A Merry Christmas Wedding Mystery, Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery #4 (Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Series)

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “That’s true. After that Swanderling disaster, she said ‘there sure are a lot of catastrophes around here’ or something like that. What if this is more about stopping or delaying the film than it is about Brigit?”

  “Are there more catastrophes than usual? I doubt leading ladies go missing on a regular basis, but costume problems and prop failures must be a regular part of filming-making. Karl was furious about the trouble with his puppets. I could hear him ranting an hour later, even though Nelson said it wasn’t as bad as Karl made it out to be. His behavior is strange enough to make him a suspicious character of some kind. I can’t imagine he’d sacrifice his beloved creations to disrupt the film schedule, though, or to get even for being Max’s second choice.”

  “Yes, setbacks during filming happen. Mara’s new to the business. Maybe she’s making more than she ought to be of the problems this week with props, missing costumes, paint spills on the set, and things like that. Max and Nelson can tell you if that’s an unusual number of problems and how much it’s cost them in the way of delays.”

  “Who stands to benefit if The Lonely Swan Prince is delayed or never gets released?” Jack asked.

  “Not everyone loves Max, as you can imagine. I’m sure he has rivals in the movie business who don’t want to go up against a Marvelous Marley World summer blockbuster. Would they resort to having some thug snatch his leading lady? Who knows? I just thought it might be worth considering yet another motive.”

  “Thanks! You’re always a great resource when it comes to helping me understand the ins and outs of Marvelous Marley World pursuits.” Jack leaned over and gave me an appreciative kiss. I showed him my appreciation in return. “Tomorrow, I’ll ask Max and Nelson a few more questions.”

  “How about dessert?” I asked. “We do have a few wedding details to discuss if you have time before heading back to work.” I stood up and picked up my dinner dishes. Jack stood, too. He took those dishes from my hands and put them back down on the table and embraced me.

  “I don’t know which I’m looking forward to more. One of your desserts or the prospect of making a few more decisions about our wedding.” I laughed. He nuzzled my neck and gave me goose bumps. I never realized I was so ticklish until Jack entered my life. I giggled again.

  “You are a sweet-talker,” I said almost breathlessly. “What kind of man looks forward to talking about boutonnieres and bow ties?”

  “The kind of guy who dreams of never leaving you alone again.” The kisses that followed had visions of Vegas and Elvis impersonators dancing in my head like the proverbial Christmas sugar plum! If the lovely Christiana hadn’t disappeared today, I might have argued that we jump on the next plane to Vegas or Reno and make both our dreams come true.

  After Jack left, I went through my usual routine. I was wound up. It could have been the chocolate in that sorbet, that close encounter with Jack, or the events of the day. With two sets of steely blue eyes staring at me expectantly, what choice did I have but to go on with my routine? Siamese cats are strict taskmasters. Of course, they didn’t like it any better when my restlessness had me up out of bed again.

  “Just one more cup of tea, babies, okay?” Ella was the first to cave in. The soft little bundle of fur was even faster than Miles at sensing my distress. She climbed into my lap, while I wiggled into my slippers. Gazing up at me, she stretched out a little paw to pat my face. Until I owned cats, I never would have believed they do things like that. I picked her up and gave her a little smooch. When I put her down on the bed beside me, Miles was there. He can be stealthy when he wants to be. “How about an extra treat, you two?” I asked as though they could understand me. Say no more. Only one thing better than adhering to schedule—extra treats.

  When I sat down at the bar in the kitchen with my tea, I opened the laptop I had used to record decisions about our wedding. I created a spreadsheet with a list of suspects. Then I envisioned getting them all in the same room and tried to imagine asking them pointed questions as if I were Poirot in one of those old whodunits. I considered motives for each of them, too. And alibis—at least the ones I could figure out. For the right amount of money, however, just about anyone could have hired a big, burly guy to grab Brigit. Being able to account for their whereabouts at the time she went missing didn’t necessarily take anyone off the hook.

