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Director's Cut

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by Alton Gansky




  Director’s Cut

  Also by Alton Gansky

  The Madison Glenn Series

  The Incumbent

  Before Another Dies

  J. D. Stanton Mysteries

  Vanished

  A Ship Possessed

  Out of Time

  The Prodigy

  Dark Moon

  ZONDERVAN

  Director’s Cut

  Copyright © 2005 by Alton L. Gansky

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Zondervan.

  ePub Edition June 2009 ISBN: 0-310-86169-1

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530

  * * *

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gansky, Alton

  Director’s cut / Alton Gansky.

  p. cm.—(The Madison Glenn series; bk. 3)

  ISBN-13: 978-0-310-25936-7

  1. Women mayors—Fiction. 2. Chauffeurs—Crimes against—Fiction. 3. Motion picture industry—Fiction. 4. Political campaigns—Fiction. 5. California—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3557.A5195D565 2005

  813'.54—dc22

  2005013985

  * * *

  All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New American Standard Bible®, Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  * * *

  05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 / DCI/ 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Epilogue

  About The Publisher

  Share Your Thoughts

  Director’s Cut

  Chapter 1

  From my place in the shadows, I could see her radiate a glow that would cower Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, and every other historical beauty. She was trim, with hair so black it threatened to absorb every photon of light from the room; a face the color of cream hosted large, innocent eyes.

  Only the crimson flow of blood oozing through her fingers detracted from her beauty.

  My lungs paused as I watched her draw her hand from her chest, look at the thick cherry red fluid that covered her palm and dripped from between her fingers, then raise her eyes to the man who had pulled the trigger.

  She worked her mouth but no words came.

  A second later she collapsed.

  “Excellent,” a voice shouted. A man seated several feet in front of me rose and applauded. “Did that work for you, Catherine?”

  The beautiful young woman rose from the stage, holding out her red-tinted hand. A middle-aged woman scurried from behind the side curtains. She held a white towel in her hand and began cleaning the mess from the actress’s hand.

  “It worked fine, Mr. Young.” She glanced down at the red spot on her gown. “Did I get enough on me?”

  “You did it just right—and I’ve told you to call me Harold. We’re not student-teacher anymore. If anything, you’re teaching me.”

  I rose from my seat, uncertain if this was a good time to make my presence known, and walked down the aisle formed by long tables set in rows. Behind me were horseshoe-shaped booths and above them a balcony for other patrons of the Curtain Call, Santa Rita’s only dinner theater.

  “It’s hard to change old habits,” Catherine said. “You’re the one who got me into this crazy business.” Her eyes shifted to me. “Maddy! You’re back.”

  I smiled as Catherine made eye contact. I hadn’t seen her since she graduated high school and moved off to a college in New York. She had grown another inch and filled out where women fill out. As a teenager, she had been slow to develop physically but nature had made up for lost time.

  Catherine pulled away from the woman with the towel and trotted down the stage steps to the main floor. She held out her arms to me, then stopped midstep. She looked at her gown again, which still oozed with stage blood.

  I closed the gap between us, placed my hands on her shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Much too long.” Her smile dazzled even in the dim light of the theater.

  “Can I have the houselights, please?” Young bellowed.

  Overhead lights swept away the shadows that filled the small theater. “Okay, everyone, that’s it for today. Good work. One more dress rehearsal tomorrow. Dinner will be on me. Strike the set and set up for act one.”

  The handful of actors moved from the platform and stagehands took their places.

  “Mr. Young—I mean Harold—this is my cousin Maddy. She’s the mayor. Her name is Madison Glenn. Isn’t that a great name? Maddy, this is Harold Young. He teaches drama at the high school, and he’s directing this play.”

  The director returned his attention to us. He was stocky with a bald dome, thick black eyelashes, and a round head. His eyes traced my face and form, then smiled through thin lips. I judged him to be well north of fifty. Extending his hand, he said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Mayor. I voted for you and plan to vote for you for congress.”

  “Thank you. May your tribe increase.” I shook his hand.

  “I see beauty runs in the family.” His smile broadened and he gave my hand a squeeze. I didn’t like it.

  “Thank you.” I extricated my hand. “Catherine got most of the beauty genes.”

