Murder on the Movie Set

by Sandi Scott

  “Yikes, Georgie,” Max smiled, “that was fun—Not!”

  “Max, can you spare a minute?” She batted her eyes innocently.

  “What can I do for you?” Max offered.

  “Ryn loaned me a copy of her original lines so I could see how much was cut. In the fuss, I forgot to return it. I’ll wait for her to finish this scene and give it back before I leave. Do you know which trailer is hers?” Georgie prayed Max didn’t pick up on the little lie.

  “Sure, her trailer is the gold and blue one on the other side of the Wardrobe trailer.”

  “I know exactly where that is,” Georgie grinned. “My sister is looking forward to talking with you. She’s kind of warmed up to the idea of showing you her deformity. I don’t know if it’s proper to say deformity. We usually called them her good luck charms. There is nothing like putting a positive spin on a negative, right?”

  “Yeah, well, we certainly don’t want to make her uncomfortable. We’re really fascinated. My buddy has a website he might like to post a photo on.”

  “Well, you’ll have to ask Aleta, but I’m sure she’ll agree, if you say ‘please’,” I winked.

  “Thanks, Georgie. Hey, before you leave, stop by Craft Service. Maybe we can have a bite together.”

  “If we have time.”

  Georgie waved goodbye as Max dashed off, following an irate Ryn. As soon as she was out of sight, Georgie headed toward her trailer.

  "The chances of it being open are pretty slim," she mumbled to herself. "A girl like that isn't going to take a chance that some crew member wouldn't sneak in and steal a pair of underpants or some jewelry to sell on eBay."

  As she passed by the Wardrobe trailer—without thinking—Georgie grabbed a couple of dresses along the way. Folding them over and over in her arms, pretending to inspect them for any tears or rips or discolorations, she marched to Ryn’s trailer.

  She knocked on the door, keeping her eyes down, and waited. When no one answered, she tried the latch—pay dirt. The door opened easily. Georgie stepped inside and quickly closed the door behind her.

  The inside was much different from Dustin's. It was like a Barbie dream house on steroids. Almost everything was some horrible shade of pink and there were mirrors on every wall—not the quaint decorative mirrors that add interest to space, nope—full length, look-at-me mirrors, and they were everywhere. But it wasn’t the mirrors that caught Georgie’s interest. Quickly, she tiptoed to the kitchenette. There were dozens of loose leaf teas and freshly dried herbs, each in specifically coded canisters along the counter.

  There was also a small altar with a strange statue of a female in the middle with incense and candles all around. To Georgie, it didn't look like witchcraft. Instead, she thought it was some weird New Age trendy thing that was probably very popular in Hollywood. Yet, there were rolls of sage and crystalized incense scattered around.

  "Something doesn't look right," Georgie muttered.

  For fear of being caught if she stayed much longer, Georgie hustled to the bedroom and peeked inside. It was also pink with a very soft-looking bed with satin sheets and comforter. The bed had not been made and there were clothes lying on the floor. The maid had obviously not been in yet.

  “I don’t care!” Georgie heard voices. “It isn’t up to you. It’s up to me and I’m telling you there is no time for this.”

  Was that Ryn? Georgie couldn’t tell. Whoever it was they were outside the trailer door.

  For as massive as the place was, Georgie couldn’t find anywhere to hide. There was one big closet in the front room and a smaller one in the bedroom. By the time Georgie made a move to hide in the bigger closet closer to the front door, she heard the click of the latch. Reversing and ducking down, she slipped into the bedroom and into the smaller closet.

  “This isn’t going to work.” She shook her head. “I’m going to get busted and probably arrested. They’ll hold me and Aleta until the cops come, and then Stan will show up. I’d rather just go to jail than listen to another sermon from him.”

  But while she waited, the conversation continued outside.

  “He’s not making those decisions anymore.”

  It was Ryn.

  “I’m going to go to my trailer. You don’t need me for this.”

  Whoever she was talking to was either very quiet or perhaps on the phone with her.

