Lights! Camera! Puzzles!

by Parnell Hall

  64 Comic Lange

  65 Sign of decomposition

  66 Pen name of Charles Lamb

  67 Has in mind

  68 Puts the kibosh on

  69 Keister

  Down

  1 Rob of "The West Wing"

  2 "Bearded" bloom

  3 Variety show lineup

  4 Taj __

  5 Sausage cover

  6 Swelled heads

  7 Word of prohibition

  8 Bagel choice

  9 Worker with stone

  10 Right now

  11 Hero's antithesis, in sports

  12 Concerning, on a memo

  13 Middling grades

  18 Assent at sea

  21 Cereal-pitching tiger

  23 Chevy's answer to the Mustang

  24 Piano student's exercise

  25 Flip-chart holder

  26 Orders in the court

  28 Platforms for choirs

  29 Hoops great Shaq

  31 San Diego ballplayer

  32 Common Windows typeface

  33 Zumba moves

  35 Knucklehead

  36 Latish lunchtime

  38 "__ Master's Voice"

  43 Pledge-drive gift, often

  47 San Fran gridders

  50 Surveyors' units

  52 1959 Kingston Trio hit

  53 Origami medium

  54 Mail that's often filtered

  55 Apple throwaway

  56 Utah ski mecca

  57 Sonata finale, often

  58 The Bard's river

  59 Chaucerian offering

  60 Diva's delivery

  61 Milky Way unit

  63 Arcing shot

  “Isn’t that nice?” Sandy said. “We made it just for you. You want to whip through it and see what it says?”

  “No, I do not want to whip through it,” Cora said. “I am not some trained dog performing on command. If that’s what you want me for, I’m out.” Cora wheeled on Melvin. “Did you put them up to this?”

  “You know I didn’t,” Melvin said. “Sandy, if you were doing a medical show and I brought in a doctor, would you have him check everyone’s pulse?”

  “I thought it would be fun. It’s supposed to have a special theme.”

  “Who did this?”

  “Nelson did.”

  “It’s what he’s been working on instead of the screenplay?”

  “Well, actually—” Nelson said.

  “Well actually what?”

  “Puzzles are hard. I was lucky to find this one.”

  “You mean it doesn’t have anything to do with the Puzzle Lady?” Sandy said.

  “Well, it’s a puzzle.”

  “All right,” Melvin said, trying to save the situation. “Let’s wind this back a little. No one’s asked you about a crossword and no one wants you to solve one. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Fine,” Cora said. “Let’s talk money.”

  4

  Points?” Cora said contemptuously. She was on the sidewalk in front of the office building, having stormed out of the meeting the minute she realized she was being offered a percentage instead of cash. Becky and Melvin had followed along trying to calm her down.

  “You know about points?” Melvin said.

  “You’re damn right I know about points. Points are a percentage of the net. And what’s the first thing you learn in the movie business? There’s no net. Points are only valuable in if they’re part of the gross. And that’s the second thing you learn in the movie business. There’s no gross.”

  “How do you know all that?”

  “I dated a sound man.”

  “While we were married?”

  “Don’t start with me. What kind of a rinky-dinky production is this? There’s no script. There’s no budget. And they’re going to start auditioning girls tomorrow. You know what that sounds like? That sounds like every porno ever made.”

  “Oh, you dated a porn actor?”

  “Cinematographer. That’s what they call whoever they can find with a camera. This movie is just a step up from that. If not a step down.”

  “I think you’re taking this too personally.”

  “What the hell happened, Melvin. First you were going to hit the New York Times Best Seller List. You didn’t. You hit one hundred forty-seven on the USA Today list, and lasted one week. After your six-figure advance the book didn’t get the kick the publisher expected.”

  “What kick?”

  “Are you kidding? You threw in every scandal you could remember from our marriage and made a lot of other stuff up.”

  “You didn’t let me out you as a fraud. That would have been the real selling point.”

  “Ho hum,” Cora said. “It’s a one-note story that burns itself out in two days. The Puzzle Lady can’t do puzzles. Who cares? You imagine making a movie out of that? You couldn’t even get a decent mystery series.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

  “How do you expect me to feel? I just had a production meeting with the most dysfunctional movie crew that ever escaped from a looney bin. Becky, defend me. Tell him that I’m right.”

  “Cora’s emotionally involved and doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Becky said.

  Cora’s mouth fell open. “Why, you two-bit shyster. Whose lawyer are you?”

  “Yours. But I’ve got an iPhone.”

  “So?”

  “I Googled these people. Sandy Delfin has an Independent Film Award. That sexist producer who rubbed you the wrong way has options on a number of properties, including a Kurt Vonnegut short story.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “And that oblivious screenwriter’s been nominated for an Edgar by the Mystery Writers of America.”

  Cora’s mouth fell open. “For what?”

  “They used to give an award for best movie. He was one of three screenwriters listed in the credits.”

  “You’re telling me these guys are legit?”

  “As legit as anyone else in Hollywood.”

