Lights! Camera! Puzzles!

by Parnell Hall

“They were. But I happened to bump into the director. One of those carefully arranged coincidences.”

  “When was that?” Cora said.

  “Before they even started casting. I don’t think you were on the picture yet. Melvin was, of course.”

  “Do you know Melvin?”

  “Just from the book. Which I happened to be reading when I met the director.”

  Cora frowned. “I don’t see that working, somehow.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re holding a copy of the book. The director sees you, and says, oh, that’s Melvin.”

  “You’re right. I had help.”

  “Who?”

  “His assistant put in a word for me.”

  “His assistant?”

  “You know. Betsy. The script supervisor.”

  “How did you know her?”

  “I made a point of meeting her. I wanted the part.”

  “And now that you’ve got it?”

  “I couldn’t be happier. Are you kidding me? It’s a great character. Oh, sure, today he’s a doormat, but that’s just the way the scene’s written. Talk about acting.” Fred grinned at Angela. “I gotta be convincing to get the best of you.”

  A gofer stuck his head in the door. “Fred, Sandy wants to see you.”

  “Me too?” Angela said.

  “No, just him.”

  Fred sighed and followed the gofer out.

  Angela smiled knowingly.

  “What’s that all about?” Cora said.

  “Have you noticed that my costar isn’t very good?”

  “It’s hard to keep up with you.”

  Angela made a face. “Don’t give me the toady routine. I get enough of that. The fact is, he’s not that good, which made me wonder how he got cast. Which is why I was asking him about it when you came in.” She jerked her thumb in the direction the gofer and Fred had gone. “That would tend to confirm he wasn’t a director’s choice.”

  “Then why was he cast?”

  Angela smiled. “Sweetheart, it’s the movies. There are so many reasons. Someone owes someone a favor. Someone wants something else more.”

  “Such as what?”

  “Money in the budget. Some other part in the movie. A job for some ninety-two-year-old sound mixer who can’t even hear the director yell cut.”

  “I can’t believe they’d do that.”

  “Why not? The boom man can give him signs.”

  “We have a deaf sound man?”

  “That’s just a for instance.”

  “You think it might have something to do with gofer girl’s murder.”

  Angela shrugged. “Something must.”

  28

  cora found Fred Roberts at the catering cart trying to chat up some of the young extras. To girls with no lines whatsoever, he could strut around like a star. He was actually hanging out because he wasn’t a star, and didn’t have his own trailer.

  “So, what did Sandy want?” Cora said.

  Fred made a face. “Line reading. God save me from a director who wants to give line readings.”

  “You want me to tell him to back off?” Cora said.

  Fred’s mouth fell open. It took him a few seconds to realize she was kidding. He grinned. “Scared me there a moment. You don’t tell the director to back off. You tell him what he wants to hear and then you do what you want.”

  “Smart,” Cora said. And dumb for bragging about it, she thought to herself. “So you know the script supervisor?”

  “You might say.”

  “I did. And you did too. I believe you said because you really wanted the part.”

  It was like a light bulb went on in Fred’s head, and he suddenly realized who she was. “Hey, you’re not planning on getting me into trouble, are you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I just can’t help picking on you. You’re playing Melvin. I spent my whole life picking on Melvin.”

  “That’s right, you did. So how did he ever hold his own?”

  “You think he held his own?”

  “Well, he stuck around for a while. I can’t imagine he did that if he was constantly getting pasted.”

  “He only stuck around to pay me back. Not realizing that most of the methods he was using were just giving me ammunition for divorce court.”

  “Uh huh,” Fred said. Clearly that wasn’t the answer he was looking for, but Cora wasn’t sure if there was an answer he was looking for.

  “You feel the director’s picking on you unfairly?”

  Fred put up his hand. “I didn’t say that. You must have misheard me. That is not the type of thing I’d like to have get back to him.”

  “Relax, I’m not a snitch. Tell me, you auditioned for him, didn’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did he give you grief in the audition?”

  “He did. It wasn’t an audition, it was just a reading. And I had to read with the screenwriter reading Angela, for Christ’s sake. So the scene just lay there. And he kept giving me notes like it was my fault. Frankly I didn’t think he was going to cast me. But he did.”

  “Because of his assistant?”

  “Don’t be silly. She got me the audition, but he wouldn’t cast me just to please her. But he did cast me, and this is my first day of shooting. It’s not going to be fun if he’s going to pick on me all the time. I mean, the scene I just did, I got no lines.”

  “So what wasn’t he satisfied with?”

  “My reactions. Which is a real kick in the ass. It’s her scene. She’s got all the action. I just got to sit there and watch her do it. Give me a break. A crazy broad comes at my car with a golf club, I’m going to jump out and stop her from using it. But it’s not in the script. I just gotta sit there and react. So I’m rolling my eyes and giving the audience a look-what-this-nutcase-is-doing-here, and doing everything I can without saying something or doing something. Are you going to tell me that’s not enough?”