  “Fine. I’ll go back to the set, but this can’t happen again. It just can’t.

  Georgie held her breath and waited. Nothing. Complete silence. She darted out of the bedroom, still holding the clothes she had swiped from the wardrobe area and left the trailer.

  On her way back, she hung the clothes back up and went to the car to find Aleta. She shook her sister awake, out of a sound sleep.

  “What? What!” Aleta barked.

  "You aren't going to believe this," Georgie said, scooting into the car while pushing against her sister before slamming the door shut. She explained her strange conversation with Ryn and the herbal teas she'd found in the girl's trailer.

  “So? What does it all mean?” Aleta asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Georgie pouted, “but it still keeps Ryn in the suspect pool and closer to the deep end than Lorelei.”

  “You think?”

  “Yeah, after seeing her temper tantrum over our being here asking questions, I wouldn’t be surprised if her ego got the best of her. She might have done in Jason Hobbs then drank some soothing chamomile tea while burning her sage to make herself feel she did the universe a favor.”

  “It’s a bit of a stretch.” Aleta yawned. “Are you going to call and tell Stan?”

  “No. That guy doesn’t see the connections. He doesn’t think outside the box.”

  “You mean he thinks rationally. He relies on facts, not gut reactions.”

  Georgie smirked and shrugged one shoulder.

  “Gut instinct is as important to cops as the facts. It’s a given on every cop show on television.”

  "Good one, Georgie," Aleta soothed. "You're right. If it happens in Law and Order, it's got to be true."

  “That’s a lawyer show. I don’t know what those people do. I’m talking about police officers.” She rolled her eyes. “Law and Order, are you kidding me?”

  Chapter 12

  “Max and his buddies invited us to have dinner with them at the Craft Service area, but Dustin also invited us,” Georgie said while inspecting her nails.

  “What? Why are you wasting my time telling me about Ryn’s temper tantrum when Dustin Stetson wants to have dinner with us!”

  “Calm down.” Georgie’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve got a brilliant idea.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

  “I can tell by the look on your face, it will be something bad.”

  “You are my twin sister. How can you even imagine I’d do anything that would cause you pain or discomfort?” Georgie blinked her eyes innocently again.

  “What’s your idea?” Aleta huffed.

  “You go have dinner with Dustin Stetson and I’ll have dinner with Max and his buddies. That way we’ll get twice as much information and you won’t have to show Max your polydactylism.”

  "You mean the made-up polydactylism that you told them I had? That polydactylism?"

  “Yes.” Georgie lifted her chin as if she had just saved her sister from an awful embarrassment. “I told Max that we called it your good luck charms.”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. I’m helping get you out of it, don’t you see that?”

  “Georgie, you are helping me get out of a jam you put me in. Why should I be thankful about that?”

  “Because I could just leave you to fend for yourself. Then you’d have to show them your plain old feet with no extra toes, no ingrown toenail, nor even a bunion to boot. Nice.”

  “I swear,” Aleta shook her head in disgust at Georgie’s comment, “you’ve got a real screw loose.”

/>   “But you’re in, right? You’ll have dinner with Dustin and I’ll have dinner with Max?”

  “Yes, but I’m not letting you off the hook. You’ll pay for this.”

  “Oh, right. I’ll pay for getting you dinner with your favorite actor who seems to be very interested in you.”

  “He does?” Aleta shook her head. “He does not.” Then folded her arms over her chest in a harrumph.

  Chapter 13

  As evening fell over the movie set, the crew and actors were getting noticeably crankier.

  "Just like little babies if you go a minute past feeding time," Georgie observed. She strolled to the Craft Service table and saw they had enormous oatmeal raisin cookies. A little inner voice cautioned— You'll spoil your dinner— but that didn't deter her. There were several interesting options for her meal: A delicious looking vegetable lasagna steamed beside homemade garlic bread, or there was also a salmon with dill sauce option. But what caught Georgie by the taste buds was the homemade beef stew.