  In a few minutes, either the task or the tea pushed me to the point that sleep sounded like a blessing. There were so many people and motives, I hoped Jack’s team of CSIs and investigators could dig up evidence that could sort out this mess.

  Carol and Mara were both still digging. My executive assistant has a good head for numbers. She was going to go back through information about the big names involved in the movie to see if any of them were having financial troubles that might make ransom from kidnapping an appealing motive. Not just the film’s stars, but Brigit’s agent, and Nelson, the film’s director. I would even have added Mara to that list, but she got onto the computer and voluntarily pulled up a copy of her contract and her credit report. She doesn’t make much money as a Production Assistant, but her credit was good, and she even has a few bucks in savings.

  Our snooping was no formal forensic accounting effort, but Carol was going to try to get information about funding for the film, too. Maybe an investor was in financial trouble that a ransom could solve. A review of the insurance coverage for the film and its key players might also provide some answers about the financial consequences of accidents and other problems on the set. Like a small herd of cats on the loose, I thought, flashing on that runaway cat catastrophe.

  “What happened to that cat?” I muttered, as I remembered Marmalade barreling into Brigit’s dressing room. Two heads popped up when I said the word “cat.”

  “I’m not talking about you!” I laughed at the almost identical inquisitive expressions on their little faces. “Haven’t you two heard that adage about curiosity killing cats? I suppose I should take it into consideration more, too, shouldn’t I? Bedtime! Let’s hope all of our questions get answered tomorrow, one way or another.”

  I should have paid attention to that other adage: Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.

  11 Double Trouble

  Watching video clips before they’re edited and assembled is a bit frustrating. Just when you get into it, the director yells “cut,” or the scene ends. No coffee guy, either. Still, I remained as focused as I could as a new version of the same scene started. At this point in the film, the Prince has taken on the identity of a commoner. Dejected and alone, he’s befriended by the lovely shop girl, Christiana, who begs her father to put him to work in his toy shop. Before you know it, she’s besotted by the sad, sweet man! Of course, at that point, she bursts into song. What self-respecting lead in a Marvelous Marley World feature film wouldn’t?

  “I hear a waltz…don’t you?” Christiana sings out. Our prince-in-disguise, not quite so sure, says nothing. Christiana, portrayed beautifully by our missing actress, Brigit, swings into motion. As she picks up her song and swirls about on the toy shop floor, it’s suddenly transformed into a fantasy ballroom.

  “I hear a waltz. I do.”

  “A waltz that is meant for two.”

  “A tune so enchanting it sets your heart dancing, and your feet follow too.”

  “I hear a waltz, don’t you?” The fascinated young man watching her suddenly smiles and replies when she asks that question again.

  “I do.”

  He sweeps her up in his arms and joins her in song and dance. It seemed perfect until Nelson saw something he didn’t like and hollered, “Cut!”

  About thirty seconds before he said cut, I had seen something, too. A reflection in the wall of mirrors. Could that be what the sharp-eyed director had spotted that made him kill that take? I couldn’t ask him because he had left half an hour ago after watching the footage shot the day before.

  “Can you stop the video feed for a second, please? Back it up, slowly, and hit
pause when I give the word, okay?”

  “Sure. Just say STOP!”

  “STOP!” I yelled, louder than I needed to do, I’m sure. I was stunned at what I saw. It was Brigit. I blinked a couple of times, involuntarily. That couldn’t possibly be the case, though, since Brigit dolled up as the shop girl, was dancing with Brad, in costume as the fake down-on-his-luck townsman. “Can you see that image reflected in the mirrors on the ballroom wall?” I asked the technician.

  “I sure can.”

  “Is that a trick of the camera or something?”

  “No. That’s Brigit’s stand-in. She should be off-camera, but it looks as though she lost track of where she was supposed to be. We can try to edit it out, but Nelson may have to reshoot it if he hasn’t already done that.”

  “Can you mark the video footage there, please?”

  “Sure. Got it!”