  “See,” Melvin said. “They’re perfectly legitimate. They just seem disorganized now because they’re just getting started. Today they weren’t doing anything. Besides meeting you. Don’t judge by one meeting. Most interviews don’t go that way.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because they’re not interviewing you.”

  Cora smoldered in silence.

  “Tell you what,” Melvin said. “Come to the audition tomorrow. See how it goes. No commitment. If you don’t like it, you don’t do the movie.”

  “When and where’s the audition?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Oh, you smooth talker. What girl could resist such an invitation?”

  “I’ll find out and I’ll call you.”

  “You’ll find out and you’ll call Becky. She’s the one with the cell phone. I’m the old relic living in the Stone Age.”

  “I don’t think relics are actually living,” Melvin pointed out. “I mean, you being a wordsmith and all.”

  “Was that a veiled threat?” Becky said. “Are you trying to pressure Cora? ‘Do the movie or I’ll out you’? If so, you might want to look at your contract.”

  “I would never do any such thing,” Melvin said. “Of course, if someone else were to spill the beans, I couldn’t do anything about that. Come on, Cora. Becky says these guys are legit. So it’s not MGM. It’s a major motion picture and it’s getting made. Come to the audition. The worst that can happen is you say no.”

  “If only that were true,” Cora said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The worst that can happen is I say yes.”

  5

  Auditions were held in a theater on 42nd Street. Cora’s first thought was of the raincoat crowd, but with the Disneyfication of Times Square it was actually a perfectly legitimate Broadway theater.

  The gofer Max had set up a table in the lobby where a parade of actresses were dropping off pictur
es and resumes, and then milling around hoping to get a chance to read. He leapt up when Cora came in, and said, “Ah, Miss Felton, we’ve been expecting you. Come with me.” He picked up the pile of head shots and opened the door to the audience for her. Cora sailed in, aware of a hundred eyes on her. She wondered if they reflected mere jealousy, or perhaps dashed hopes that someone so perfect for the part of the Puzzle Lady had showed up.

  It was exactly what Cora would have expected for an audition. House lights were at half, the stage lights were on. The director sat about six rows back dead center, where a four by eight sheet of plywood had been laid across the backs of the seats to form a makeshift desk. A woman with the clipboard sat on one side of him. The producer sat on the other.

  A woman up on stage was reading from a script. As Cora came in, she heard the director say, “Thank you,” and saw the woman on stage look up, startled at having been stopped. A young woman, clearly another production assistant, was immediately at her side to take the pages from her and usher her toward the door.

  The director turned and saw Cora. “Ah, good, you’re here. Max, give her a pad and pencil in case she wants to take notes. Sit anywhere, write down anything that occurs to you, we can go over it all later.”

  Max handed over the pile of photos. The director riffled through them, selected three, handed the rest back. “These don’t need to read, thank you very much.” He put the three resume photos on the bottom of a short stack on the plywood table, and handed the top one on the stack to Max. “We’ll see her next.”

  Max was back minutes later with an actress in tow. She was fortyish, curly brown hair, and what the boys in college used to call pleasingly plump.

  Cora tugged self-consciously at her waistband.

  “Kelly Foster,” Max announced, and put the photo on the plywood desk.

  The actress took the pages, walked center stage. She looked up from the script. “I’m reading P. D. Cora?”

  “That’s right. That’s Present Day Cora. The movie’s part contemporary, part period piece. This is present day. The Puzzle Lady you see in interviews and ads. That’s who you’re reading.”

  “And she’s like that in person?”

  “She’s however you want to read her. That’s what we’re looking to see. Billy?”

  A young man who’d been sitting on the edge of the stage hopped up. He held a script. “We’re going from the top of 26, when Melvin enters.” He struck a jaunty pose. “Hey, baby.”

  The actress immediately dropped into character. “Oh, for God’s sake.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Where’s your girlfriend?”

  “Don’t be like that.”

  “I’m not being like anything. I just wondered where your girlfriend is.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “Where’s the girl you brought up to Bakerhaven for the weekend so you wouldn’t get bored while you try to charm me into doing your project?”

  “That’s not exactly how I would have phrased it either.”

  “I’m not helping you, Melvin. You’re doing this on your own, against my better wishes.”

  “Yeah, but I’m doing it, so we might as well get along.”

  “And you brought Bambi to serve as a negotiator?”

  “Her name’s Chloe.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “So, you want to slip off somewhere and talk this over?”

  “Slip off? Is that your current euphemism?”

  “Thank you,” the director said.

  The actress looked up from the script. “Is that what you wanted?”

  The gofer girl was immediately at her side to take the pages.

  The actress wasn’t yielding. “Would you like me to read from the period piece scenes?”

  “Thank you,” Sandy repeated, without looking at her.

  The gofer girl was already guiding her up the aisle. “That’s all for today,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “What’s she reading from?” Cora asked Sandy as they went out.

  “Oh. The script. Remind me to get you one before you go.”

  As Cora watched, a parade of actresses marched on and off, reading the same scene. None particularly impressed. Cora’s eyes began to glaze over. She wasn’t a stranger to show business, having filmed countless takes of Granville Grains commercials, but the idea that a woman playing her could be so incredibly boring was still hard to take.