  “I wish sometimes they’d just make burgers and hotdogs,” Georgie overheard a guy she recognized as part of the camera crew. He was talking to a woman who looked like she could have been a linebacker for the Chicago Bears.

  “I know what you mean,” the woman replied.

  Just then Georgie saw Max waving her over. He was alone at a table for four. “Hi, Georgie.”

  “This has been a long day.” Georgie slipped into a seat across from him. “Are your friends coming?”

  “They might be late. There are some prop and sound issues they need to work on. There is a huge dead zone on the set. It looks good, but the actors don’t sound right. We can’t figure it out.”

  “How interesting.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” His eyes scanned the food on his plate.

  "I heard some people complaining they wish that Craft Service would just serve hamburgers and hot dogs sometimes."

  “It doesn’t matter to me. We get fed pretty well.” He patted his gut. “It hasn’t helped me lose any weight so they’re doing something right.”

  “Do the actors eat out here, too?” Georgie asked casually.

  “Not usually. Sometimes Mr. Stetson will hang around with us grunts, but not often. In fact, most of the time the director and the stars of the movie eat in their trailers.” Max picked up his fork getting ready to eat, before adding, “It’s too bad. Maybe if Mr. Hobbs had been eating out here with everyone else someone would have been able to get him help faster.”

  “You think?” Georgie asked.

  “Yeah. Robbie was in Hobbs’ trailer just a short while before it all happened.” Max took a huge bite of his food and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “They were having dinner in there. We all said, the only time Robbie and Hobbs try to get on the same page and soon as Robbie leaves the whole thing falls apart.”

  “So, Robbie was the last one to see Hobbs alive?”

  “Seems that way. Well, technically, we all saw Hobbs alive for the last few seconds of his life.” He shoveled in another big bite of food. “Not to be morbid or anything.”

  “Of course not.” Georgie assumed Stan had to know about this. He had to know that Robbie had dinner with Hobbs and then Hobbs dropped dead. “Did anyone else ever break bread with Hobbs in his trailer, either that day or at any other time? I wouldn’t think Jason Hobbs was the kind of person to fraternize with the commoners.”

  “He wasn’t. You’re right about that.” Max sat back in his seat for a minute and thought. “I know that Ryn was in and out of his trailer several times most days. Between you and me, she complains like a spoiled brat, but most of the cast for any movie is like that,” he chuckled.

  “Do you know if she stopped in that afternoon?”

  “She did. She had a bee in her bonnet over some of the lines they cut.” He swallowed his food and wiped his whiskers again. “I heard Dustin telling her not to bother him, but she wouldn’t listen. If a guy tells her anything, she does the complete opposite. Most of the women are too afraid to approach her about her behavior.”

  “That petite little thing? Afraid of her?”

  "I hate to tell you, Georgie, but that is one thing we've all learned being in this business. The prettier the face, the longer the camera takes," he snorted.

  “So, she went to see Hobbs, too, before he died.” Georgie had barely touched her bowl of stew—she was so busy trying to focus on what Max was saying. Of all the people she had suspected, these three were the most likely candidates, but nothing set any of them apart. There was no one person she could identify as guiltier than another. When she finally tasted the thick, beefy smelling stew concoction her eyes rolled back in her head.

  “This is delicious.” She patted Max’s arm.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  Georgie and Max continued their conversation and Max told her about several other movies where he had worked behind the scenes.

  “I don’t know if you heard of The Connecticut Plan?” He seemed to puff his chest out a little as he named this one.

  "I have. That looked like a really good movie. I like spy films, but I don't get to see many of them. I'll notice a preview of a movie and make a mental note that I want to see it, then I forget. It's one of the downfalls of getting old," she giggled "but now that I know a friend of mine is listed in the credits, you can bet I'll get it from The Red Box as soon as I get home."

  “It is kind of a thrill to see your name up there,” he bragged.

  “I’ll bet.” Georgie cleared her throat. “Max, I have to tell you the truth.”

  He looked at her over his giant cup of soda pop.

