Deadly directors cut, p.10
Deadly Director's Cut, page 10
Gary had been standing close to Mary-Alice, and they’d talked in low voices throughout the prayer and Matthew’s speech. He gave Mary-Alice a nod and went to stand next to Matthew. “Thank you, Mr. Oswald, for the trust you’ve put in me. In all of us. Before we begin, I’d like to invite Miss Olivia Peters to do me the honor of sitting with me.” He gestured to the chair next to the director’s.
Olivia gave the clapping crowd a small wave and drifted across the lawn, her skirts swirling around her long legs. Behind me I heard a woman say, “Gloria Grant and Olivia Peters. The bridge club will be simply green with envy. Have your camera at the ready, Fred. I want to get a picture of me with them later.”
Gary took Olivia’s hand; they said a few quiet words and she settled herself into the camp chair. She looked lovely and dewy-fresh, as she always did in front of her adoring public. No doubt only I had noticed the slightest tilt to one side as she favored her good leg as she walked.
“Positions, everyone,” Gary yelled. “I need absolute quiet, or I’ll evict the onlookers.” How he could evict several hundred of our staff and guests, I didn’t know, but his threat did the trick and the murmurs of conversation died down. “Gloria, Todd, I know you’re distraught, but I also know you’ll do your absolute best today. As will we all.”
The word I’d use for Todd wasn’t distraught. He’d sauntered up to me the minute I’d stepped onto the lawn and asked, “Where’s Velvet this morning?”
“She has callisthenics. The eight o’clock class normally uses the dock, but today they’re by the swimming pool.”
“Thanks,” he’d said, and headed toward the pool.
He returned in time to hear the newly appointed assistant director calling his name. He and Gloria took their places at the end of the dock, and the camera, sound recorder, and lighting equipment were maneuvered into position. The morning sun was rising over the lake in a clear sky, and the forecast predicted another hot and humid day, perfect for ensuring that our guests would be glad they’d come to the mountains. Two bright orange paddleboats, containing movie extras, drifted past in the distance, and a pretty young woman in a flowered bathing suit and matching cap stood on the sidelines, ready to walk in front of the camera as the scene began. I was surprised to see Randy standing next to her, also dressed in his bathing suit. He rolled his shoulders and bounced on his toes, as though getting ready to bound onto the set. He must have been taken on as an extra after all.
The scene had been set up yesterday morning, when the camera took long panoramic shots of the actors in the distance. Today the camera prepared to move in close, and a sound boom hovered above.
This movie would be a wonderful advertisement for the Catskills in general and, I hoped, for Haggerman’s in particular. A great many people, and not just in Hollywood, would be anxious for this film to be a success. First, of course, it had to be finished, and despite Matthew’s assurances to the assembly, that was not yet a certainty in light of the director’s death.
I studied the faces around me. The actors getting into position, the cameraman behind his camera, the men with the lighting and sound equipment, the catering crew, Gary in the director’s chair next to my mother, the makeup artist standing at the ready, Randy and the bathing-suit-clad woman. Even Freemont was watching today, not needing to have the car ready at an instant’s notice. Plus hotel people, off-duty staff, and staff who were supposed to be working but found watching a movie being made more interesting than their duties. All these people and many more stood to benefit if Elias had lived.
Who, then, wanted him dead?
“Action!” Gary yelled, and the person with the clapper board clapped it. Randy and the young woman walked between the dock and the camera. When they’d passed, the camera platform was pushed slowly forward, focusing on Gloria.
She stared out over the water at the rising sun. She wore a black-and-white-checked dress with a Peter Pan collar, black buttons running from neckline to hem, and a thin black belt. A black sun hat was carefully arranged to keep the shadows off her face. “Grandmama,” Todd said, and Gloria turned. Todd walked onto the dock, followed by the camera and microphone. He was dressed in an army uniform that fit far better than anything I’d seen during the war. In the real army he’d be up on charges, with hair that long.
