Lights! Camera! Puzzles!

by Parnell Hall

  “Stephanie’s fine. It’s professional.”

  Cora checked the clock. “At midnight? That can’t be good.”

  “It’s not. I got a homicide I thought you might be interested in.”

  “How come?”

  “I happen to know you like ’em.”

  “I happen to know how many of them there are in New York City. What makes you think I might like this one?”

  “It happened in a theater on Forty-second Street.”

  “I thought that kind of theater was gone.”

  “Very funny. I have it on good authority you were here this afternoon.”

  “Oh, that theater. Who’s dead?”

  “Might be an actress. Hard to tell. She didn’t have any ID.”

  “How was she killed?”

  “She was hit on the head with a sandbag.”

  “That fell from the gird?”

  “No. From a pile in the wings.”

  “That would seem to rule out an accident.”

  “No kidding. Well, if you’re not interested, I gotta get to work.”

  “Hang on, hang on. How’d you connect her to me?”

  “She was holding a screenplay. At least it was underneath the body. Something called Untitled Puzzle Lady Project.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  8

  cora made good time. The ambulance was still out front when she got there. So were three police cars. A throng were crowded around the crime scene ribbon and trying to see in the door. Of course, there was nothing to see. That didn’t stop them from blocking what was still a pretty crowded sidewalk.

  Cora pushed through the crowd, ducked under the crime scene ribbon, and encountered a New York City cop who immediately turned her back.

  “Crowley sent for me,” she said. “If you want to piss him off, don’t let me go in there.”

  That got his attention. From the look on his face, he wasn’t sure who Crowley was.

  “That’s Sergeant Crowley, homicide, NYPD. Ask around. Someone will know.”

  The cop gulped, weighing how much trouble he’d be in if he stopped her compared to how much trouble he might be in if he let her go.

  He decided to pass the buck. He opened the door to the lobby and called to another cop inside, “Hey, Marty. She says the sergeant wants to see her. See if it’s true.”

  Marty grinned. “Of course he wants to see her. She’s the Puzzle Lady. Come with me.”

  The cop ushered her into the audience.

  The medical examiner had finished with the body, and the EMS unit was rolling a gurney up the aisle.

  The dead woman was the girl who’d been guiding the actresses on and off the stage so efficiently.

  Cora shook her head.

  Sergeant Crowley hopped down from the stage and came up the aisle to meet her. “Recognize her?”

  “Yeah. She’s a production assistant. I don’t know her name. She was at the audition this afternoon.”

  “Oh, so you were at the audition this afternoon?”

  “I thought you knew I was.”

  “No, that was a bluff. Because of the screenplay. Glad you fell for it.”

  “Well, don’t get too proud of yourself. If you’d asked me, I’d have told you.”

  “Why were you here?”

  “They want me to be an associate producer on the movie.”

  “You’re endorsing the project?”

  Cora grimaced. “That’s what Sherry said. I’m not endorsing the project. I wish the project never existed. The damn thing’s killed my career so badly I need the money.”

  “They’re paying you?”

  “Not yet, they’re not. The offered me points. I won’t do it for points. I’ll do it if they come up with the cash.”

  “But not for a percentage?”

  “You know about points?”

  “I’m a cop. That doesn’t mean I don’t know anything.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind.”

  “You don’t know this woman’s name?”

  “No.”

  “Who might?”

  “Someone who actually is working on this production. That would include the director, the producer, the screenwriter, a woman who is either the director’s personal assistant or the script supervisor, and another production assistant.”

  “You got names for any of them?”

  “None I’d care to say in mixed company.”

  “Walked into that one, didn’t I? Come on, can you help me out here?”

  “The director is Sandy Delfin. I don’t really know the rest. Becky Baldwin Googled a bunch of them, so she’d know, but I doubt if she’d like to get a call this time of night.”

  “You got a phone number for anyone?”

  “Yeah. Melvin. I don’t care if you wake him up.”

  9

  Melvin was concerned. “You’re not shutting us down?”

  “Why would I do that?” Crowley said.

  “I don’t know. But I’ve never had a movie before. I’m on guard for any disaster.”

  “You’re afraid a murder might qualify?”

  “Only if you find the director or producer guilty. We could probably survive losing the screenwriter.”

  “I’m sure the Writer’s Guild will be glad to hear it,” Crowley said dryly. “Come up with some names and numbers.”

  “Got ’em right here,” Melvin said. He passed over a sheet of paper. “You say it’s a production assistant who’s dead?”

  “Yeah. A girl. You got a name for her?”

  “There’s a couple of them on the show.”

  “The one who was here this afternoon,” Cora said. “On stage giving pages to the actresses.”

  “They were both doing that.”

  “The one who was here when I was.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How could you not remember?”

  “I only had eyes for you.”

  “Oh, give me a break,” Cora said.