  Cora shook her head. “It’s too much. You’ve lived with her for years, you know her peculiarities, you know she’s gonna do what she’s gonna do. Don’t react at all. Just sit there while she smashes the headlight and gets into the car. Then you turn your head slightly, give her a deadpan, turn back and start the car.”

  “Wow,” Fred said. He shook his head. “That’s not what Sandy said.”

  “It’s what he meant.”

  “Well, it couldn’t be worse than the notes he’s giving me.”

  “And you have no idea why Sandy cast you in the first place? Other than knowing his assistant.”

  “Well, I might have had help from the producer, I don’t know.”

  “You met the producer?”

  “No. But he might have spoken up for me.”

  “Why, if he doesn’t know you?”

  “Well, this girl was going to give him a nudge.”

  “The script supervisor.”

  “No. She was working on the director. The producer was a long shot, may or may not have happened. She said he’d see what she could do.”

  “She? Who was that?”

  “One of the production assistants.” He frowned. “The one that got killed, actually.”

  29

  The scene actually got applause. Angela and Fred came out of the Hyatt. The valet drove up in the car. Angela had him pop the trunk. Fred got in. Angela got the golf club, and walked around to the front of the car.

  Fred just sat there, the world-weary husband, waiting for his wife.

  Sandy started to yell cut. Cora could see him frown and open his mouth. But he restrained himself, and watched as the scene played out.

  Angela smashed the headlight, gave the valet the club, and got in the car.

  Fred gave her a deadpan, turned back, and started the car.

  Sandy yelled, “Cut!”

  And the crew applauded.

  Sandy smiled and nodded, taking all the credit. He put his arms around his actors as they got out of the car, and talked to them in low tones. Cora
couldn’t hear what they were saying, but everyone was happy.

  “All right,” Sandy called out to the crew. “Print that, and we’re going in for close-ups. It’s a camera move.”

  Angela pulled Cora aside while the crews set up the camera. “What happened to Fred?”

  “He knew the girl.”

  “What?”

  “Before he got the part. He didn’t just know the script supervisor. He knew the dead gofer girl.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “He just told me. The script supervisor got him the audition, but there’s no way she got him the part. He thinks he had help from the producer.”

  A couple of crew members wandered by. An electrician and a grip, as far as Cora could tell. It wasn’t like they had uniforms. Cora smiled at them and looked discretely away.

  “Let’s get some coffee,” Angela said, leading Cora off toward the catering truck.

  “Read my mind,” Cora said.

  “How the hell did you find out all that?”

  “I asked.” Cora poured herself a cup of coffee and dumped in milk and sugar.

  “I asked too. You heard what I got.”

  “You asked first. So he told you about the script supervisor. He didn’t tell me about her because he’d already told you. So he told me about the other thing.”

  “He didn’t think it was important?”

  “Did you tell him it was important? I’m sure you just made it casual chitchat so he wouldn’t freeze up. But you made the mistake of being in this movie, so you got interrupted by shooting. No one interrupted me. I questioned him about how he got cast, and he said the script supervisor got him the audition, but she couldn’t have gotten him the part. He said the audition didn’t go well, so he must have gotten help from someone else, probably the producer. He said the gofer girl was going to work on the producer for him.”

  “Does Crowley know that?”

  “I doubt it. Fred wasn’t around when she was killed. No one knew he was on the picture. The man hadn’t auditioned yet.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “Hadn’t thought of it.”

  “I thought he was your friend.”

  “Melvin was my friend. Not to compare the two, but friendship is transitory.”

  “Oh, the wordsmith.”

  “Oh, the movie star.”

  “Right. We weren’t going to do that.”

  Melinda Fisher hurried up. Cora couldn’t help thinking of her as the gofer girl who wasn’t dead. “Ready for your close-up, Miss Broadbent?”

  Angela smiled. “That still gives me chills,” she said, as she headed back to the set.

  30

  cora went in search of the producer. She hadn’t seen him on the set, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t there. They had a crew of eighty-five, not including all the boyfriends, girlfriends, hangers-on, and people the production assistants were eager to impress by letting them be there.

  Still, producers generally didn’t make themselves inconspicuous, and Howard B. Prescott did not disappoint. He drove straight up to the street corner by the set, ignoring the policeman trying to wave him off. He got out, slammed the door, and pointed at the cop. “Watch my car,” he snapped, and walked off in the direction of the set.

  Cora smiled and tagged along.

  They were shooting close-ups of Angela swinging the golf club. Because they were close-ups, they didn’t need Fred, the valet, or the car. Instead, the gofer Max, looking slightly terrified, knelt holding a target for her to aim at.

  The target was clearly impromptu. It looked like the head of a film canister. Granted, it was large, but film canisters didn’t have handles, and Max was holding it by the edge.

  “She’s not going to hit you,” Sandy said impatiently. “Don’t be a baby and hold the damn thing.”

  “I might hit you,” Angela said. “But I’d be very, very sorry.”

  Howard Prescott ducked under the rope, leaned down, and whispered some words of encouragement into the production assistant’s ear.

  Max looked up at him. He looked more frightened of him than of the golf club, but he managed a smile and a nod.