  I felt conspicuous next to her. I try not to compare myself to others, especially other women. Women who worry to extremes about their appearance annoy me, probably because I battle the same disease. Standing next to Catherine made me feel old and just a few years removed from qualifying for senior citizen discounts at restaurants. I’m thirty-nine, Catherine is twenty-five; my dark brown hair hangs to my shoulders and goes limp if it catches sight of a cloud, my cousin’s black hair shines like obsidian and falls in graceful curls several inches beyond her shoulders. Our skin displayed the same cream color all the women in our family own, but mine had seen a decade and a half more of life. I stood five foot six; Catherine was two inches taller.

  “You’re being modest, Mayor,
” Young said. “Have you ever thought of acting as a career?”

  That made me laugh. “I’m a politician. Some would say that I am already in the business.”

  “Touché.”

  “When did you get back?” Catherine asked. She looked at Young and explained, “Maddy was out of town when I arrived.”

  “About half an hour ago,” I said. “I was in Sacramento for the governor’s annual report to California mayors.”

  “Sounds exciting,” Young said.

  “If you like talking about taxes, crime, population shifts, and faltering budgets, then it’s a hoot. Otherwise, it would put a lifetime insomniac into a coma. Government business is an acquired taste.”

  “You’re coming by to see the house, aren’t you?” Catherine said. “Or do you have to go to the office?”

  “If I go to the office now, I’ll be gang tackled by a week’s worth of postponed work. I think I’ll save that joy for tomorrow.”

  “Great, let me change and then we can go.” She turned, then stopped. “Did you drive?”

  “Yes. I left my car at the airport and drove straight here after I landed.”

  She frowned. “Maybe I should call Ed.”

  “Ed?”

  “The studio provided a limo. Ed Lowe is the chauffeur.” My face must have betrayed my amusement. “It’s not my limo. The studio is in the final script revisions for my next movie. I have to go into Hollywood this week for a reading. They don’t want me driving on the LA freeways. This way they know I’ll be safe and on time.”

  “I can follow,” I said.

  “If you don’t mind driving, I’ll call Ed and tell him not to come. I want to spend as much time with you as I can. Taking two cars doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Great. I’ll make the call and change. Harold will entertain you while I’m gone.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” he said.

  Catherine trotted up the steps to the stage, then disappeared behind the stage right curtains.

  “She’s a bundle of energy, isn’t she?” Young said.

  “I haven’t seen her for years, but I remember her having enough energy to power the neighborhood.”

  “Let’s have a seat while we wait.” He walked to the nearest table and pulled a chair out for me, then did the same for himself. He waited until I sat before lowering himself into the armless chair. He leaned an elbow on the table.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” I admitted. “Pulling a play like this together with so little practice.”

  “Little practice? We’ve been working on this for more than a month.”

  That confused me. “I understood Catherine didn’t arrive until the day before yesterday.”

  “That’s right. Her first practice was Monday . . . Ah, I see.” He smiled and gave a knowing nod. “It’s not uncommon for the stars of a show to arrive just in time for the last few rehearsals. Usually, they’ve played the part before or they study their lines on their own. Then they show up to run through their paces, fine-tune their performance to the director’s specifications, and learn their blocking.”

  “Isn’t it hard to practice without the star of the show?”

  “No, not really.” He shifted in his seat. “We use stand-ins during the early rehearsals. The stand-ins become the understudies. These days, the quality actors belong to unions or guilds and smalltime operations like this one can’t afford to pay what it costs to tie up a name actor for several weeks.”

  “So, this is Catherine’s second day on the job?”

  “We’re lucky to get her at all. Her last movie has made her a star. Everyone who’s anyone in showbiz wants her for something. Our show is going to run for six weeks but we only get her for three, then she has to fly off to location for her next movie.”

  “That’s where the understudy comes in.”

  “Right. The dinner theater will run the show for six weeks, then a new show comes in.”

  “Are you directing that one too?”

  He looked embarrassed. “No. Neena lets me do one show a year. The rest of my time is spent teaching high school drama.”

  “Neena . . . ?”

  “Neena Lasko. She owns the Curtain Call dinner theater. I take it you’ve never met.”

  “No. Actually,” I said, “this is my first time here.”

  “They do good work and serve up a great meal. You owe it to yourself to come by now and again. I see every one of their shows and I haven’t been disappointed yet.” He paused, then said, “Where are my manners? Can I get you some coffee or a soda?”

  I declined.

  He studied me for a moment. “You must be very proud to have Catherine as a cousin. There aren’t many actresses who skyrocket to fame like she did.”

