Murder on the Movie Set

by Sandi Scott

  She was tempted to get back together with him, especially at times when the power went out due to a storm or when the kids had news even though they were all grown and managing their own lives.

  “I think Stan’s mountain climbing days are over. Besides, Chicago PD keeps him pretty busy. He’s valuable there and that’s job security with a nice pension. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that second mortgage over and done?”

  “Why Aleta, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were suggesting I get back together with Stan. I love him. I never stopped, but I’m not sure I like him.”

  “What’s not to like? He’s smart, funny, good looking. Plus, he adores you.”

  “Yes, but he’s just one of many, Aleta.” Georgie preened herself a little. “I can’t help how desirable I am.”

  “Right,” her twin scoffed.

  “But rather than break so many hearts I will leave them all on tenterhooks and never commit to any. Let them go to their graves thinking they were the one.”

  “You’ve been watching the Hallmark Channel again, haven’t you?” Aleta said over her shoulder while shutting the dishwasher.

  “I can’t help it. In the fall the stories are so cute.”

  “Maybe we should concentrate on this situation at hand?”

  "Yes, Aleta, you're right. A possible murder is much more important than the Hallmark Channel."

  Chapter 7

  Back at her own bungalow home next door to Aleta, Georgie realized her house had fallen into disarray without her realizing it.

  “Bodhi?” She looked down at the Pug that sat nobly at her feet. “Did you let elves in to mess up our house while I was out?” The dog tilted his head to the right. “We didn’t leave it this messy, did we?”

  There were dirty dishes in the sink. The laundry basket was full. Dog hair, also known as Bodhi's fibers of happiness and sunshine, was collecting happily in the corners of the hardwood floors. Then, Georgie realized her studio was a real mess, not just the organized chaos she usually preferred.

  “We can’t work in this kind of environment, Bodhi. Time to get organized.”

  By the time the last of the household chores was done the sun had long ago dipped below the horizon and the temperature outside had dropped, making Bodhi quickly do his business before snuggling in for the night. Georgie let out a long, tired sigh of satisfaction.

  "This is much better." She inhaled the sweet smell of a vanilla candle on her kitchen table that had been burning while she cleaned. In her freezer was a petite container of Jules Gourmet Cherry Cheesecake Ice Cream. While she had been cleaning she wondered about Jason Hobbs’ death—cardiac arrest. A fairly young, healthy-looking man, who was wealthy enough to produce movies has a heart attack while in his trailer. What was he doing in there? Had anyone been in there with him before he died? When she and everyone else heard the scream the trailer door was open and he was already on his way to the big movie studio in the sky, or maybe he was taking an escalator down to the other place. He didn't sound like a very good person.

  “Stan didn’t have a lot to say. He was pretty sure it was an open and shut case.” She sat down on her couch with her laptop and ice cream. The idea of scanning her laptop without a treat seemed as dangerous to Georgie as driving while intoxicated. Cracking open the ice cream and taking a big scoop with one hand, she opened her laptop computer with the other. Bodhi sat next to her patiently willing for her to let him lick the spoon. So far, his Jedi mind tricks were not working.

  "What do you think, Bodhi? I'm willing to put my chips on the square marked poisons." Georgie spooned a heap of ice cream into her mouth and typed a few random words into her search engine. A simple list of common, untraceable poisons that could cause a heart attack came up on her screen and Georgie quickly wrote them down. It wasn't a very long list. The usual suspects came up like arsenic or an overdose of potassium, with even the more unusual oleander joining her list.

  "I wonder if Stan asked the coroner to check for poisons?" She scratched Bodhi behind his ears and let him lick her spoon after she had finished her frozen treat. "I think we should request a second visit to the set, don't you?" Bodhi's eyes were big and wide as his long pink tongue licked every centimeter of the spoon.

  The next morning, she was dressed and at her sister’s front door bright and early, eager to get back to the film set.