  “Okay, can you pick up and run the film past that point where Nelson hollered cut?”

  “Will do!”

  I had watched enough of these video clips, by now, to know that the camera crew didn’t immediately shut off the cameras when Nelson hollered cut. It was true in this case. As the cameras kept running for a few seconds longer, I could see Brad and Brigit step off the set. The person I now knew was Brigit’s stand-in stepped into camera range. For a split second, as Brad walked by, something passed between them. Their hands touched briefly. Then the images shifted to a new scene entirely.

  “That’s good, Donnie. I need to share this clip, is there an easy way to do that?”

  “Do you want me to make a copy of the scene for you and put it on a jump drive or email it to you as an attachment?”

  “That would be fantastic if you email the file to me. Run it all the way to the end, please. What’s her name, by the way?” I asked.

  “Brigit’s stand-in, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tamara McCauley or McCarthy—something like that. Ask Nelson when you see him. He knows. Too well, I’m sure. Brigit’s double is almost as much trouble as the real deal.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. Prima Donna stuff, I presume, since that’s what Nelson calls Brigit when he complains about her. The lookalikes weren’t fond of each other, but he’s never said anything about hair-pulling or anything like that. Okay, sent it. Do you want to continue?”

  “Thanks, Donnie, but I need to get going,” I said.

  There might have been more in the film clips I hadn’t yet seen. I felt the need to get this snippet of film to Jack right away. There had been something intimate and conspiratorial about that moment shared by Brad and Tamara. Another backstage love affair, perhaps. Had animosity between Tamara and the missing film star become a motive for kidnapping?

  “Double trouble,” I said before stopping abruptly in the hallway outside the viewing room. In an “aha” moment, I recalled the glimpse I caught the day before of a young woman I had mistaken for Brigit. That must have been Tamara. Where was she when Brigit disappeared a short time later?

  Jack and I planned to meet at my office for lunch. Lunch together had become a regular event, if we could swing it with our work schedules. Our dinners, too. Despite my uneasiness about Brigit’s disappearance, I smiled at the prospect of seeing Jack. Would it always feel as wonderful as it did now? I wondered.

  The urge to call Jack suddenly overtook me. I stepped into a lounge area on the first floor of the Animation Building for privacy. Maybe it was my desire to hear his voice, but I also felt the need to tell him about Brigit’s double and her apparent connection to Brad. Jack’s team of investigators were taking formal statements from all the key players who were on the set yesterday. Brigit’s double must already be in that group to be interviewed. It couldn’t hurt to have another bit of information when it was her turn.

  “Hey, Sweetheart,” Jack said in his best imitation of Bogart’s private eye voice.

  “Hey, Bogie,” I responded. “How’s it going?”

  “Everyone we can spare is working on this at top speed. I was in early to get an update from the CSIs. That scene wasn’t staged. They found half a dozen sets of prints, including yours, by the way, in Brigit’s dressing room.”

  “That’s terrific. My prints are on file. Am I back on your list of suspects?”

  “Nah, Doll, for the moment you’re in the clear.” He was using that hokey voice again, but he sounded tired. Worried, too. “Your prints are on file because of your security clearance with Marvelous Marley World. Max gave us access to those files, so we didn’t have to reprint him or you. Todd and the cast members have given us their prints to help us rule them out. That still leaves a few unidentified fingerprints.”

  “You sound exhausted, Jack. A late night and an early morning, huh?”

  “You bet. The CSIs have been all over the delivery truck. They found prints and blood on the steering wheel that match evidence found in Brigit’s room and the elevator on Soundstage 4. We’re running the prints against those in police and other public databases, but there’s no match so far. We haven’t finished printing all the members of the cast and crew yet. It’s a lot of people including all the extras, wardrobe, hair, and makeup artists and assistants. Not to mention grips, best boys, riggers, and other oddly-named workers. Even assistants have assistants around here.”

  “I hear you. Not that many were around when Brigit went missing, though, right?”