  “I am proud, but as I said, I haven’t seen her in years. Catherine is the youngest daughter of my father’s sister. They used to live in Santa Rita, but after Catherine moved off to college, they took an early retirement and relocated to Boise, Idaho.”

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Catherine had started speaking before she reached our table. She was wearing a dark blue T-shirt with the words “Way Off Broadway” stenciled on the front, blue jeans, and orange canvas shoes. She had pulled her hair into a ponytail. The stage makeup was gone and hadn’t been replaced. She looked several years younger, if that was possible.

  “That was quick,” I said and stood.

  “Actors learn to change quickly,” she said, then paused. “I’m not sure what to do. I tried to get hold of Ed, but he’s not answering his cell phone.”

  “Do you know where he went after he dropped you off?” I asked.

  “He said he was going to get the limo washed, then go back to my house to wait for my call. This is so unlike him. He was my driver during the filming of my first movie and he was always on time and available.”

  “Maybe his cell phone died,” Young said. “It happens to me all the time.”

  “I suppose,” Catherine said, “but he’s not answering the house phone either.”

  “Well,” I said, “we can wait for him to show up or go on to your house. It’s your call.”

  Catherine thought for a moment as if weighing a momentous decision. “Let’s go. I’ll try his cell phone again once we’re on the road.”

  “If he shows up here,” Young said, “I’ll tell him you two flew the coop.”

  We thanked him and I led the way to the door.

  With me was the nation’s newest star.

  Chapter 2

  Catherine’s home was in the north part of the city, just this side of Santa Barbara. It would be a lovely drive with the cobalt blue ocean to our left, green hills to our right, and an azure sky above lit by a golden sun. There would also be the many colors of cars and trucks packed on a freeway designed to hold half the contents it bore each day during rush hour. My silver Lincoln Aviator would add to the mix. There was nothing I could do about that.

  As mayor, I receive calls, letters, and email almost daily, complaining about the growing traffic problem. People want me to fix it, and I can’t blame them. I have a form letter I send to each one, thanking them for their interest in our city and reminding them I am the mayor, not the governor. I can complain, make requests for freeway improvement, but as long as Santa Rita has the Los Angeles basin to the south and Santa Barbara to the north there is going to be traffic and it is going to get worse each year.

  “I had forgotten how pretty it is here.” Catherine sat in the passenger seat and gazed out the window. Under the direct rays of the sun and without the mask of makeup we women usually wear, I could see the sparkle in her eye and the beginnings of crow’s-feet. She was just twenty-five but the pressures of living on her own and doing whatever overnight successes do had begun to place the patina of age on her youthful face. “I missed the ocean.”

  “They have an ocean on the East Coast.” I shifted lanes to pull around an eighteen-wheeler that was blocking m
y view of the traffic ahead. At the blistering thirty miles an hour we were traveling, it would take me awhile to pull past the truck.

  “It’s not the same. Besides, I didn’t get out of the city much. I worked a couple of plays before signing on to the movie. I was pretty busy.”

  “Busy isn’t bad,” I said. “It beats the alternative.”

  “True.” She sighed and laid her head back on the seat. She seemed drained.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She kept her eyes closed but smiled. “Couldn’t be better. The last few months have been a whirlwind. My agent told me not to take this play. He said it was too much strain to move into a new house, rehearse for a play, and study a script for my next movie.” She raised her head again and blinked a couple of times. “He’s right, of course, but I wanted to do the play anyway.”

  “Why?” I pressed the brake pedal as the traffic continued to coagulate in front of us. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. It’s not every day I get to hang out with the rich and famous.”

  She laughed lightly. “I was just thinking how proud I felt about being related to the mayor.”

  That made me laugh. “I’ve been in city government for over a decade and mayor for three years, and most people who live in the city couldn’t pick me out in a police lineup. Local politics is not the way to become famous. Of course, that was never my goal.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught her staring at me. “I’ll bet that will all change when you become Congresswoman Maddy Glenn. How’s that going?”

  “The campaign?” I glanced at her. “Wait a second, you didn’t answer my question. Are you trying to turn the conversation around to me?”

  She shifted in her seat and repositioned the seat belt. “Sorry, I’ve developed the habit of diverting attention from myself.”

  “Why would you do that? I thought attention was one of the benefits of being a star.”

  “Yeah, so did I.”

  She looked uncomfortable, and I wondered if I had just crossed the line. I chastised myself. I tend to form opinions quickly and swerve past small talk. Over the years I had annoyed more people than I could count.

 

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