  “What are you talking about? Why would you want to go back to the movie set?” Aleta yawned and scratched her head as she stepped aside to let Bodhi and his mistress into her house. “I don’t think they’re going to let you just waltz in and start asking questions.”

  “Sure, they will,” Georgie was confident, “especially if we are there as extras just like everyone else.”

  “Extras?”

  “Yeah. I saw some extras roaming around while we were there.”

  “Do you even know what an extra is?” Aleta was incredulous.

  “Duh.” Georgie stared at her sister. “They are extra people. Sheesh. Now get dressed. I’m calling Max to tell him we are on our way.”

  “Wait, he’s the guy you told I had two extra toes.”

  “Yup.”

  “What am I going to say when he wants to see my feet?”

  "We'll figure something out on the way." Georgie waved her hand like she was shooing a fly.

  "You are crazy, Georgie."

  “Get dressed. Daylight’s burning.”

  Georgie had gone to Aleta’s closet while her sister showered and pulled out a purple sweater with black slacks and a turquoise scarf with a huge brooch that had almost a layer of dust on it after sitting in her sister’s jewelry box for several years untouched.

  “I am not wearing that. Turquoise and purple don’t go together.”

  “They may not technically go together, but they certainly pop.”

  “I don’t want my clothes to pop, Georgie. You go pop all you want. Pop your head off. I’ll wear the black pants and this gray sweater.”

  “How can you be an extra in that?”

  “As opposed to blending in like you in your pumpkin colored pants that look like they were made for the roots of a redwood?”

  “They are called wide-legged pants and are actually not just stylish but slimming as well.”

  Aleta tilted her head to the right and smirked. “Okay, you need me so we can blend in and in order to do that I’m driving.”

  “Shrewd, dear sister. Very shrewd, indeed.”

  They made it to Skokie in record time. The security guard confirmed Max had added their names to his clipboard, so he lazily waved them through. He either didn't recognize them or didn't care.

  Aleta parked her car near half a dozen other luxury cars.

  "Hmmm, these weren't here last time," Georgie observed. "But then again, there hadn't been a death yet when we first pulled in here."

  “True,” Aleta concurred.

  “I hate to say it because Pablo does have such a timeless charm about him, but I am really glad we took your car.”

  “Oh, really?” Aleta’s sarcasm was so thick Georgie was sure she could taste it. “And why is that? Why would you think it is better that we took my car? I think it can be summed up in just two words. Tell me, is it because we—wait for it—blend in.”

  “Yes!” Georgie continued more calmly. “Yes. We blend in. Are you happy now?”

  “I am,” Aleta chuckled.

  Quickly, they got out of the car. Before they could decide where to begin, the familiar face of Max appeared and waved pleasantly.

  “What are we going to do, Georgie? He’s coming to see my feet,” Aleta said between awkwardly smiling lips.

  “Just relax,” Georgie soothed. “Be cool.”

  "Be cool," Aleta mumbled. "Such sage advice."

  “Hi, Georgie. Hi, Aleta. I’m glad you are here.” Max shook their hands. “Things are really crazy around here like someone took a stick and poked a hornet’s nest.”

  “My gosh,” Georgie gushed. “I can only i
magine.”

  “Robbie is frantically trying to reshoot half the scenes that Jason had him change. He’s running into every kind of roadblock you can imagine. It’s like the whole place has been cursed or something.”

  “Wow. That would make for an exciting story, wouldn’t it?” Aleta muttered.

  "Look, here are a couple of badges." Max handed over the plastic cards on long straps. "They are from the other day so keep the dates covered and no one will notice." He gave them both a wink. "I'll catch up with you in a short while. We've got some rebuilding down by the cliff to get finished by sundown then we'll have a meal together."

  “That sounds great, Max.” Aleta looked around.

  “Yes, thanks, Max. We’ll stay out of trouble.”

  As they watched Max hurry off to join a group of guys who were pointing around a small clearing while glancing back down at what could only be a blueprint of some kind, they also studied the faces of the other people around.