  During a break in the action, when Max was dropping off another pile of head shots, she slipped up behind Sandy and said, “See anything you like?”

  He gestured to the file of photos. “I’ll hear a couple of these,” he said.

  “No, I mean the ones who’ve read. Any of them strike you as right?”

  “Not at all.” He smiled. “It’s tough with the genuine article to compare ’em with.”

  “I’m not reading,” Cora said.

  “Hey, who asked you? I’m just saying they can’t hold a candle to you.”

  “Who do I see about that script?”

  “Oh. The screenwriter, of course, but he’s not here. We’ve got the pages. Betsy, give her a set of pages.”

  The assistant pulled a set of pages out of her notebook and handed them over.

  “Are they all reading present day?” Cora said.

  “They are today. The other scene’s tomorrow.”

  “You got those pages?”

  “Betsy?”

  The woman dug in her notebook.

  “If this is P.D. Cora, what’s the period piece? P.P. Cora?”

  “Funny. No, just Cora.”

  The assistant passed the pages over just as Max led in another actress. She moved center stage, and read the scene with the actor playing Melvin, who played the part with all the enthusiasm of a drowned rat.

  Cora resumed her seat, and thumbed through the other scene. It was remarkably similar to the one being read on stage. Cora and Melvin, in the past or in present day, seemed to spar like a married couple on a TV sitcom. If the two scenes being read were any indication, the movie wasn’t going to hurt her reputation at all. She couldn’t imagine anyone going to it.

  6

  Mommy, Buddy’s cheating!” Jennifer said.

  On the front lawn Jennifer and Buddy were playing croquet. Jennifer was smacking balls through the wickets with a wooden mallet. Buddy was stealing the balls and running away. It was a friendly game, with no one keeping score.

  Still there were rules.

  “Buddy’s going to cheat. He’s a dog. Dogs forget the rules. But every time he does, you get a free shot.”

  “A free shot?”

  “Yes. You can put the ball anywhere you want and hit it.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere.”

  “In front of the arch?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay, Buddy,” Jennifer said. “You’re in trouble now!”

  Jennifer ran off to put her ball down and hit it through the arch before Buddy could grab it.

  Aaron shook his head. “How am I going to teach her fair play if Mommy keeps taking her side?”

  “You expect girls to play fair?” Cora said. “It’s a wonder you ever got married.

  Cora, Sherry, and Aaron were lounging in lawn chairs watching Jennifer. Cora was sipping lemonade. Aaron was paging through the screenplay. Scripts fresh from the copy center had arrived just as auditions were ending. The director had presented one to Cora with a flourish.

  “You really gave up your points in the movie?” Aaron said.

  “I’m an upfront girl. I like to get paid upfront.”

  “What other profession is that true of?” Aaron said.

  “Probably a lot more honorable one than this. The bottom line is we needed the money and I took it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Oh, oh, I got this!” Aaron said, putting up his hand in mock eagerness.

  “Aaron, so help me . . .” Sherry warned.

 
“No, no, please,” Cora said. “What have you got, Aaron?”

  “The Puzzle Lady Does Dallas wins best feature at the adult film awards.”

  “Oh, is that all,” Cora said. “I thought you were going to come up with something embarrassing.”

  “That would be tough to do.” Aaron gestured to the screenplay. “So far this is pretty bland.”

  “Thank God you’re not the film critic,” Cora said. “Any more insights about my movie career?”

  “Sometimes you’re called P.D. Cora. What’s that about?”

  “The film bounces back and forth between the time Melvin and I were married and now. P.D. stands for Present Day Cora.”

  “Really?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Seems awkward and convoluted.”

  “Oh, there’s another good quote! You want to be my publicist.”

  “And the Cora is out of line.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “The caption over the dialogue. The other captions are in the right place. For P.D. Cora, I mean. But the captions for Cora are indented a good five or six letters. And there’s no reason they should be. It’s like someone accidentally tabbed over before typing the name.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look at a page of dialogue. Everybody else is right in line. And the Coras are a tab over.”

  “Hey, Melvin wrote it. I rest my case.”

  “Isn’t there a screenwriter?”

  “There is. From another planet. It’s a wonder he got anything right.”

  “And yet you’re doing the project.”

  “Doing the project is a broad term. I’m showing up on the set and cashing a check.”

  “Sounds like you’re invaluable.”

  “I damn well mean to be.”

  7

  The phone rang at midnight. Cora flailed her arm, and knocked the reading lamp off the night table. She lunged for the lamp, and knocked the phone to the floor. She reached for it and tumbled out of bed.

  Cora rolled over and encountered the light. She clicked it on. The phone was on the floor, the receiver was off the hook, and a voice was coming out of it. She grabbed the phone and snapped, “Hello?”

  “Cora?”

  It took her a moment to process who it was. “Crowley?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the matter? Stephanie leave you?”

  Sergeant Crowley was the cop Cora’d been involved with until she met his off again, on again girlfriend. That wouldn’t have ended most of Cora’s relationships, but she happened to like Stephanie. It was a first for the Puzzle Lady, whose instinct was to scratch their eyes out.