  “That’s charming,” Crowley said, dryly. “Could you try to be a little help?”

  “There’s two production assistants. Karen Hart and Melinda Fisher.”

  “Which is which.”

  “Karen Hart wants to be an actress. Melinda Fisher’s thinking about going back to college.”

  “Young, pretty, pony tail,” Crowley said.

  “Could be either one. In fact, Cora might have seen both of ’em. They were both wearing jeans and a tank top.”

  “Hey, Parker,” Crowley yelled.

  A detective who was photographing the crime scene came over. “Sergeant?”

  “You got a shot of the corpse?”

  “Sure.”

  “Show him.”

  The detective scrolled through the digital pictures on his screen. “Here we go.” He held it up for Melvin.

  “That’s Karen Hart. Poor thing. Why would anyone want to hurt her?”

  “Why, indeed?” Crowley said.

  “Was it a sex crime?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Why do you think?” Cora said. “It’s his first thought.”

  “Well, you come up with a motive,” Melvin said. “Who’d want to kill a young girl like that?”

  Cora shook her head. “It’s ‘girl’ or ‘young woman.’ A young girl would be in elementary school.”

  Crowley was on the phone. “Perkins. The decedent is Karen Hart. Twentyish. Get me everything you can.” Crowley clicked the phone off and called to the detective, “Send Perkins a picture.” He turned back to Melvin. “You know anything else about her?”

  “Can’t say as I do.”

  “Does that mean you don’t,” Cora said, “or you don’t want to tell him in front of me?”

  “Let’s not play games,” Crowley said. “When is the last time you saw the decedent?”

  “She was here when I went home.”

  “Is that the same time Cora left?”

  “No, she left earlier.”

 
“Establishing my alibi,” Cora said.

  “No, you could have come back after Melvin left.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “To show you why it’s a bad joke. A cop who didn’t know you might get the wrong idea.”

  “Good thing you know me.”

  “So who was here when you left,” Crowley asked Melvin.

  “The gofers. That would be the decedent and the other two production assistants. Melinda Fisher and Max.”

  “You don’t know his last name?” Cora said.

  “Why would I?”

  “Who left when you did?”

  “The director. The producer had already gone home.”

  “What about the director’s assistant?”

  “Actually, she stayed behind. To count the pages.”

  “Count the pages?”

  “Yeah. We don’t want the script getting out while we’re still casting.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure. I just know he had her do it.”

  “What about the people who run the theater?”

  “I wouldn’t know. It’s a vacant theater. That how we were able to get it. They probably opened up for the production assistants. Maybe the production manager. He didn’t stay for the audition, but he was here when I got here.”

  “Is his name on the sheet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we’ll get to him,” Crowley said grimly.

  10

  Sandy Delfin wasn’t happy to be getting a call. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yeah, I know what time it is. Sergeant Crowley, NYPD. Homicide. I got a dead girl in a theater on Forty-Second Street. You were there this afternoon.”

  “What?”

  “Production assistant named Karen Hart. Hit on the head with a sandbag. No chance it was accidental. Someone killed her. Onstage where you were auditioning. If you want to be auditioning tomorrow you’d better get down here.”

  Sandy got there fast. He must have been staying in the neighborhood. Cora wondered if Crowley took note of it. She was sure he had.

  As soon as he got the preliminaries out of the way, Crowley jumped right in. “When was the last time you saw her?”

  “At the audition.”

  “We know it was at the audition. But when specifically do you remember seeing her last? Did you say goodbye to her on your way out the door?”

  “No, why would I?”

  “That was an example. Anything you can remember would be helpful.”

  “She was helping the actresses read. Telling them where on the page the scene started. Getting them off stage when they were done. That’s the hardest part. They don’t want to go. They want to stay up there, say anything that might possibly help. Stupid. The only thing that helps is being cooperative and doing what they’re told.”

  “Who was the last actress who read?”

  “Wow. I have no idea.”

  “Who would know?”

  “Good question. I’m sure someone must.”

  “Who was here when you left?”

  “I really couldn’t tell you.”

  “Try.”

  “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

  “I’m not auditioning for you. You don’t have to like my tone. You do have to answer my questions. It’s a police investigation into a homicide. The law is rather specific on that. Why are you fighting? A person on your crew has been killed. I would think you’d want to find out who did it.”

  “I do. I just don’t know anything that would help.”

  “That’s because you don’t solve murders, you make movies. If a plot isn’t working, you change it. We’re stuck with what we’ve got. So answer my questions the best you can and we’ll take it from there.”

  Sandy nodded approvingly. “You are very good. Would you consider a cameo, Sergeant? When all this is over, I mean.”

  Crowley took a deep breath.

  Cora jumped in. “Ask him after he solves this thing. So it can’t be perceived as a bribe.”

  Sandy’s mouth fell open. “I had no intention.”

