away?”
“Well, I’m not very good at judging distances,” she began but I jumped in.
“Mom, for heaven’s sake, you were back in Wardrobe; you said so yourself.” I looked at Rafe. “She didn’t see the shooting, but I did,” I said quickly. “I saw the whole thing. I was sitting right next to Maisie and Hank Watson when it happened. It took place while they were filming, you know. So at least there’s a record of it.”
Rafe nodded. “We’ve already requisitioned all the dailies to be turned in to us.” The dailies are the raw footage that’s shot every day, before any editing is done. “Okay, let’s start over.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and locked eyes with me. “From the top.”
There was a coiled readiness in his posture and a watchful, alert look in his dark eyes. You could practically feel the tension rippling off him. He reminded me of a panther, ready to spring. I never could decide if that was because he was a cop or it was just part of his personality style.
“You said you were watching the filming, Maggie. Were you expecting the actor who was the shooter—” He paused, riffling through his notes.
“Jeff Walker,” Mom volunteered.
Rafe blinked at the interruption. “Jeff Walker. Were you expecting him to discharge a firearm?”
“Well, I suppose I was. It was written right in the stage directions. Jeff pulls out a gun. You can see it in Maisie’s copy of the script.” Rafe leaned back to make a note.
“Had you seen the gun prior to the actor drawing it and firing it?”
“No, never. I think he had it tucked into the waistband of his slacks.”
He glanced at Mom. “Did you see the gun? Anywhere on the set before the shooting?”
She shook her head. “I never go near the props. They keep them locked up, you know; they don’t want anyone tampering with them.” She put her hand to her mouth, her blue eyes wide with shock. “Ohmigod, is that what happened? Someone tampered with the prop gun? But how could that be? They don’t even shoot bullets.”
“That’s what we’re investigating,” Rafe said. “We’re sending it to ballistics for analysis.”
“Lola, I need to know something. What was your relationship with the deceased?”
“My relationship with her was complicated,” she said primly. I nearly giggled. Complicated? Think of a mongoose and a snake . “We go back a long way,” she admitted. “But I suppose that’s true of everyone on the set. Hank tends to use the same actors over and over, so most of us had worked with Adriana in the past.”
“Interesting.” Rafe made a note. I tried to lean over to read it, but he was too fast for me, and quickly moved the notebook out of my line of vision.
“Maggie? How about you?”
“I just met her for the first time today. No, wait,” I corrected myself. “That’s not quite true. Adriana said she remembered meeting me in Hollywood. Years ago.”
“But you had no real relationship with her? No reason to dislike her?”
I hesitated. Everyone disliked Adriana. “I didn’t have any feelings toward her, one way or the other.”
We answered all the standard questions for the next few minutes, and when Rafe realized we really didn’t have anything valuable to contribute, he let us go. I bounded out of the trailer, eager to get back to WYME, and nearly collided with a dead ringer for Silvio Dante, the character Steven Van Zandt plays on The Sopranos . He was wearing a pinstripe suit, his hair was styled in a heavily lacquered pompadour, and he sported a pinkie ring. I almost hit him with the trailer door, but he brushed aside my apology.
“Don’t worry about it, doll.” He eyed me up and down in what I always think of as the “Manhattan once-over.” I must have passed the test, because he suddenly bared his teeth in a smile. “You have a nice day.”
I nodded and hurried to my car, wondering how a Mafia extra would fit into the Death Watch script. I’d have to ask
“Well, I’m not very good at judging distances,” she began but I jumped in.
“Mom, for heaven’s sake, you were back in Wardrobe; you said so yourself.” I looked at Rafe. “She didn’t see the shooting, but I did,” I said quickly. “I saw the whole thing. I was sitting right next to Maisie and Hank Watson when it happened. It took place while they were filming, you know. So at least there’s a record of it.”
Rafe nodded. “We’ve already requisitioned all the dailies to be turned in to us.” The dailies are the raw footage that’s shot every day, before any editing is done. “Okay, let’s start over.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and locked eyes with me. “From the top.”
There was a coiled readiness in his posture and a watchful, alert look in his dark eyes. You could practically feel the tension rippling off him. He reminded me of a panther, ready to spring. I never could decide if that was because he was a cop or it was just part of his personality style.
“You said you were watching the filming, Maggie. Were you expecting the actor who was the shooter—” He paused, riffling through his notes.
“Jeff Walker,” Mom volunteered.
Rafe blinked at the interruption. “Jeff Walker. Were you expecting him to discharge a firearm?”
“Well, I suppose I was. It was written right in the stage directions. Jeff pulls out a gun. You can see it in Maisie’s copy of the script.” Rafe leaned back to make a note.
“Had you seen the gun prior to the actor drawing it and firing it?”
“No, never. I think he had it tucked into the waistband of his slacks.”
He glanced at Mom. “Did you see the gun? Anywhere on the set before the shooting?”
She shook her head. “I never go near the props. They keep them locked up, you know; they don’t want anyone tampering with them.” She put her hand to her mouth, her blue eyes wide with shock. “Ohmigod, is that what happened? Someone tampered with the prop gun? But how could that be? They don’t even shoot bullets.”
“That’s what we’re investigating,” Rafe said. “We’re sending it to ballistics for analysis.”
“Lola, I need to know something. What was your relationship with the deceased?”
“My relationship with her was complicated,” she said primly. I nearly giggled. Complicated? Think of a mongoose and a snake . “We go back a long way,” she admitted. “But I suppose that’s true of everyone on the set. Hank tends to use the same actors over and over, so most of us had worked with Adriana in the past.”
“Interesting.” Rafe made a note. I tried to lean over to read it, but he was too fast for me, and quickly moved the notebook out of my line of vision.
“Maggie? How about you?”
“I just met her for the first time today. No, wait,” I corrected myself. “That’s not quite true. Adriana said she remembered meeting me in Hollywood. Years ago.”
“But you had no real relationship with her? No reason to dislike her?”
I hesitated. Everyone disliked Adriana. “I didn’t have any feelings toward her, one way or the other.”
We answered all the standard questions for the next few minutes, and when Rafe realized we really didn’t have anything valuable to contribute, he let us go. I bounded out of the trailer, eager to get back to WYME, and nearly collided with a dead ringer for Silvio Dante, the character Steven Van Zandt plays on The Sopranos . He was wearing a pinstripe suit, his hair was styled in a heavily lacquered pompadour, and he sported a pinkie ring. I almost hit him with the trailer door, but he brushed aside my apology.
“Don’t worry about it, doll.” He eyed me up and down in what I always think of as the “Manhattan once-over.” I must have passed the test, because he suddenly bared his teeth in a smile. “You have a nice day.”
I nodded and hurried to my car, wondering how a Mafia extra would fit into the Death Watch script. I’d have to ask
Similar Books