  "Is it just me or do you feel an electricity in this place?" Aleta observed.

  “I do. All the people look like they are walking a tightrope over a pit of razor-sharp knives. This isn’t a happy place to work today, is it?”

  “I don’t think so. Maybe we shouldn’t be here. Do you think we are being disrespectful by poking around for information while people are mourning?” Aleta, who was always much more concerned with proper etiquette than Georgie ever was, worried there might be people who would genuinely have their feelings hurt if they poked into the death of Jason Hobbs.

  "We're just helping Stan do his job. You don't see any of his officers around, do you?" Georgie asked as she stretched her neck and looked for a familiar face wearing a blue uniform, or the familiar salt-and-pepper hair of her ex-husband. That was the last thing she needed as she snooped around.

  “No.” Aleta scanned the terrain as well. “What exactly are we helping him with?”

  “Whew,” Georgie started, “here’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Oh, Lord, hold on to your hat. She’s thinking.”

  “Hardy-har-har. Pay attention, little sister. This is important.” Georgie slipped her arm through her sister’s as she so often did when she wanted to share something serious with her. In fact, the twins often wondered if they had linked arms in the womb since they had felt so comfortable doing so their whole lives.

  “I can’t get my mind around a guy as healthy looking as Jason Hobbs having a heart attack out of the blue. But, I can see a jerk like Jason Hobbs who obviously angered a lot of people around him having something done to him intentionally.”

  "It says a lot about you that you think that way." Aleta looked up at the sky and blinked. "I'm not sure how I feel about it."

  “You worry too much,” Georgie pushed Aleta’s words aside. “Now poison can simulate the same reaction as a heart attack. I think he was poisoned more than I think he suffered a sudden heart attack. I just don’t know how it could be done. That’s why we are here. Once we figure that out we can figure out who would have had the opportunity and the motive.”

  “Who do you think could have done it? Or maybe I should be asking who do you think didn’t do it. That list might be shorter.” Aleta looked around suspiciously.

  “That’s a good question.” Georgie held her sister’s arm tightly pulling her closer so she could whisper.

  “After talking with Ryn yesterday, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had something to do with it.”

  “Ryn?” Aleta gasped. “She’s just a little thing. She was crying over her lines yesterday. I don’t know if she has the killer instinct.”

  “Maybe she was acting,” Georgie squinted to emphasize her point.

  “If she was acting she should get an award,” Aleta shook her head.

  “Exactly, but—” Georgie put her finger to her lip, “even if she was acting how would she have gotten to him?

  “Are you kidding? A pretty young lady like her could easily sweet talk her way into the guy’s trailer. Even if he were a jerk and thought she was a no-talent, he wouldn’t ignore her one hundred percent of the time. That would be rather obvious. Plus, she’d only need a second, right?”

  “Maybe,” Georgie agreed with her sister. “I’m having trouble, though.”

  “What, believing a pretty girl could bamboozle a Hollywood producer?”

  “No, I’m having trouble concentrating.”

  “Don’t you think we should put something in our stomachs?” Aleta suggested. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t concentrate if I’m light-headed from hunger.”

  “Good call.” Georgie squeezed her sister’s arm. “Craft Service, here we come.”

  Chapter 8

  “Looks like we’ll have to wait our turn.” Aleta pointed to the Craft Service table that was mobbed with people.

  "I've got a better idea." Georgie led her sister by the hand to the open door of the trailer and knocked loudly. "Can you use a little help?" She called out to Lorelei who was frazzled and rushing around the inside of her trailer arranging food trays. She was adding finishing touches to the food, all the while talking on a phone pinched between her ear and shoulder.

  “YES!” Lorelei mouthed the word with a wide-eyed look of gratitude.

