Lights! Camera! Puzzles!

by Parnell Hall

  “What do you mean?”

  “That it was those two guys. Melvin and Howard. It’s a movie, you know. About Howard Hughes.”

  “I’ve seen it,” Cora said. “Was that recent?”

  “No. Like I say. Before we started filming. Since we started filming, no one’s got the time. Listen, are you done with me? I’ve got work to do.”

  In the background an A.D. went by with a young actress in a bathrobe.

  Cora smiled. “You have to check on that actress?”

  “Yeah.”

  “The second A.D. got her. She’s on her way to the set.”

  “Oh,” Max said. He didn’t look happy.

  “Listen, you can talk to him later,” Cora said to Crowley. “Let him go.”

  Max hopped up gratefully and hurried off toward the set.

  “What’s that all about?” Crowley said.

  “They’re filming the scene were Cora catches Melvin in bed with a naked girl.” She smiled. “Wanna check it out?”

  “Oh.” Crowley shrugged judiciously. “Might be worth watching.”

  57

  The scene of Cora catching Melvin in bed with the girl dispelled any doubt as to what rating Sandy was going for. The dialogue said PG-13, but the naked girl in the bed said R. She was visibly naked in the whole scene and there was no way to cut around her. Sandy would have to cut out the whole scene. Which wasn’t likely, because it played so well.

  INT: CORA & MELVIN’S BEDROOM–NIGHT

  Cora enters, sees Melvin in bed with TRACY, an attractive young girl. Tracy is naked.

  MELVIN

  It’s not what it looks like.

  CORA

  Of course not. The girl stumbled into your bed and her clothes fell off.

  MELVIN

  She took ’em off while we were waiting for you to get home.

  CORA

  What good timing. Her clothes are off and I’m here. You couldn’t have planned it better.

  MELVIN

  It’s a present. For you. A three-way. For your birthday.

  CORA

  It’s not my birthday.

  MELVIN

  It isn’t?

  (to the girl)

  Listen, could you come back?

  Cora rolls her eyes and goes out, slamming the bedroom door.

  Crowley apparently thought the scene was vital to his investigation, because he stayed for several takes. He might have stayed for more except his pants started vibrating.

  “Is that a cell phone in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?” Cora said.

  Crowley went to a room off the sound stage where people were allowed to make calls. He called Perkins, listened, said, “Uh-huh,” hung up, and went back onto the sound stage.

  “What was that about?” Cora said.

  “They found the cell phone.”

  “The right one, this time?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  “Was it pinging?”

  “The phone stopped pinging late last night. Apparently they’re not designed to work underwater. Otherwise they’d have known it wasn’t the one from Iowa. Anyway the phone is dead, long live the phone. The tech boys are trying to resurrect it now.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is the scene over?”

  “Sorry, Sergeant, the young girl’s wrapped. They sent her home.”

  “I didn’t really suspect her anyway.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “What are they shooting next?”

  “Melvin and Cora. I don’t know which scene, but they’ll be shooting Melvin and Cora all day long. They’ve got to make use of Angela while they’ve got her. They have to maximize her availability.”

  Crowley sighed. “I’m trying to maximize her availability too.”

  58

  Angela grabbed Cora between takes. “Any progress?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What?”

  “They found the girl’s cell phone.”

  “What do they hope to find?”

  “A voicemail from the killer saying, meet me in your car by the river.”

  “Seriously.”

  “That’s what they’d like to find. They’ll settle for a voicemail, a text message, or a phone number.”

  “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want it to be anyone I like.”

  “Who do you like?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “All right. Who would you like it to be?”

  Angela cocked her head. “Are you pissed at me?”

  “No, I’m pissed at the whole situation. I got my life being spewed out in front of me for all to see. I guess everyone realizes it’s mostly fiction, but nonetheless it’s me. Then I got you playing me, which is the best of all possible worlds. I actually like me. Despite Melvin’s distortions. I like where it’s going. But this killer is a real annoyance. He’s not only throwing little monkey wrenches into the works, he’s threatening to derail the entire operation.”

  “Do you think that’s the idea? To stop filming?”

  “Can you think of someone who hates you enough to want to see you fail?”

  “I can think of a lot of actresses who’d like to see me fail. I can’t see them killing three people to do it. We’re talking about someone really deranged. That fits a lot of actresses I know, but I don’t think any of them are homicidal.”

  “Suppose it’s someone else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That they’re out to personally destroy.”

  “Like who?”

  “Well,” Cora said, “it could be anyone besides Steve.”

  “Why?”

  “Not the killer. I mean the person they’re trying to destroy. That couldn’t be him. Because he wasn’t here when the killing started. In fact, the murder of Fred was what got him on the picture.”

  “Suppose someone wanted to destroy Steve, they knew the killing of Fred would get him on the picture, so they devised this intricate plot where they start killing people, get Steve on the picture, and they destroy it. Doing it that way, their motive is disguised.”