“So soon,” Gloria said. Her voice was low, full of grief and of fear. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to restrain the emotions threatening to overwhelm her.
“My ride’s here,” he said. “It’s time for me to go.”
She put her hand in the center of his chest. The light caught the size and power of the single diamond she wore. He covered her hand with his. “I consider our disagreement to be behind us,” Gloria said. “Go with God, Reggie. Do what you have to do and make our country and our family proud.”
“Grandmama,” Todd said.
“Cut!” Gary shouted. Gloria and Todd moved apart. Todd stretched his neck and wiggled his shoulders to let out some of the tension. Gloria stretched her mouth and jaws.
One of my reservations clerks let out a long breath. “Oh my gosh. I have goose bumps. I cannot wait to find out what happens to him.”
“He is soooo gorgeous in that uniform,” said a file clerk.
I turned to them. “Work stopped for the day, has it? We have no one wanting to make a booking? No paperwork to be seen to? The business office opened at eight, did it not?”
“We’re on our lunch break, Mrs. Grady,” the reservations clerk said.
“It’s eight thirty.”
“An early lunch.”
I glanced around the hillside. Most of my staff were out here. I hid a smile. It scarcely mattered. Most of the guests were out here too. For perhaps the first time in the entire history of the Catskills, people were voluntarily missing breakfast.
“Very well,” I said. “You can have an early lunch.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Grady.”
“Roger. Todd. Gloria. Positions,” Gary yelled.
Mary-Alice whispered in his ear, and he nodded.
Todd and Gloria moved toward each other. Gloria put her hand on his chest, and Todd placed his on top of hers. The camera hovering over them had pulled back as Roger got ready to join the scene.
“Action!” Gary called, and the clapper clapped.
Roger stepped onto the dock. His sliver hair was slicked back, and he wore a business suit. His face was tight with anger. “What’s this? Your mother told me you’re leaving today.”
Gloria and Todd separated. “John, please,” Gloria said. “Not now.”
Roger ignored her. He faced Todd, bristling with anger and aggression. “You’re planning to sneak away, like a thief in the night.”
“I thought it best, Father,” Todd said in a calm, reasonable voice, “that I do it this way. I’ve said my goodbyes to Mother and to Grandmama. You’ve made your position clear, and you and I have no more to say to each other.”
“I’ll decide when we have nothing more to say. I’ve invited a lot of important people to dinner tonight. People who want to wish you well, if you must go off to the army.”
Todd sighed heavily. “Mother told me you invited Judith McNamara and her parents.”
“Of course I invited them. McNamara is an important man around these parts.”
“How much longer do you and Mr. McNamara intend to humiliate poor Judith? I am not going to marry her, no matter how much money she can bring to the marriage.”
“Please. Don’t argue,” Gloria implored. “Not now. Not today of all days.”
They ignored her. The two men faced each other. Everyone watching held their breath. Roger lifted his fist and swung at Todd’s face. The onlookers gasped. Gary didn’t yell cut and tell us to keep quiet, so I assumed they’d edit the sound out of the final version. From my vantage point, I could see that the blow missed Todd entirely, but he lifted his hand to his face and staggered backward. He stood at the edge of the dock, his eyes wide with shock. In the background, the two paddleboats reappeared, heading in the other direction. A flock of ducks few overhead. They hadn’t been sent there by the director, but it would add a nice touch to the scene.
Gloria grabbed Roger’s arm. He shook her off.
“I’m not going to fight you, Father,” Todd said, his voice more full of sorrow than anger.
“You come to dinner tonight, you lavish attention on Judith, or I’m cutting you off. Completely and totally.”
“I report for duty Monday morning. Esmerelda and I are leaving on the noon train. I’m sorry you’ll not get the chance to meet her.” Todd turned to Gloria. “You’ll like her very much, Grandmama. When the war’s over, I hope—”
Roger lunged forward and shoved Todd. Todd stepped back, his arms windmilling. Gloria raised her hands to her mouth, her eyes wide.
