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Authors: Stuart Woods
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junkie.”
“Right,” Stone said, finding the right page.
“We’re not going strictly in chronological order; I don’t want you to have to shoot your opening statement to the jury first time out of the stall. We’ll get you warmed up with a rehearsal, then your little scene, then we’ll shoot Vance’s cross-examination, then we’ll get reaction shots from both of you. You’ll have to be on the set most of the day, because you can be seen in backgrounds.”
Stone was introduced to the actor playing his second chair, then rehearsals began. Stone learned to stop on a mark and ignore the camera, then they began shooting. It was more difficult than he had imagined it would be, but he got it done.
He had a sandwich in his RV dressing room at lunch; his suit was pressed, and Sally Dunn came and redid his makeup. “I hear it’s going well,” she said.
After lunch, Vance Calder did his scenes, then Stone sat and did reaction shots while Vance read his lines off-camera, then Stone read while Vance reacted. By the end of the day they had finished five pages of script, about five minutes on film, which Stone was told was a good day. When shooting was done, he removed his own makeup, showered, and surrendered his new suit to wardrobe, which would press and, if necessary, clean it overnight. By the time he arrived back at the Bel-Air, he was exhausted.
He opened the door to his room and found two little envelopes on the floor containing his day’s messages. The first was from Bill Eggers.
“So how’s the movie star?”
“Exhausted. You wouldn’t believe how hard actors work.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What’s up?”
“I made a few calls about Onofrio Ippolito.”
“What did you find out?”
“It was really weird; nobody would say anything about him, good or bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, every time I asked somebody about Ippolito he’d say, ‘Oh, he’s a banker, I think,’ and then he’d get Alzheimer’s. And these are people who should know stuff about him, people who know stuff about everybody. ”
“So they’re protecting him?”
“More likely, they’re scared shitless of him.”
“Maybe I should have been nicer to him at dinner.”
“I hope you didn’t spill anything on him.”
“I hope so, too.”
“It worries me, Stone. I’ve never run into anything quite like this before. Usually I can find out anything about anybody with three or four calls.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be worried about. I sat next to him at dinner, and that’s it. There’s no reason why I should have any further contact with him.”
“I’d keep it that way, if I were you.”
“I’ll try; thanks for your help.” Stone said goodbye and hung up.
He opened the second little envelope and the message froze him in his tracks.
SORRY I MISSED YOU, it read. I’LL TRY LATER, IF I CAN. It was signed “A.”
Chapter 11
S tone immediately called the hotel operator. “I got a message signed ‘A.,’” he said. “What time did the call come in?”
“It should be written on the message, Mr. Barrington,” the woman replied.
“Oh, yes; less than half an hour ago.”
“I’m double-checking…yes, that’s right.”
“She didn’t leave a number?”
“No, sir, just said she’d try and call later.”
“Do you have caller ID on your phone system?”
“Yes, sir, but we rarely use it.”
“Would you please make a note that on all the calls I receive to make a note of the caller ID number?”
“All right, I’ll do that; and I’ll let the other shifts know.”
“Thank you.” Stone hung up. Vance had been right; getting his name into the trade papers had produced results. If only he’d been at home when she called. He fixed himself a drink from the bar, switched on the televisionnews, and watched it blankly, absorbing none of it. When his glass was empty, he got into the shower and stood under the very hot water, letting his muscles relax. Then, as he turned off the water,
“Right,” Stone said, finding the right page.
“We’re not going strictly in chronological order; I don’t want you to have to shoot your opening statement to the jury first time out of the stall. We’ll get you warmed up with a rehearsal, then your little scene, then we’ll shoot Vance’s cross-examination, then we’ll get reaction shots from both of you. You’ll have to be on the set most of the day, because you can be seen in backgrounds.”
Stone was introduced to the actor playing his second chair, then rehearsals began. Stone learned to stop on a mark and ignore the camera, then they began shooting. It was more difficult than he had imagined it would be, but he got it done.
He had a sandwich in his RV dressing room at lunch; his suit was pressed, and Sally Dunn came and redid his makeup. “I hear it’s going well,” she said.
After lunch, Vance Calder did his scenes, then Stone sat and did reaction shots while Vance read his lines off-camera, then Stone read while Vance reacted. By the end of the day they had finished five pages of script, about five minutes on film, which Stone was told was a good day. When shooting was done, he removed his own makeup, showered, and surrendered his new suit to wardrobe, which would press and, if necessary, clean it overnight. By the time he arrived back at the Bel-Air, he was exhausted.
He opened the door to his room and found two little envelopes on the floor containing his day’s messages. The first was from Bill Eggers.
“So how’s the movie star?”
“Exhausted. You wouldn’t believe how hard actors work.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What’s up?”
“I made a few calls about Onofrio Ippolito.”
“What did you find out?”
“It was really weird; nobody would say anything about him, good or bad.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, every time I asked somebody about Ippolito he’d say, ‘Oh, he’s a banker, I think,’ and then he’d get Alzheimer’s. And these are people who should know stuff about him, people who know stuff about everybody. ”
“So they’re protecting him?”
“More likely, they’re scared shitless of him.”
“Maybe I should have been nicer to him at dinner.”
“I hope you didn’t spill anything on him.”
“I hope so, too.”
“It worries me, Stone. I’ve never run into anything quite like this before. Usually I can find out anything about anybody with three or four calls.”
“Well, there’s nothing to be worried about. I sat next to him at dinner, and that’s it. There’s no reason why I should have any further contact with him.”
“I’d keep it that way, if I were you.”
“I’ll try; thanks for your help.” Stone said goodbye and hung up.
He opened the second little envelope and the message froze him in his tracks.
SORRY I MISSED YOU, it read. I’LL TRY LATER, IF I CAN. It was signed “A.”
Chapter 11
S tone immediately called the hotel operator. “I got a message signed ‘A.,’” he said. “What time did the call come in?”
“It should be written on the message, Mr. Barrington,” the woman replied.
“Oh, yes; less than half an hour ago.”
“I’m double-checking…yes, that’s right.”
“She didn’t leave a number?”
“No, sir, just said she’d try and call later.”
“Do you have caller ID on your phone system?”
“Yes, sir, but we rarely use it.”
“Would you please make a note that on all the calls I receive to make a note of the caller ID number?”
“All right, I’ll do that; and I’ll let the other shifts know.”
“Thank you.” Stone hung up. Vance had been right; getting his name into the trade papers had produced results. If only he’d been at home when she called. He fixed himself a drink from the bar, switched on the televisionnews, and watched it blankly, absorbing none of it. When his glass was empty, he got into the shower and stood under the very hot water, letting his muscles relax. Then, as he turned off the water,
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