Lights, Camera . . . Page 4

  “I’m not making excuses,” a man’s voice yelled. “I’m telling you that it can’t be done—not on this timetable! You and Morris have been way off base from the beginning on this schedule. You’ve got to give us more time to get that boat ready, or you’re going to have a disaster on your hands.”

  “You know the pressure we’re under here,” Rita fired back. “If you were the least bit professional or had even an ounce of pride in your work, you’d do everything you could to get the job done.”

  When George and I reached the clearing, I recognized the man arguing with Rita. He was the chief carpenter on the production, and he was waving a piece of paper in Rita’s face.

  “They’ve been going at it for about twenty minutes,” George whispered.

  “We are doing everything we can!” the man roared, his face purple with rage. “But obviously that’s not good enough. Lots of luck with this shoot—you’re going to need it!”

  Then he wadded up the paper and lobbed it at Rita’s nose.

  Lights!

  Rita ducked as the wadded paper flew toward her face. The chief carpenter strode across the clearing without looking back.

  As Rita watched him walk away, she looked as if she was going to explode. She scooped up the wadded paper and sailed it off the bluff. Turning back around, she seemed to notice George and me for the first time.

  She looked a little embarrassed, and frankly, I felt uneasy myself at being caught just standing there and watching. I decided to offer my help and hurried over to her. “Rita, I’m sorry,” I told her. “We heard your voices. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Can you hammer a nail?” she replied with a lopsided smile. “Looks like our carpenter chief walked off the job.”

  She started walking back to the mess hall, and I fell into step beside her. George followed. “What happens now?” I asked. “Can you just move someone up from the current crew?”

  “Not really,” she said, quickening her pace. “There are strict rules covering all the tradesmen on a film. The head carpenter has to fit certain criteria and have specific certification. I don’t think anyone else on the team has all the credentials. It’ll take days to find someone on the coast and get him flown out here. I just can’t believe this!”

  Rita found Morris inside talking to Luther. She interrupted their conversation and vented all her frustration and anger in one long sentence. When she finally stopped talking, she took a huge gasp of air, then plopped down into a chair.

  “Any chance we can get him back?” he asked her.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Besides, I don’t think we want him back. He hasn’t been doing the job, and he’s got a major attitude problem.”

  Morris rattled off the names of some people he knew in Hollywood that might serve as replacements. But he agreed that it would be hard to find one that was between assignments and available to begin immediately. “I can’t deal with any more delays,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

  “Does it have to be someone from Hollywood?” I asked. I glanced at George and smiled. She smiled back, and I could tell she’d read my mind.

  “Okay, Nancy,” he said, “you’ve been my chief local headhunter so far. I need someone who can take over carpentry management—at least for a while, until I can get someone in from the coast. I can’t pay much, because the budget’s strained to the edge right now. But the new guy will get his name in the credits, and my undying gratitude. And if he does a good job, he’ll have a glowing recommendation that I guarantee will get him steady work in the business.”

  “How about if it’s not a guy?” I asked. “My friend Bess Marvin is an ace carpenter. She’s built stage sets for local productions. She’s worked her way through certification and trade licensing. And she would love to work on this film.”

  “Plus, she’ll charm the rest of the crew into doing exactly what she says,” Luther added.

  “Call her,” Morris said. “I might still have to bring in someone from the studio to head up the crew, but it sounds like she’ll be great until then. I definitely need another person hammering nails, at the very least. We’re pretty close to shutting down for today,” he said, checking the round gold watch he carried in his pocket. “Have her report tomorrow, if she can.”

  “I’m not sure we’ll be able to hold her off until then,” I said. And I was right. I called Bess right away, and it took her about half a second to yell, “Yes!” And within forty minutes she was at the compound.

  “We did it!” she called out, as she ran from the parking lot to greet George and me. “I knew it was a good idea to get my licensing and trade certification last summer. Now here we all are—part of the crew working on a real Hollywood movie!”

  “A television movie,” George reminded her.

  “I know,” Bess said, “but it’s still a real movie—a major production.”

  “A shoestring production,” I corrected her. “This is a low-budget project. And Morris is not the big-time Hollywood director/producer Luther thought he was.”

  “Okay,” Bess said with a huge sigh. “Low-budget production, television movie. I get it. But at least we’re working on it—and Nancy’s even acting in it. Come on, you two. We have to start somewhere!”

  “True,” I conceded. There was never any point in trying to hold off Bess’s enthusiasm. It was like a tornado. You just got swept up in it.

  “You’re right,” George said to her cousin. “It is cool, and we are definitely going to have fun.”