  “Doing it that way, their motive is completely nutso. It’s the type of thing that I would come up with because I’m stumped and nothing else is working. Do you really believe that’s the case?”

  “Hell, no. I came up with it because you eliminated Steve.”

  “Not as a suspect. Just as a person someone was trying to get at.”

  “How does he work as a suspect?”

  “Much, much better. He’s the one who profits most from the crime. Here he is, starring opposite you in a movie.”

  Angela considered. “That works.”

  “So why is he trying to sabotage it by killing Sandy?”

  “No one killed Sandy,” Angela said. “Steve dropped the light to make it look like someone was trying to kill Sandy, and to sell the fact that he couldn’t be the killer. For the reasons you just gave.”

  “You’re good at this.”

  “I’m terrible at this. It’s my first murder. I’m coming up with anything I can think of.”

  “So why kill the first gofer girl? It makes no sense at all.”

  Crowley hurried up. “They traced the phone. It’s the victim’s.”

  “And?”

  “No messages. But the last call was at five-oh-five. Just before she was killed.”

  “From who?”

  Crowley grimaced. “From a payphone on the corner of Eighteenth Street and Ninth Avenue. It’s disappointing, but it gives us a good idea what happened. The killer called her, told her to meet him there.”

  “You keep saying him, Sergeant,” Angela said. “Is that a sexist thing, or do you have reason to believe it wasn’t a woman?”

  “Just a holdover from the old days when we used the non-gender specific he.”

  “They’re coming back, Sergeant,” Cora said.

  “The killer could well be a woman. Were you staking a cl
aim?”

  “No, just taking your pulse,” Angela said. “You don’t suspect me, Sergeant?”

  “I’m not going to play that game,” Crowley said. “If you want to confess, fine. Otherwise I’m going to judge my suspects on their merits.”

  “And who are your suspects?”

  Crowley smiled. “I’m not going to play that game either.”

  59

  Becky Baldwin showed up after lunch.

  “Ready for your close-up?” Cora said.

  “I think he’s over that. I walked right by him, he didn’t bat an eye.”

  “A couple of murders will do that. Too bad. You could have been a star.”

  “I haven’t heard from you in a while. What’s new?”

  “Aaron hasn’t kept you up to date?”

  “Sherry’s kept me up to date.”

  Becky and Aaron dated in high school, so Becky was tactful about not monopolizing Aaron to Sherry’s exclusion.

  “So what’s the last you heard?”

  “The police traced the cell phone. It turned out to be the wrong one.”

  “Now they traced the cell phone and it turned out to be the right one. The last call the girl received was made from a pay phone on Ninth Avenue and Eighteenth.”

  “So the killer called her to come meet him.”

  “That’s what they figure.”

  “Does Aaron have it yet?”

  “Gonna call him?”

  “No, just wondered if you did. So does any of this have any effect on your project?”

  Cora’s mouth fell open. “You’re looking out for my interests?”

  “You have a contract. In fact, you have a couple of contracts. One with Melvin, and one with the film people. I want to see you protected.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Hey, there’s money involved.”

  “Not to mention human life.”

  “Oh, the callous lawyer. Probating the will, instead of commiserating over the corpse.”

  “Hmm,” Cora said.

  Becky looked at her. “What do you mean, hmm?”

  “Do you suppose that’s it?”

  “What?”

  “You know, it’s Hollywood. A lot of backbiting. I’ve been thinking about who hates who. Who might want to do who in? But could it be simply money? If so, who do these murders benefit? Financially.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Only inversely. The murder of Fred prevents a financial disaster. It saves us from making a worthless picture with an actor who can’t act. That’s good for everyone’s bottom line. But it’s not what you mean when you talk of a money murder. And it’s only one of three crimes.”

  “Not if the second girl was killed to cover it up. Then it’s part of the same crime. And the first girl—who was killed before Fred was on the picture—wasn’t there the possibility the boyfriend did it?”

  “If you have three crimes, two of which are related, and another one entirely separate, you are writing a mystery an editor throws against the wall.”

  “But no one’s writing a mystery. People are just people, doing what they do. Some are good. Some are bad. Their actions have consequences, and this is what theirs add up to.”

  Cora’s mouth fell open. “Oh, my God. You’ve gone mystic.”

  Becky shrugged. “Nothing mystic about it. I’m just saying these things happen, and they don’t necessarily make sense just because you want them to.”

  Cora nodded. “That I’ll buy.”

  60

  Perkins and a squad of homicide detectives descended on the set in the middle of a take. Max was ready to wrestle them to the ground if they didn’t shut up and stay still until it was over. Then they slipped in and began quietly questioning people every time the camera wasn’t rolling.

  “They’re selective,” Cora said.

  “Oh?” Crowley said.

  “They didn’t question costumes and makeup. They skipped right by. They didn’t question the teamsters either.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t think a teamster could have done it?”