  “No, but it's taken time to figure out who was where when. We were hoping someone might have spotted that guy with the coffee cart, especially if he was hanging around on other days, so we’re doing our best to check with anyone who’s been on Soundstage 4 this entire week. We found one other person who saw him. She worked with a sketch artist, so we now have a picture to show around. I’d like you to check it out and see how well the image fits your memory of the man.”

  “I’ll do that when I join you for lunch. Did they find any new information about Brigit or her condition when they examined that coffee cart? Could you tell if she had been in it?”

  “No. There was a cart in that truck, but not the one you saw him pushing. It was a small one and didn’t have any of the dents or scratches we expected to find from that collision he must have had with the elevator.”

  “Where’s the one I saw?”

  “He may have dropped her off somewhere before ditching that truck. Maybe he delivered her in that cart or dumped that somewhere else.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes. We’re at that point where we’re flooded with evidence and none of it is much help. Frustrating, to say the least.”

  “I have an update for you. Maybe you’ve already interviewed Brigit’s stand-in, a Tamara somebody—McCauley, maybe. She’s a real look-alike if the camera’s not directly on her face.”

  “Yes, I see her on the list—McCauley is right. Is stand-in the same as an understudy? Does she get to take over the role if Brigit can’t finish the movie?”

  “That’s a perfect question to ask her. Nelson can give you the official job description, but it would be interesting to hear what she believes it is. Donnie, the guy who set up our videos for review this morning, claims Tamara’s had trouble on the set. He wasn’t specific, but maybe another version of the professional rivalry between Brigit and Gloria. From what Donnie said, Tamara may fancy herself to be a diva, even if others consider her a bit player.”

  “Okay, we’ll check out that angle.”

  “There’s one more angle to consider, too, Jack. That’s the reason I didn’t wait until lunch to fill you in. There’s an interesting interaction between Tamara and Brad caught on film. It struck me as odd for a guy that’s part of the hottest couple in Hollywood to be as chummy as he seems to be with Brigit’s double.”

  “Uh oh. Brad and Tamara are fooling around and got caught on camera?”

  “It’s nothing too obvious, and I doubt they knew they were on camera. Still, I picked up on it right away. More to the po
int, Tamara must be the woman I saw yesterday and mistook for Brigit. If I made that error, Gloria could have done that too. What if she thought Brad and Brigit were carrying on? That might give her a reason to want to get Brigit out of the way—maybe for good.”

  “A romantic triangle’s one of the oldest stories in the book when it comes to murder and mayhem. If Gloria ID’d the wrong woman as the ‘other woman,’ that would be a twist. Why not? After all, Brigit's disappearance is a Marvelous Marley World problem. Where else would a missing woman have a double?”

  “You’re not in Kansas anymore. That’s for sure.”

  “Okay, thanks for the heads up, Georgie. I’ll have someone locate Tamara right away, and ask her what’s up. I’m going to have another chat with Gloria and Brad, too.”

  “I have a copy of the film clip if you need it. I’m on my way to Soundstage 4 to meet with Imogene. Can you take a break for lunch in an hour or so?”

  “Why not? I need a break to clear my head. You do set my head to spinning, Georgie Shaw.”

  “I knew you’d be thrilled to have another suspect and motive to consider, but making your head spin, wow! Shall I add that to my legendary skills, Detective?”

  “By all means! It’s more than suspects and motives. Your sweet voice and quick wit set my mind down all sorts of paths that should be off limits during a police investigation.”

  “Surely you’re not suggesting I practice using a cranky voice and dim wit when I’m around you?”

  “Now you’re toying with me. You couldn’t do either if you practiced day and night. But I digress. Lunch needs to be quick. Is there a place nearby that’s up to your culinary standards?”

  “Let’s find out, why don’t we? Mara figured out where Brigit ordered her lunch. Let’s give the place a try.”

  “You didn’t trust my guys to do that?”

  “Sure, we were just being nosy. It wasn’t too hard, either. Vegan’s not a big draw, so there were only a couple of possibilities.”