“Cut!” Gary yelled. “Good but not good enough. Fifteen-minute break and then let’s try that again. Todd, your father has just attacked you. I need a lot more shock on your face.”
And I had a hotel to run. I headed back, and spotted Velvet watching the excitement from the edges of the crowd. “What happened to your exercise group?” I asked her.
“No one showed up.” She swept her arm in front of her, taking in the excited crowd on the hillside, the cluster of actors and assorted crew gathered around the dock. The makeup woman was patting Gloria’s cheeks with an enormous powder puff. Todd had a cigarette in one hand and a coffee cup in the other. Roger was bent over Gary’s chair, talking animatedly.
The paddleboats bobbed on the still water. For a moment, I wondered if the ducks were also waiting for their cue.
“All you can do,” I said to Velvet, “is be available in case anyone does want to do activities today. What’s Randy up to anyway?”
“He’s been hired to be an extra. He told me about it over breakfast. Whoever they had pretending to be a lifeguard walking across the lawn got a better offer and took off. Todd told Gary that Randy has some movie experience, and he got the job. Wasn’t that nice of Todd?”
I didn’t say no, but I thought it. “Randy has a job. He works for me.”
“It’s a small part. He just walks in front of the camera. I guess they thought he looks good in his bathing suit.” Velvet chuckled.
It might be a small part, but it seemed to take an awfully long time to film one scene. I left her and headed for Dave Dawson, still standing alone. He’d pulled his hat low over his face in an attempt to shield his eyes from the rising sun. “Where are your friends?” I asked.
“My friends?”
“The state police.”
“Good question. I’ve no idea. Probably lost on the back roads, like last time. They were supposed to meet me here at seven thirty. I went to Kennelwood first thing and spoke to Mr. Oswald. He persuaded me to let the filming continue as planned. Something about having set the scene yesterday and the importance of catching the same light.” Dave shook his head. He lowered his hand and blinked at me from beneath his glasses. “Probably not good policing, but Mr. Oswald was very convincing about the amount of money and publicity his movie’s pouring into this area. He went to the trouble of finding out the name of our mayor and dropped it into our conversation. I was about to come looking for you. I want to talk to the people who knew Mr. Th—the dead man, and I need a place to do that.”
“I’ll have a meeting room put aside for you. I’ll tell the front desk, and they’ll direct you if you can’t find me.”
“Thanks. Do you have anything to add to what you said last night? Remember anything?”
“Sorry. No. Velvet and I talked it over, but she didn’t notice anything significant either.”
“She was there? At this dinner?”
“Oh, yes. You’ll have no shortage of people to talk to. I saw you at the catering table. Did they serve Elias his lunch yesterday?”
“They say no. He’s never come anywhere near them, although they think his secretary fetched the occasional coffee for him. And, before you ask, the coffee’s served to everyone out of one big pot. They’re from Kennelwood, so they don’t know if missing lunch was his regular habit or not.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” I said. “Speaking of the catered lunch, it’s unlikely you’ll get anything to eat from them, that’s only for the cast and crew. If you’re here at lunchtime, it’s on the house. Tell the maître d’ I said so.”
“Thanks, Elizabeth.”
I next caught up with Matthew standing beside the flower beds surrounding the signpost pointing to the activity centers. Francis Monahan was pulling up weeds, and he gave me a shy smile of hello. I said, “Good morning.”
I said the same to Matthew, followed by “Things seem to be going ahead as far as your movie’s concerned.”
“For now. Freemont’s gone for the car. I’m heading to Kennelwood to make some calls to the studio people.”
“Do you have an idea as to what they’re going to decide?”
“To keep filming if they know what’s good for them. And for their pocketbook. We’ve paid for the script, for the location shoot, paid the actors and the crew, brought everyone up here. We have good background footage and a couple of scenes in the can. Shots that can’t be replicated if we wait more than a couple of days.”