  Quickly, Georgie and Aleta grabbed aprons, slipped them over their heads and tied them around their waists. They each grabbed a platter of sweets and carried them out to the waiting people standing impatiently around the tables. Many individuals rolled their eyes. Comments could be heard that it was about time and, hopefully, the bread was fresher than yesterday, or when will the vegan dishes be brought out, along with half a dozen other complaints that no one tried to say quietly or with any type of decorum.

  "Yikes," Aleta whispered to her sister as she placed a tossed salad on the table. "Don't mess with these guys getting fed. I guess this is serious business."

  “Well, where else are they going to get their food? There isn’t a restaurant that serves this kind of stuff for miles. McDonald’s is probably the closest and eating that every day would be a crime in itself.”

  "I do like their apple pies, though," Aleta admitted.

  “Okay, yes. Those are good. You’re right.” Georgie sighed at the memory of apple pies past.

  Finally, the herd thinned slightly and a short man with curly brown hair and the body of a rugby player marched up to the table and drummed his fingers impatiently on the table.

  “Can I help you with anything?” Georgie asked pleasantly.

  The man didn’t even shift his gaze, but instead just pointed into the trailer to Lorelei.

  “Just a second, Barry. I’ve got your lunch right here.”

  Lorelei emerged with a steaming bowl of rice with veggies that smelled heavenly.

  “Jerk chicken and coconut rice,” Lorelei smiled as she presented the sweet-smelling dish to the man.

  “Thank you,” he said with very little emotion.

  "Hey, Barry. Have you had a chance to look at the script I passed along to you? I was hoping that we might—"

  “Really, Lorelei?” Barry clicked his tongue and shook his head. He let a condescending snort come out while he added a pinch of salt to his jerk chicken and coconut rice. “The guy responsible for the majority of the paychecks around here just died and you’re looking for someone who can help you get your foot in the door?”

  “Wait a minute, Barry.” Lorelei put her hand up. “You told me I could bring the script to you. I didn’t suggest it. I thought we were just enjoying a meal during a break and now—”

  “Just hold it right there!” He shouted, making more than a dozen heads turn. Barry might have been short, but it was obvious that he had learned how to command respect. There were guys a good solid foot taller that appeared scared, relieved that his shouts were not directed at them. “Jason told me you kept pestering him over and over to read this thing. He told me to take it just to get you off his back. Now, why don’t you just do what you’ve been hired to do, serve food.”
<
br />   “But Barry, I—”

  "I know you see yourself as something more," Barry condescended to say, "but Jason was very clear when he told me what kind of woman you are. I'm not reading your script. No one else will be reading it anytime soon, either."

  Georgie looked at Lorelei. This Barry fellow might as well have slapped her across the face. Obviously, he made the offer to read the script in exchange for having his own personal chef on the set.

  Before she could offer Lorelei a word of comfort, the woman turned toward the Craft Service trailer and stomped inside. Looking to her left, Georgie saw Aleta talking with one of the extras, smiling and shaking the woman’s hand.

  “Did you hear that exchange?” Georgie asked her sister.

  “I heard someone shouting, but I didn’t hear the context. What was that all about?”

  Georgie briefly explained how Lorelei had given the short man, Barry, a script, but apparently Jason Hobbs—from beyond the grave—had ruined her chances of getting it read.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “This is how things are done in Hollywood,” Georgie nodded. “Who were you talking to?”

  “That was a nice lady by the name of Cathy. She said that later today Dustin Stetson would be running lines.” Georgie watched her sister start to bounce up and down with excitement.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Aleta smiled and looked around giddily.

  “Well, that might be a perfect opportunity to sniff out a little more information.”

  "He's not going to want to talk to us," Aleta smirked. "He's a big-time actor. What will he have to do with a couple of extras who think they can just go up to him and chew the fat."

  “You are a fan,” Georgie encouraged. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled to talk to you.”

  "I'd just be happy to see him on the set and watch him do his thing. That would be enough for me."

  “Well, I think we need to talk to him,” Georgie pushed. “If you are too shy, I’ll handle it for you. No worries, little sister.”