  Howard ducked back under the rope, and watched as they shot the scene.

  Sandy yelled, “Action.”

  Angela swung the golf club.

  Max held the target.

  The golf club clanged off the film canister.

  Sandy yelled, “Cut!”

  Everyone looked at the director expectantly.

  “Perfect,” Sandy said.

  The director of photography gave it a thumbs-up. “Good for camera.”

  “Okay. Let’s get one more, just for insurance. Reset the shot. First positions everyone, we’re going again.”

  From Cora’s point of view, the whole thing couldn’t have gone better. It gave her a natural opening. She smiled at the producer. “What did you say to him?”

  Howard was obviously pleased with himself. “I said if you do this I’ll remember you. If you don’t do this I’ll remember you as the kid who used to work in pictures.”

  “Nice turn of phrase. Are you also a writer?”

  “Isn’t everyone?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Everyone’s a writer in Hollywood. You got a screenwriter on the picture, half of what he writes gets shot. Sandy’s a writer. I’m a writer. But we’re also in production. We know what needs to be fixed. Screenwriters don’t. Most screenplays are just wishful thinking. The producers do everything. Hiring directors. Fixing the script. Casting.”

  “Did you cast this movie?”

  “Let’s put it this way. You don’t get Angela Broadbent if you don’t happen to know her. I knew she was right for the part. It’s a question of getting her to consider it. Or getting her agent to let her consider it.”

  “The guy she’s playing with. Did you get him?”

  “He’s good, isn’t he? I got a call this morning. Said he just nailed a scene. That’s why I came over. It’s not like I don’t have other projects.”

  “So you picked him too?”

  “I hate to brag.”

  “And yet you’re so good at it,” Cora said.

  He looked at her sharply, saw the twinkle in her eyes. He smiled. “They told me you’re a devil. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be doing the movie.”

  “You would if you had the money for it. That’s the truth, isn’t it? You’ll make anything you can get the money for.”

  “Of course. But we wouldn’t have the money for it if Angela wasn’t doing it.”

  “Were you saying you cast the kid too?”

  “Sandy cast him. I put in a good word for him.”

  “Where did you know him from?”

  “Excuse me, big backer,” he said, and went to greet a well-dressed gentleman who had just arrived on the set with an attractive young lady in tow.

  Sandy locked up the set and took a few close-ups of Angie swinging the club. He didn’t even bother to slate them, he just rolled camera and had her take one swing after another.

  “Cut. Print that,” he said. “Let’s shoot the reverse. Melvin in the car.”

  Angela came over while they were resetting for Fred.

  “Get anything out of Howard?”

  “He confirmed he was the one who was responsible for getting Fred hired.”

  “Oh?”

  “He heard he was good this morning, and wanted to take the credit. He also took credit for casting you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Did he have anything to do with it?”

  “Hell, no. Truth is I was reading the book.”

  “Really?”

  “Hey. You see how boring it is on the shoot? I like to read. I’m a sucker for tell-alls. Particularly someone like you. Wholesome image and wild past. I read the book, I said if even half of this is true, it’s a great part. So I had my agent see who had the film rights. I called Sandy, mentioned our friendship, asked if I could read.”

 
; “You knew Sandy?”

  “Never met him. But you think he’s going to deny it? Two minutes after that phone call I’m his best friend in the industry.”

  Cora frowned. “That’s too bad.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, I assume that means everything the producer said I can also take with a grain of salt.”

  “Hey, it’s the movies. Anything anyone says you can take with a grain of salt. So, did you find out what’s with Fred?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Not about the murder. About his acting. The guy was terrible and suddenly he’s good.”

  “Oh.”

  “You said something to him.”

  “Well, I was talking to him about the other thing, how he got cast and the whole bit, and he’s telling me how Sandy is giving him a hard time, and nothing he does on the picture seems to be right.”

  “So?”

  “I might have alluded to his overacting.”

  “Cora.”

  “He’s got no lines in the scene. He’s just reacting to you. So he’s doing everything he can think of. I told him Melvin wouldn’t bother, try a deadpan.”

  “I knew it. It’s your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “The guy’s terrible, Sandy can’t stand him, I don’t think he’s long for the picture. But they gotta fire him soon before they get too much stuff to reshoot. He plays the scene well, and Sandy’s not happy. He knows someone spoke to him. He’s going to be watching to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Which means the next scene Fred’s in is gonna suck. Which will confirm the fact that somebody spoke to him. Which puts us in a no-win situation. If you don’t work with the guy, he’s going to stink up the movie and Sandy will fire him. If you do work with the guy, Sandy will find out and Sandy will fire him. So, the only question is whether it destroys your position on the movie too.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Please. I work in television.” Angela frowned. “Okay this gives us a small window of opportunity.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The producer’s only going to claim responsibility while Fred’s the fair-haired boy, and that won’t last long. So, let’s assume it’s true, and try to find out if the gofer girl gave him a nudge.”

  Angela cocked her head. “You got any ideas how we could do that?”