“Can I ask a question?” I said.
“Sure. What?”
“Why didn’t they film Todd falling into the lake? He stood at the edge looking as though he was about to go in, and then Gary stopped filming. I would have thought that would make a great scene.”
Matthew grinned at me. “Several reasons. Can’t have Todd getting all wet and then the director needing to reshoot the scene where he’s dry. But more to the point, Todd can’t swim. We don’t want film of him floundering around. Wouldn’t quite match the image he’s trying to project. The character, Reginald, does go in the water, and when he gets out he leaves to meet his lady friend and catch their train soaking wet and in a rage. We’ll film that scene in shallower water.”
A taxi pulled into the curve at the entrance to the hotel, and two men got out. One of them looked around while the other handed money to the driver and waited for his change. They were both dressed in business suits and hats. One had a camera around his neck. They didn’t go into the hotel but headed straight for the movie set.
Another taxi pulled up behind the first. This time the passengers were a man and a woman. Her mouth was a slash of red, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a brown tweed suit and flat shoes, completely out of place on a bright Catskills summer morning, and carried a heavy leather purse that showed signs of a lot of wear. The man was also in a suit and he carried a large black box.
“The ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Matthew said to me.
“News travels. They would have gotten out of bed mighty early to get here so quickly. Those are New York City taxis. Must have cost them a fortune.”
A private car was next to arrive. I recognized the driver as he got out and tossed the keys to a bellhop. Jim Westenham, crack crime reporter for the New York Times, touched the brim of his hat, and said, “Elizabeth. Good morning. You’re looking as lovely as ever this fine morning.” Jim and I had met earlier in the summer when his uncle died at the hotel under suspicious circumstances.
“Dare I ask what brings you here?” I asked.
“Big news, Elizabeth. Elias Theropodous died last night and it might not be from natural causes. A steady stream of cars and taxis pulled out of New York in the wee hours of this morning, and more will be arriving on the first train. We headed for Kennelwood, where we’d been told the man was staying. They told us the filming was happening here and . . . here we are. Do I get an inside scoop?”
“No.”
“You were at the hospital with Elias when he died.”
“How do you know that?”
“I didn’t. But you just confirmed it. All my sources said was that people from the hotel where he’d been having dinner brought him in. Not the hotel where he’d been staying, and you’re the closest, and they’re filming here this morning. A guess on my part. Hi.” He thrust his hand toward Matthew, standing silently at my side. “Jim Westenham. New York Times.”
Matthew accepted the shake. “Matthew Oswald. I know your name. You’re a crime reporter.”
“That I am, and proud of it.”
“Was that Jane Donaldson arriving ahead of you? New York Morning Standard?”
“The Dame of Gossip herself, from a paper with no standards whatsoever. Oswald. Matthew Oswald.” Jim grinned. “Do you, as a producer of this movie, have a statement for the press?”
“Not to a crime reporter, no.”
“Jim,” I said, “all I want is for Haggerman’s name to be left out of it.”
“Not going to happen, Elizabeth. This is a big story. Particularly if it turns out the man’s death wasn’t accidental. What do you know about that?”
I shook my head.
“Here’s Freemont now,” Matthew said. “Elizabeth. Mr. Westenham.” Matthew headed for his car at a brisk pace.
“I hear Dave Dawson’s now chief of police of your lovely little town,” Jim said. “Good for him. Because I knew where it was, having been to Kennelwood before, I managed to grab a phone before the others could get to it and called the police for an update. Dawson’s holding a press conference at three this afternoon.” Jim pointed behind me. “Looks like they didn’t get far.” I turned to see the three newspapermen and the one newspaperwoman being marched off the film set by two rather burley gentlemen, the studio’s security guards. My security staff are more used to chasing drunk teenagers away from the pool after hours or searching the woods for kids who got lost playing hide-and-seek than providing actual muscle.
