by Parnell Hall
But he was exploring them. And he did watch those documentaries over the weekend. After the sandbag fell. And it is my contention that if he really thought the girl was Dan’s accomplice, was giving him an alibi back then, he would have recognized her sister in the film.
Is that a stretch? I don’t think so. True, neither Sidney Garfellow nor Murky Doyle had noticed the family resemblance, and they’d actually met the girl. But it was years ago they’d shot the documentary, and why should they remember one particular prostitute?
But Sergeant Clark is a trained cop. I think he would have seen the resemblance if he’d been looking for it. And he didn’t see it. Had no idea till Alice pointed it out.
Of course, after she did, everything fell into place. Sergeant Clark was able to investigate, identify the girl, find out who she was, where she came from, and the fact she was dead.
In my opinion, it was only then, knowing she had a sister on the picture who turned out to be the only one who had alibied Dan, that Clark linked those two together and sewed the thing up.
But that’s a quibble. I have to admit Sergeant Clark was on the right track with the documentaries. And on the right track with Dan, and the whole bit.
In hindsight, a lot of things pointed to Dan. I mean, hell, that first day in the warehouse when we were all groping around in the dark, he was the one who switched on the lights. Easy enough—he’d done it the day before. The day he’d killed the bum. Killed him and stuck the body in the freight elevator and sent it upstairs, a nice little surprise to pop out at Sidney Garfellow and crew when they came to inspect the building the next day.
Yeah, it all fit pretty well. Even Richard had to agree. He called me after the dinner at Lutece to tell me Sergeant Clark was an insufferable man, but brilliant. Which coming from Richard was high praise. So, hell, maybe they’ll wind up golf buddies after all—stranger things have happened.
As to the movie, yeah, we finished it. On schedule and under budget. Which was a bit of a miracle, considering the problems we had. A miracle of the Jake Decker kind. You wouldn’t believe how that man rode the crew.
I’d like to tell you things went a lot smoother from that point on. After me directing my little film with Sidney Garfellow and Jason Clairemont.
I’d like to tell you that, but I can’t.
If there’s one thing history teaches us, it’s that we learn nothing from it.
Sidney Garfellow and Jason Clairemont did not mend their ways. You think they shot my script? Guess again. Jason Clairemont rewrote the whole fucking thing.
The result was exactly what you’d expect—a low-budget B movie. No better or worse than the rest of the mindless garbage being churned out. The picture was lucky to get a theatrical release. It opened to disastrous reviews and disappeared inside of three weeks. It had a brief run on cable TV, then came out on video cassette.
You can rent it.
People still do, or so I gather from the residual check I get every six months from the Writers Guild.
No, it isn’t much.
As to the usual suspects:
Sidney Garfellow went back to documentaries, which are his strength, if one can call it that. If he does well enough, someday perhaps he’ll get another feature.
As to Jason Clairemont, he went on to bigger and better things. Being in the movie hurt him not one whit. As I said, even with bad material, he always came off well. Many of the negative reviews even said as much. No, no need to cry for Jason Clairemont. His star is definitely on the rise.
And, as for me, I’m back chasing ambulances again. I’d hoped my screen credit would be my passport into the world of motion pictures, but believe it or not, producers are not lining up to hire the writer of Hands of Havoc, Flesh of Fire.
No kidding.
I knew that the first day of rehearsal.
But that’s the way it is with the movies. Even knowing it’s doomed, you hang in there. You carry on. You chase the dream.
And what the hell—I got a movie produced. I know screenwriters much more successful than I, who’ve never had a movie produced.
Well, I have, and I can prove it too.
I own the video cassette.
I can watch it on my TV.
And I do.
Anytime I want.
Turn it on and watch the scenes and recall the whole thing.
The construction site.
The shower scene.
Sergeant MacAullif’s acting debut.
With fast forward and reverse I can skip around, pick and choose the scenes I want to see.
And sometimes…
I must confess.
Sometimes I’ll rewind it all the way.
To the top.
To the credits.
To my credit.
SCREENPLAY BY STANLEY HASTINGS.
Yeah.
In a way.
But what the hell.
And I chuckle to myself. Softly. Ironically. With just a tinge of regret.
So what if I’m a private detective again?
I had my fifteen minutes of fame.
I wrote a Jason Clairemont movie.
Books by Parnell Hall
Stanley Hastings private eye mysteries
Detective
Murder
Favor
Strangler
Client
Juror
Shot
Actor
Blackmail
Movie
Trial
Scam
Suspense
Cozy
Manslaughter
Hitman
Caper
Puzzle Lady crossword puzzle mysteries
A Clue For The Puzzle Lady
Last Puzzle & Testament
Puzzled To Death
A Puzzle In A Pear Tree
With This Puzzle I Thee Kill
And A Puzzle To Die On
Stalking The Puzzle Lady
You Have The Right To Remain Puzzled
The Sudoku Puzzle Murders
Dead Man’s Puzzle
The Puzzle Lady vs. The Sudoku Lady
Steve Winslow courtroom dramas
The Baxter Trust
Then Anonymous Client
The Underground Man
The Naked Typist
The Wrong Gun
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Other Books by Parnell Hall