  “You’re not used to murder investigations, so you don’t know how to behave,” Cora said. “Trust me, this guy’s on your side, and the sooner he cleans this up the better for all of us. So help him out with straight answers without the Hollywood hype.”

  Sandy looked at Crowley. He jerked his thumb in Cora’s direction. “She’s good. What do you want to know?”

  “Who left when you did?”

  “I know Melvin did. I can’t swear to anyone else.”

  “And who stayed?”

  “I know Betsy did. Betsy’s my personal assistant. She’s really the script supervisor.”

  Cora nodded to herself. Right on both counts.

  “How did the audition go?”

  “Terrible. We didn’t find anybody.”

  “Is that the production assistant’s fault?”

  “No. Why would it be?”

  “I’m looking for a reason someone might resent the victim. It wasn’t her fault you didn’t find anyone.”

  “Of course not. She has nothing to do with it.”

  “And it wasn’t her fault someone wasn’t chosen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is it possible some actress felt slighted?”

  “I can’t see how. They’d be more apt to blame Max.”

  “Max?”

  “One of the production assistants. He collected their resumes and gave the rejects back. The ones who didn’t get to read.”

  “But not the girl.”

  “They never saw her. Max took their resumes in the lobby. I chose which ones I wanted to see. The ones I didn’t he sent home.”

  “He gave the resumes back?”

  “I don’t know. He might have kept them. To make them think there was still a chance.”

  “So they never met the decedent at all?”

  “It’s weird to hear you call her that.”

  “Didn’t you have another girl working the audition?” Cora said. “Melinda something. Couldn’t Karen have gone out while Melinda was onstage?”

  “Now that you mention it, I think she’s right,” Sandy said. “And the girls look pretty much alike. I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “So she could have gone out then,” Cora said. “And an actress who had read could have tried to pump her for information. You know, find out how she did.”

  “Then I’ll need a list of the actresses who read.”

  “Betsy can help you out with that. But if you’ll forgive me, Sergeant, I can’t imagine an actress killing her over that.”

  “You think it’s more likely someone on your crew did it?”

  “Certainly not. I think it’s more likely her boyfriend came by to pick her up and they had a fight.”

  “Does she have a boyfriend?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “She had a boyfriend,” Melvin said.

  Cora rolled her eyes. Of course Melvin would know that.

  As if on cue, a young man burst through the door, bleary-eyed, with long, disheveled hair and a two-day growth that was currently fashionable but on him suggested dissipation.

  “Where is she?” he cried. “It can’t be true. Tell me it isn’t her.”

  “I take it that’s not Max,” Crowley said.

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  “Are you Karen Hart’s boyfriend?”

  “Yes. Where is she?”

  “I’m afraid she’s gone.”

  “Where? I’ve got to see her.”

  “We’ll arrange for you to make the identification. I have a few questions first.”

  “Questions?”

  “First, what’s your name?”

  “Patrick Monahan. Karen’s my girlfriend. Where is she?”

  “The EMS unit took her. I’ll have an officer run you over there.”

  “Is she really dead?”

  “I’m sorry.”

 
; He sank into one of the seats in the first row of the audience. “I don’t understand.”

  “When did you see her last?”

  “She didn’t come home. She wasn’t answering her cell phone. I came down to find her.”

  “And?”

  “The theater was locked up tighter than a drum.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Eight. Eight-thirty.”

  “She lived with you?”

  He shuddered at the past tense. Nodded.

  “Where was that?”

  “East Ninety-eighth.”

  “So you were here around eight-thirty.”

  “Yes. But she wasn’t here and I couldn’t get in. At least as far as I know she wasn’t here. What happened?”

  Cora had a question she was dying to ask, but she didn’t want to step on Crowley’s toes. She figured he’d get to it.

  He did. “Why are you here now?”

  “Huh?”

  “How did you know she’d been killed?”

  “Oh. Max called. Max Garfield, works on the movie. Said something had happened to Karen and the police were here.”

  “How did he know?”

  “He said someone called him.”

  “Who?”

  “I didn’t ask. I ran out and got a cab.”

  Crowley turned to the director.

  Sandy shrugged. “I called Max on the way over here. In case I needed something. I don’t know who he called.”

  Apparently he had called everyone, because in the next five minutes the entire crew descended on the theater. The producer, the script supervisor, the production manager, and the other production assistant.

  Cora was glad to see her. With everyone saying how much the two girls resembled each other, she half expected Melinda Fisher to be the dead girl, and Karen Hart to come walking in the door.

  It didn’t happen. Melinda was Melinda, and Karen was Karen, and Karen was dead. And the boyfriend was devastated, and the mob scene was chaos.

  Cora felt sorry for Crowley, but for once she was glad she didn’t have to solve the damn thing.

  11

  Are you going to the audition?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Auntie Cora said hell,” Jennifer said brightly.