“Going somewhere?” Eric said, and then looked around the room. “Hey, this looks just like...”
“We know,” the three of us said, almost in unison.
Eric looked again at Stanley. “Come on,” he said. “You didn’t really think you could get away with this, did you?”
Stanley didn’t know what to say and just sat there on my leather sofa, crying again.
I walked over to the sofa and pulled Stanley up and off of it. “You’re not going to get my leather sofa all wet, either,” I told him.
“So, I take it you want to press charges,” Eric said.
“You take it correctly,” I told him. “Get this clown out of my sight. We’re all going to be plenty busy enough arranging to have all this stuff returned to our office and you can bet he’s going to get a bill for the cost.” I turned to Dad and Gloria. “We’ll have to hire a moving company for most of this stuff, but I do have a van downstairs and I think we should take the essentials that we’ll need right away, like my laptop, the phones and answering machine, the…”
“The toilet paper,” Dad said, laughing.
“And whatever else will fit in the van,” Gloria added. “We might as well get started.”
“Wait a second,” I said, pulling out my cell phone and flipping it open.
“What are you doing now?” Dad said.
“I have to take some pictures of this setup,” I said. “No one would believe us otherwise.”
Dad and Gloria stood back out of the way while I snapped a dozen or so pictures of our office as seen through the eyes of one goofy son-of-a-bitch. This was one for the books, all right. And I was sure it would also be fodder for many a conversation over drinks.
Only in Hollywood, I thought.
84 - Stand-In For Murder
The seasoned detective knew better than to go into that dark alley, yet something drew him in like a moth to a flame. His .38 became an extension of his right hand as he slowly inched his way forward down the dark passage. A muffled noise to his left made his quickly turn his head in that direction. The next sound wasn’t quite so muffled. The bullet tore into his skull just above his left ear and exited out the other side, leaving a gaping hole in the right side of his head.
“What would you have done, Mr. Cooper?” Thurman said.
“I’d never have gone in that alley in the first place,” I said.
“Really?” Thurman said. “How’d you like to show us how it should have been done?”
I waved him off. “I’m no actor,” I said. “You only hired me as a technical consultant for this movie.”
“Well,” Thurman said, “at least give me the benefit of your experience for the next take.”
The director picked up his bullhorn and yelled, “Lunch, thirty minutes.” He turned to the makeup man, Ted Baker, and then pointed to the actor lying in the back lot alley. “Take Stu to makeup, clean him up and we’ll try it again after lunch.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Thurman,” Baker said. He bent down and grabbed the actor by his arm, helped him to his feet and draped a white towel around his neck, trying not to drip any of the fake blood on the rest of his costume.
I looked at Thurman and spread my hands. “I’m not really sure why you hired me in the first place, Mr. Thurman,” I said. “Your movie and, as far as that goes, your actors seem to be caricatures of real life. I mean, so far I’ve given you my professional opinion on six different scenes and yet you’re still portraying my profession inaccurately. I feel like I’m taking your money.”
“It’s not my money,” Thurman said. “The studio can afford it.”
“But wouldn’t they at least like to get their money’s worth out of me?” I said. “Or are they going to be satisfied just plodding down that same old worn out path other directors have taken for decades, with little or no realism?”
“I see your point, Mr. Cooper,” Thurman said, “but realism doesn’t sell. Audiences want to see action and shooting and blood and…”
“Well then,” I said, “my job here is done. You don’t need me hanging around, running up a bill and not earning my check. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just head on back to the real world and tackle some real cases with real people.”
“Please, Mr. Cooper,” Thurman said. “Stay just through the end of the week and if you still feel the same way, I’ll release you from your obligation.”
I thought about it for a moment. Business in the real world was a bit slow and this was, indeed, easy money, if not earned. Dad and Gloria could handle whatever came our way for another three days. I turned to Thurman. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll stick it out until Friday, but then that’s it. I do have another job outside of show business that needs my attention.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” Thurman said and turned and walked toward his trailer.
I had brought a bag lunch with me this morning but that was hours ago and I’d already eaten it a little at a time throughout the morning. Now it was half past noon and my stomach was grumbling again. I walked over to the catering wagon that had been parked just inside the perimeter of the movie studio back lot. I spotted a ham and cheese sandwich with my name on it and plunked down four dollars. I found another two dollars worth of change in my pockets and gave it up for a bottle of soda. Hell, at these prices I’d have to win an Oscar just to be able to afford lunch around here on a daily basis.
I took my sandwich and soda over to the bar on the corner. Well, for all practical purposes, and as far as this movie was concerned, it was a bar from outward appearances. Once I’d stepped inside the bar all I found was a painted backdrop of a bar, stools, lighting fixtures and customers. As soon as I turned around I could see that the bar was actually just a façade held up by two-by-fours nailed to the floor, out of camera range. I found it ironic that the movie sets on this back lot were just as shallow and superficial as the people who made these movies. I decided that I’d be glad when my three day obligation was finished and I could return to the real world.