  “Wait till you meet the Alvarez boys,” I added. “Come to think of it, what happened to them? I was supposed to be their tour guide for a night on the town in River Heights. They must have left without me.”

  “So, how about a tour of a movie production camp instead,” Bess said. “Come on, I want to see everything! Where’s my shop?” she asked, looking around. The sun was already down, and although the worklights were still on, the whole compound was beginning to be overrun with dark shadows whose shapes shimmered and morphed as we watched.

  “Okay, it’s tour time,” George announced. “Come on, Bess. We’ll show you around.”

  We walked through the middle of the compound. George and I took turns pointing out the different trailers and temporary buildings, telling Bess about the specialized activities that each one housed. Then we strolled around the fringe of the compound. At one end, we showed her the carpentry building.

  “Do people actually live in their trailers while they’re here?” Bess asked.

  “Some do,” George answered. “Some have hotel rooms in town.”

  “And some do both,” I added. “Stay out here part of the time, but still keep a room in town if they need to get away from it for a while.”

  “So this is where I’ll be hanging out,” Bess said. She wandered through the carpentry section, inspecting tools and looking over plans. She quickly changed from excited movie fan to pro carpenter. “I can do this,” she said, nodding.

  “I never doubted it for a minute,” I said. “Come on, let’s continue your tour.”

  George and I took Bess into the sound studio. None of the interior sets was finished yet, but we could see the beginnings of what would be the Mahoney Anvil company office and the boat that carried the money for the anvils.

  “Looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Bess murmured, looking around. “None of these sets is anywhere near ready for filming.”

  “Listen to her,” George said. “She’s taking charge already. They’re shooting some scenes at exterior locations too,” George said. “Right, Nancy?”

  “Right,” I answered. “They’re using that old abandoned cabin out in Humphrey’s Woods for the Rackham brothers’ place. And I’m not sure where they’re shooting the river scenes. The last I heard, they were even thinking of shooting them on Swain Lake.”

  “Instead of the river?” Bess said.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I answered. “Luther said it has something to do with insurance or pr
operty rights—he wasn’t sure. The only exterior locations that are confirmed are the cabin and the one for the scene in which the mountain lion attacks Ethan Mahoney just as he’s about to catch up to the Rackham Gang.”

  “Shouldn’t that all have been decided by now?” George asked. “It seems kind of late in the game to be scrounging for locations.”

  “Not for this production apparently,” I said. “Come on, let’s go find some dessert in the kitchen, if it’s open.”

  We walked toward the mess hall. It was really getting dark now. There was no moon. The interior yard of the compound was well-lit by large worklamps mounted high on columns. But behind and between the buildings and trailers, the night was inky black.

  “If they’re so intent on cutting corners and saving money, I’m surprised they’re including the scene about Ethan and the mountain lion,” George said. “What are they using for the lion? Mrs. Cartwright’s golden retriever?”

  “Oh, no,” I replied. “We have an actual menagerie in the camp! Follow me.”

  I took them around the last trailer, which was labeled WRANGLER. “That’s Jake Brigham’s trailer. His animal friends are out back.” I led them to a stable, but the door was locked.

  “Hey, girls,” a friendly voice said. “How ya’ doin’?”

  “Jake . . . hi,” I said. He really looked like a wrangler—leather hat with a floppy brim pulled down over thick silver hair, golden tan, muddy boots.

  “Here to say hi to the horses, are you?” he asked. “’Bout time you all met.”

  “Sure,” I answered. I introduced him to Bess and George, and then he unlocked the stable door. Inside were four horses, two roans and two palominos. A black cat had carved out a comfy bed on a worn blanket lying on a stack of hay. The horses looked a little uneasy.

  “Whoa,” Jake murmured. “Whoa, now. This is Esther—she’s going to be your friend for a while.” He turned to me. “Come on over, Nancy. Make friends.”

  I moved slowly from horse to horse, stroking their faces and talking to them while Jake introduced me.

  “Nancy’s going to be riding with these babies,” Jake told Bess and George. “In the film, Ross Rack-ham drives the wagon to the river, John is in the back, and Esther rides on the seat next to Ross. You ever ride in a horse-drawn wagon, Nancy?”

  “Only once,” I answered, “in a parade through town. I even drove the horses, but the trainer was on the seat beside me, just in case.”

  “My gals here are very tame,” Jake said. “These two are the stars,” he added, pointing to the first two, “and those are the stand-ins. We’ll have a few more in here by the time we start shooting. The Alvarez brothers will be riding their own horses too.”

  “Is there really going to be a mountain lion in the movie?” Bess asked. “I remember the one from the legend.”