  “My sister Aleta doesn’t suffer from polydactylism. We lied to stay on the set. You see she loves Dustin Stetson and the day we were here through the radio show promotion, he wasn’t around. So ... I wrangled another day out of you under the guise of showing you her malformed feet. She doesn’t have them. Her feet are normal.”

  “The guys and I kind of figured that," Max smirked, "but you were so hilarious we figured, why not? Polydactylism, really? What was the worst you could do on the set, other than maybe get in the way? So far you haven't done that, so don't worry. Your secrets are safe with me."

  Georgie laughed and patted Max’s arm. Just as she was about to tell him about the time she climbed up a fire escape to sneak into an art gallery, she saw Aleta and waved, but —Aleta didn’t wave back. She didn’t smile. In fact, she scowled.

  “My gosh, girl.” Georgie stood up and took a few steps. “What happened?”

  “What happened?” Aleta folded her arms over her chest. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

  "No. Wait. I can guess. He made a pass at you, didn't he?" Georgie put her hands on her sister's shoulders. "These Hollywood types are alike. They think everyone is interested in trying out the casting couch. Oh, Aleta, please don't tell me you fell for the I can make you a star line? Your reputation will just be ruined.”

  “Would you calm down?” Aleta stated. Her right eyebrow was arched with annoyance.

  "I'll call Stan right now. You just give the word. They'll have to postpone shooting for three months while he recuperates. I'll kick him till he's dead."

  “It’s your fault,” Aleta scolded.

  Georgie stood frozen. Her bottom lip began to tremble.

  “You’re right. I handed you over to that monster. I didn’t think about anyone but myself. Aleta, will you ever forgive me?” Georgie began to sob dramatically.

  “Oh, get ahold of yourself.” Aleta shook her off trying not to laugh at Georgie’s theatrics. “He didn’t make a pass. He showed me his feet.”

  As Georgie stood staring at her sister, the only part of her body that moved was her jaw, as it fell open. Max followed suit.

  “Yeah, Brainiac. Seems that word of my ‘lucky charms’ spread to the distinguished Mr. Dustin Stetson and he thought he had found a kindred spirit in another polydactyl. Yup, he wanted to see my two extra digits.”

  "I.
..don't know...what to say to this," Georgie whispered. "Max, help."

  "How do you think it made me feel when he was there baring his naked six-toed foot at me waiting for me to do the same? I had to tell him my sister had a knack for embellishment."

  “What did he say?”

  “Before or after he said he was calling security?”

  Chapter 14

  Georgie looked at Max, who tried his best not to laugh outright, but grinned like a devil and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to cut our dinner short.” She grabbed her giant raisin and oatmeal cookie.

  “It was a pleasure meeting both of you. If you’re ever in Los Angeles, look me up.” He handed Georgie a business card that she quickly stuffed in her pocket.

  As the sisters walked, they saw Dustin talking with two fellows in uniforms, the word Security stitched on their shoulders.

  “Now what, Miss Smarty Pants?” Aleta’s mood had gone from bad to worse.

  “We can take ‘em. Those guys don’t look so tough” Georgie snickered putting up her fists.

  "I'm going to deliver you right to them," Aleta grumbled. "That's it."

  “Come on.” Georgie grabbed Aleta’s hand and tugged her away from the eating area.

  “Look, there are a dozen places to hide.”

  "Hide? Georgie, they want us off the property. We are in trouble. Real trouble. We've lied, snooped, trespassed. Stan may not be able to help us this time.”

  “Stan? Why in the world would you bring him into this?”

  “Because, dear sister, if we get caught, we’re going to need him to pay our bail and recommend a good lawyer. One thing these Hollywood types have is access to lawyers—lots of them.”

  “Stuffed shirts,” Georgie spat. “I’m old. My mind isn’t what it once was. Isn’t this the Kaye family reunion? Are you cousin Shelby? Where am I? What’s my name? See? They’d be crazy to prosecute us for anything. We’ll just get a severe reprimand. That’s all.”

  “If that’s the case, why are we hurrying?”