There were no chairs inside this phony movie bar, but I found a keg of nails and sat on that to finish my sandwich and soda. I was out of sight of whoever might still want to take shots of the exterior of the bar and I made sure I was quiet as well. I stuffed the last bit of my sandwich in my mouth and had tipped my soda bottle up to my lips when I heard two unfamiliar voices chattering just on the other side of this propped up wall. I set my soda bottle down and just listened. The first voice sounded angry.
“I’m not going to do it,” the angry voice said. “If you want it done, you find someone else. I’m not taking the fall for you or anyone else, you got that?”
“Wait a minute, Stu,” the second voice said. “We can work this out. Just listen for a minute, will you?”
Stu was having none of it. “Forget it,” he said. “Do it yourself if you want it done right.” There was a pause and then, “Don’t worry,” Stu said. “I won’t tell anyone.”
There was another short pause and I heard some sort of movement. The second voice said, “I know you won’t, Stu.”
Then I heard a muffled report like someone spitting really loud, followed by a dull thud and then footsteps fading in the distance. I quietly stepped around the bar building façade and saw a man lying on his back on the back lot street, one neat bullet hole placed squarely between his eyes, which were frozen wide open. I pulled my own .38 and scanned the immediate area. Whoever that second voice belonged to was long gone, leaving me there with this mess lying at my feet.
I ran partway down the street, looking for anyone else who might have seen something. I was alone on this stretch of street. Apparently the catering wagon had pulled away before the two men had gotten to this spot on the back lot. By the time I got back to where the body lay, the movie crew was just returning from lunch.
Roger Thurman’s voice bellowed, “For Christ sake, Stu,” he said. “Get up off the street. We just got you cleaned up.” Stu didn’t move. Thurman tapped Stu’s foot with his. “Come
on, Stu. I get it, you’re a method actor, you’re in character and you’re supposed to be dead. But if you don’t get up and get ready for this next shot, you’re fired.”
I walked up to Roger Thurman. “He’s not acting,” I said.
“What are you talking about, Mr. Cooper?” Thurman said.
“He’s not acting,” I repeated. “He’s dead. That’s a real bullet hole in his head and that’s a real pool of his blood under his head. How’s that for realism?”
Thurman bent over the prone actor and took a closer look at the bullet hole and then jumped back. “Jesus Christ on a pogo stick,” he yelled. “What the hell is this?”
“I was eating my sandwich behind that wall,” I said, point to the bar façade. “I heard Stu talking with another man. I couldn’t see either of them from where I was sitting. They were arguing and then I heard a muffled shot. By the time I came out from behind the wall, the second man had gone and Stu was lying right where he is now, dead.”
I pulled out my cell phone and flipped it open. I began to dial Lieutenant Anderson’s number when Thurman’s hand closed my phone. He kept his hand on top of it.
“Cooper,” Thurman said. “I can’t afford this kind of publicity. It could kill this whole picture and we already have seven weeks of shooting in the can. An investigation would shut the picture down and the studio would be out several million dollars.”
I just stared incredulously at Thurman. “It’s always about money and the bottom line, isn’t it?” I said. “You know you can’t keep a lid on this, for crying out loud. It’s murder. It doesn’t get any more serious than this and if I don’t let the authorities know what I know, they could haul me in as an accessory after the fact.”
Thurman sighed heavily. “All right,” he said, “but let me call it in. You have to give me a chance to let our publicity department at least try to put a positive spin on this so we don’t look so bad. Just give me thirty minutes and I’ll take care of everything. Thirty minutes, that’s all I’m asking, Copper.”
I hesitated briefly and then nodded. “I’ll give you your thirty minutes,” I said, “but if the cops aren’t here in forty minutes, I’m blowing the lid off this thing, understand?”
Thurman stuck his hand out but I didn’t offer mine. Thurman looked down at my dangling hand and then up at me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “They’ll be here. My assistant will take you to the front gate to wait for them.” He snapped his finger and a kid with a clipboard appeared out of nowhere. “Eddie,” Thurman said, “take Mr. Cooper to the front gate, will you?”
“Right away, Mr. Thurman,” Eddie said, leading me away from the murder scene and out to the front gate.
It didn’t even take thirty minutes for a black and white cruiser to show up at the front gate. I didn’t recognize the officer behind the wheel, nor the one riding with him. The guard opened the gate and let the patrol car enter. It stopped just inside the gate and the two cops got out.
“I got a call that someone here wanted to see me,” the driver said. “What’s the trouble here?”
“That’s the message you got?” I said. “Who called you?”
“I don’t know,” the cop said. “The dispatcher only said that it was someone from the studio and that you were waiting for me. Care to fill me in?”
“This way,” I said. “There’s been a murder on the movie set.”
The cop stopped in his tracks. “A murder?” he said. “Who murdered who?”
“I have no idea who the murderer is,” I explained, “but the victim is some actor named Stu. Someone shot him in the forehead right over here.” I gestured toward the movie set.
When we approached the body was still lying right where I’d last seen it. The movie crew was in position and the director was sitting in his canvas-back chair. When I walked into the scene with the two cops, Thurman yelled, “Cut,” and got up out of his chair in a huff. He looked at me, obviously annoyed.