  “It’s possible. But you risk a strike if we tried to arrest one. Not that we won’t do it if the evidence comes in. Most of the time they stay with their trucks. I mean a teamster on the top of the Empire State Building rigging a light to fall would stand out like a sore thumb. Not that they won’t be questioned. But it will be done in a respectful manner. And the teamster captain will be approached as a liaison.”

  “How genteel of you.”

  “Hey, we’re not dealing with thugs here. We’re homicide.”

  Perkins came by. He presented, as always, calm efficiency. “Cars are all accounted for.”

  “Oh?”

  “The P.A.s had three of them.”

  “There’s that many P.A.s that aren’t dead?” Cora said.

  “There’s Max and two other guys. They’re looking to hire a girl, but they haven’t found her yet.”

  “It’s hard to sell a position that’s available because everyone else who had it wound up dead.”

  “The script supervisor has one. The producer has one. The production manager has one. The director doesn’t usually have one, but he took one because the location was in Queens.”

  “Really?” Cora said. “That’s interesting.”

  “Why?” Crowley said.

  “Sandy has a car and driver. He never drives himself.”

  “Yes,” Perkins said. “I understand production is tightening its belt.”

  “Right,” Crowley said. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but it’s interesting. Who else?”

  “That’s it. The decedent had one, of course. Well, gotta go. People to interview.”

  Cora watched Perkins hurry off. “If you could solve a case by diligence alone, he’d probably have this wrapped up before dinner.”

  “He probably would,” Crowley said. “Unfortunately, his style is not well suited to Hollywood.”

  “Is he ruffling feathers?”

  “I don’t know. No one’s thrown me off the picture yet.”

  “You’re a sergeant. Can they do that?”

  “No, but someone might call the mayor and complain about me and ask that I be replaced. And who do you suppose is all buddy-buddy with the mayor? Me, or the person making the call?”

  “Would the mayor do that?”

  “No, but he might call the police commissioner and ask him what the hell was going on. That might force the commissioner to do something. The commissioner doesn’t like that. He wouldn’t be happy. And when the commissioner’s not happy, I’m not happy. And it has a chilling effect on the investigation.”

  “It gives you someone to blame when you can’t catch the killer.”

  “That it does not do. Blaming the commissioner is the fastest way to wind up walking the beat on Staten Island.”

  “You have something against Staten Island?”

  “I have nothing against any of the five boroughs. I just like the one I’m in.” Crowley smiled. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. But it will be interesting to see who he pisses off first.”

  61

  It was Melvin. He strode up to Cora with a chip on his shoulder. “Could you tell the flatfoot I didn’t do it?”

  “He didn’t do it,” Cora said.

  “I know you didn’t,” Crowley said.

  “Could you tell your men?”

  “They’re not my men. Talk to Perkins.”

  “Who’s Perkins?”

  “My man.”

  “Well done, Crowley. I couldn’t have pissed my ex off any better.”

  “It’s not funny,” Melvin said. “Now they want to know where I was yesterday afternoon, what time I left the set, and whether I was using a production car.”

  “Were you?”

  “Not you too.”

  “There’s a limited number of production cars. It helps to check ’em off the list.”

  “Why?”

  “We were filming at the
Copacabana. The girl was found at Eighteenth Street. Whoever killed her either had a car or took a cab. A taxi seems unlikely since we might find the driver. And there’s not really enough time to take public transportation. You can get down to Eighteenth Street, but then you’re a long ways from the river. So the killer probably used their own car, and if it was one of the production cars, we’d like to narrow them down.”

  “Well, I wasn’t.”

  “Do you have your own?”

  “In the city? A garage costs more than our old apartment. I take taxis when I need ’em, and you’re right, Sergeant, I would never take a cab to a murder.”

  Melvin stalked off in search of people to complain to.

  Becky came back. “Is he gone?”

  “You’re ducking Melvin?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I did. For years. Then he wrote a book. Where were you?”

  “Talking to the script supervisor, Betsy. Interesting woman.”

  “In what way?”

  “You know she’s been with Sandy for years?”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is. Didn’t you know that?”

  “I knew they’d worked together before.”

  “She stayed with him through several pictures. Can you think of any reason why she’d do that?”

  “You think she’s got the hots for her boss?”

  Becky shrugged. “Do you?”

  “How would that give her a motive?” Cora said.

  “Well, if she saw these girls as rivals.”

  “And Fred?”

  “Was ruining her boyfriend’s picture.”

  “And her boyfriend displeased her, so she tried to drop a light on his head?”

  “Don’t be silly. The light just fell.”

  “Really?”

  “Lights fall. Trucks back into each other. Things slip. That’s why they have insurance on the movies.”

  “Those are the least of the reasons they have insurance on the movies,” Cora said. “But Betsy was in Sandy’s trailer when the murder took place.”

  “Betsy was in Sandy’s trailer when you think the murder took place. The girl said the actor came out of the trailer and spoke to her, but you’ve only got her word for it, and now she’s dead. So maybe he didn’t come out of the trailer at all. Maybe he was already dead.”

  Cora turned to Crowley. “You want to field that one?”