” he said, holding up the top sheet, “I know everyone who was seen.”
“Is it helpful?” I said.
“Absolutely. Taken at face value, these eliminate over half the crew. Maybe three-quarters.”
“Can you take ’em at face value?” I asked.
“For the most part.” Clark shrugged. “People may be inaccurate, and they may lie. But in many instances there’s corroboration.”
Clark put down the top sheet, picked up another paper from the makeup counter. He held it up and turned it around. It was another list with several check marks after the names. “See. Here’s a cumulative summary. A bit messy, but still a help. Tells how many people saw each person. In almost every case, if someone was seen by one person, he was seen by at least two. There are only four names with only one check mark next to them. Two are teamsters who saw each other. Another is the caterer. The one you call Papa. No one saw him but you.”
“He was there.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Clark said. “It just so happens no one else saw him.”
“What about the other caterers?”
“No one saw them at all.”
“No, I mean, why didn’t they see him?”
“They weren’t there. At least, the woman wasn’t. She was working on the truck. The girl should have been working on the truck, but I gather she was trying to take a peek at the set. Anyway, she names half-a-dozen people she saw there, but not him.”
“Too bad.”
“She does name the gofer, Dan. That’s the other one with one vote. She’s it.”
“But he didn’t name her?”
“No, like I said, no one did. As I recall, he named a whole bunch of people, but not her.”
“Then they weren’t together?”
“Why should they be?”
“I don’t know. It just occurred to me there might be some attraction there.”
“That’s possible,” Clark said. “Which would explain why she would notice him. While he would be too preoccupied with the shower scene to notice her.”
“What about the people no one saw at all?” MacAullif said. “How many are there of them?”
“Entirely too many,” Clark said. “I haven’t actually counted, but let’s run them down.” Clark switched papers, picked up the master list. “Some of these fall into groups. Like the two caterers. We also have four teamsters.”
“That no one saw?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, you didn’t do a sheet on me. I may be able to help you there.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Clark said. “You wouldn’t know the names.”
“Right.”
“Then you couldn’t do it tonight. Because they’re gone. And your information may or may not be valuable.”
“Why?”
“How many did you see?”
“Two or three.”
Clark grimaced. “See? That’s where your information becomes somewhat less than useful. There’s no such thing as two and a half teamsters. A teamster was either there or he wasn’t. If you’re not sure, it doesn’t count.”
“I’m sure.”
“Oh, really? And how many faces were you sure you saw?” Before I could frame an answer, Clark went on. “Another reason it doesn’t matter is that there weren’t four teamsters, there were eight. Four were seen, four weren’t. So the ones you saw may just duplicate the ones I’ve already checked off.”
“I find that strange,” I said.
“What’s that?”
“That you haven’t got them all. I would think they would be in a group. Would alibi each other. But four of them don’t.”
“That’s not all that surprising,” Clark said. “Just between us, these are not the swiftest gentlemen in the world. I wouldn’t trust their powers of observation on the one hand, or their veracity on the other.”
“That’s a rather elitist attitude,” I said.
“Please,” Clark said. “I’m not trying to win an election, I’m trying to solve a crime. The fact is, I would ex
pect some of the gentlemen in question to misunderstand why I’m asking who they saw at the scene, and to deliberately refrain from naming their buddies as a matter of course. If this is an unfair assessment, I’m sorry. But the fact is, I don’t seriously consider the teamsters as suspects.”
Clark referred to his paper. “If we could move on. The next group are gofers. Two of them. Harold and Phil.”
“The names don’t help,” I said. “Who are they?”
“Phil is Jason Clairemont’s driver. Harold’s the other one. Let me see. Oh, at the construction site, he was the one who gave us the hard hats.”
“Right. And they didn’t see each other?”
“No. Or Dan either. Though, from what I gather, they didn’t tend to hang out as a group.”
“It’s odd they’d all be on the set though,” I said. “You’d think some of them would have work elsewhere, like in the office or running errands.”
“You’re forgetting what we were filming,” Clark said. “No matter what their jobs, somehow everyone on the crew managed to find time to take a look.”
“Right,” I said. “Who else?”
Clark went down the list. “Two grips. Three electricians. Two carpenters.” He took a breath, turned the page. “Three stunt men.”
“Stunt men? Wait a minute,” I said. “What stunt men?”
“From the ship. This morning. They were eating lunch when it started to rain, so they were brought back here with everybody else. They went to wardrobe, changed out of costume, and were wrapped.” I smiled to see that Clark was beginning to pick up movie terminology. Fortunately, he didn’t notice. “A couple of stunt men went home,” he said, “but most of them stuck around to see the shoot. Of those, three of them weren’t seen on the set.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Of those, was one of them ...”
“What?”
“Jason Clairemont’s stunt double.”
“Let me see,” Clark said. He consulted his notes. “What’s his name?”
“I don’t know.”
“No matter, I marked it. SD for stunt double. Nelson Kilmer is the one, and, no, he wasn’t seen.”