“Cooper,” Thurman said, “we’re trying to make a movie here and you just ruined a shot. What these police doing here?”
I ignored Thurman and pointed at the body lying in the street. “There it is,” I said. “The victim.”
The cop stepped over to the body and looked down into its eyes. He jumped back, holding his hand over his heart when the man on the ground blinked and shifted his gaze to the cop’s eyes. The man sat up, looked at the cops and then at Thurman. “Did you get the shot, Mr. Thurman?” the man said, standing up and brushing himself off.
Thurman shook his head. “Sorry, Stu,” he said. “We’ll need another take. These gentlemen stepped into the shot.”
The cop looked at me. “I thought you said there’d been a murder here,” the cop said
I looked as surprised as anyone could and spread my hands. “I heard the suppressed shot,” I said. “I came out here and found the body with a bullet hole in his head.”
Thurman pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and rubbed it across the actor’s forehead, showing the cop the resultant red smear. “Is this what you’re talking about, Cooper,” Thurman said. He glanced and the cop and rolled his eyes.
The cop turned to me and stared for a moment without saying a word.
I shook my head. “Something’s not right here, officer,” I said.
“And I think I know what, or should I say who it is,” the cop replied. He glanced at the officer who had accompanied him here and tossed his head toward the front gate. The two policemen walked away without further comment. They got back in their cruiser and backed out of the gate and drove away.
Thurman ignored me and took his seat again and yelled, “Places everyone. This is a take.”
I was beginning to doubt myself at this point. I know what I heard, but when you got right down to it, I didn’t actually see anything. Come to think of it, I never really knelt down and took a close look at the victim. For all I know it could have been two actors rehearsing a part. On the other hand, I’d been around enough dead bodies to know one when I saw it, didn’t I?”
Before the cameras began to roll for the next scene, Thurman crooked a finger in my direction. I walked over to where he was sitting and bent over. “You know, Cooper,” Thurman said, “I think you’re right. This studio is wasting money on a technical advisor. You don’t have to finish out your three day obligation. You can go now, and we’ll still pay you for the full time we agreed on. Thanks for your help. I think you know the way out.”
For the first time today I was at a loss for words and just turned and walked away. The movie business was really too strange for me and I was anxious to get back to reality and relative sanity and I knew just where to find that—my office.
Dad and Gloria were there when I got back. Dad was on the phone and Gloria was entering old case files into our database. Neither of them looked up at me when I walked in. Gloria finished the file she was on but Dad was still on the phone. Gloria got up from behind her desk, stretched her arms and flexed her legs and then came over to give me a hug.
“That’s all I can do for one day,” she said. “If I sit in one position for too long, my leg falls asleep. I’m just going to do ten or twelve records a day. They’re not going anywhere. I’ll eventually get them all entered.”
Just then Dad hung up the phone and looked my way. “How’d it go at the movie studio?” he said. “I thought you were supposed to be there through the end of this week.”
“Funny you should ask,” I said, and told them both about the bizarre experience I’d recently had. “You know,” I said, “when it first happened, the director was more worried about losing the studio’s investment than he was about the dead actor. Then after the two cops showed up, his demeanor changed and suddenly he didn’t have a care in the world, aside from having his last shot ruined. Something’s not right here, I can feel it.”
Gloria laid her hand on my forearm. “But you said yourself that the guy lying in the street got up and was just fine.”
“That’s just it,�
� I said. “The guy, some relatively unknown actor named Stu, acted surprised as well. But you know, come to think of it, I never really got a good look at him before all this happened, so I couldn’t even swear that the first Stu and the second Stu weren’t the same guy. I just never looked that close.”
“Maybe you were just stressed out,” Gloria said, “and you thought you heard a real gunshot.”
I shook my head. “I just don’t know anymore,” I said.
“But what’s in it for you if you pursue this thing?” Dad said. “You have nothing to gain and future work with the studios to lose if you do.”
“I know,” I said. “I thought about all that on the drive back here, but it’s one of those things that’ll probably bug me to no end unless I can get some closure on it.”
“Closure’s overrated,” Dad said. “I thought I needed closure with some of those bullies who tormented me back in high school. And you know, after fifty years, it just doesn’t matter anymore. Let it go, son, or it’ll drive you nuts.”
“Your dad has a point,” Gloria said.
“I suppose,” I said. “But you know, it’s like that old saying, ‘you can’t find peace until you find all the pieces.’” I turned to Dad. “Who was that on the phone when I came in?”
“Ah,” Dad said, “I think we have ourselves another client. He’d coming up here in a few minutes.”
“What does he want from us?” I said.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “He was kind of vague. He said he’d rather discuss it in person.”
I held my hand over my stomach and let out a low, soft moan.
“What’s with you?” Gloria said.
I waved her off. “Just a gut bomb from that catering wagon food,” I said. “It’ll pass.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of” Gloria said. “And I think I know how it’ll pass. Maybe you’d better wait out in the hall until it does. We have a potential client coming in shortly and you know what they say about first impressions.”
The Complete Cooper Collection (All 97 Stories) Page 240