  “That’s right, missy,” Jake said, crouching down to act out the scene. “Just about the time Ethan Mahoney’s catching up to the Rackham boys, a mountain lion plunges from the woods and attacks him.” He brushed off his jeans and smiled. “We’re usin’ a stunt double for Mahoney in that scene, of course. Can’t have Herman Houseman bein’ menaced by a wild animal.”

  “So do you train the lion, too?” George asked.

  “I do,” he answered. “Would you all like to meet them? They’re out back here.”

  We all answered with an enthusiastic yes, and he led us out of the stable. After locking the door, he took us to a large trailer parked about thirty yards away. “Even though we’re all friends,” he explained, “it still spooks the horses a little when they hear the lions whining, so I park their house over here.”

  He punched a complicated combination into the lock on the door of the huge rig. Then he asked us to wait outside while he checked in with his charges.

  Finally he opened the door and ushered us inside. The front of the rig was filled with standard mobile-home type decor—built-in furniture, a loft for extra sleeping. But halfway back, a heavy-duty cage wall divided the room into two medium-size ones. Inside, two beautiful cougars lounged on plush cots in their own rooms. They were the color of caffe latte, and they wrinkled their noses high in the air when we approached.

  “Kaia . . . Thunder . . . these are our friends,” Jake said to the cats in a soft voice. “Be nice.”

  One of the lions yawned, and the other reached around to wash her shoulder with a long undulating tongue. The yawner then walked to the front of the cage and rubbed his cheek against the metal. I could hear him purring like a chainsaw as Jake went over to scratch the creamy-tan head.

  “They’re so beautiful,” Bess whispered.

  “Kaia is the star,” Jake told us. She looked the part, grooming herself on the cot. “Thunder here is her stand-in. I raised their mom, and I’ve had these two since they were born. They’re my buddies, right, fella?”

  Thunder’s purr echoed around the room. “We’d best go now,” Jake said. “My stars here need their beauty sleep.” He pushed some treats into their cages, and then ushered us out of the rig. He took us around to the back of the trailer, where he had connected a large cage. “I take them out here every day for exercise and training,” he said.

  I thanked Jake for the tour, and Bess, George, and I walked back to the main part of the compound. I took Bess over to Rita’s trailer so she could check in, but there was no one there. Then we went to the mess hall. It was late, but the chef was puttering around in the cozy coffee bar in the back corner.

  Over coffee and brownies, I told Bess and George about the rumors I’d heard from the wardrobe and makeup crews. Then I asked George about the disabled computers.

  “It was a thorough job,” she said. “Every machine in the place was shot.”

  “This production seems to be having a lot of trouble getting off the ground. We’ve had an attack skunk, a computer outage, and one of the top tradesmen just walked out. Is this all just bad luck? Or is someone trying to stop this movie before it even gets started?” I asked.

  “So we have the same old questions we always have with a mystery,” Bess said. “Who would do such a thing? And why? I’m glad I’m on the payroll now. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.”

  “Me too,” George said. “I should have more information for you tomorrow, Nancy. But I just don’t get what anyone would have to gain by sabotaging this film. It isn’t exactly a Hollywood blockbuster. Why would anyone want this movie squelched?”

  George thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s the Rackham brothers,” she mused. “They don’t want anyone to know the true story . . . so they’re haunting the compound!”

  We were all quiet for a few minutes, each of us in her own thoughts as we sipped our coffee. Then a chilling murmur echoed around the metal walls.

  “Whooooooooooooo,” a voice moaned from the shadows across the room. “Go awaaaaaaaay. Don’t tell our storrrrrrrry.”

  I couldn’t help it—I jumped. We all did. It was so dark in the mess hall except for our corner. But after the initial shock, I knew who it was.

  “Okay, guys, you’re busted,” I called to the shadows. “Come on out.”

  Luke and Ben Alvarez strolled over to join us. “We almost gave up waiting for our tour of River Heights,” Ben said. “I’m glad we found you. And the more the merrier,” he added, smiling at George and grabbing the seat next to her.

  “Ben and Luke Alvarez, these are my friends George Fayne and Bess Marvin,” I said. “George is getting the computers back on line, and Bess is filling in for the carpenter chief who walked out.”

  “Hel-lo,” Luke said, putting his coffee down and pulling his chair closer to Bess. “We haven’t met, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?” He rested his chin on his hand and flashed a dazzling movie star grin.

  “Does that line usually work for you?” she asked with a friendly smile.

  “Sometimes,” he said. “How about this one: I have a little beach house back home. I like to sit on the deck and look at the ocean on a cloudy
day. And your eyes are the exact color of the water.”

  “That’s definitely better,” Bess said with a special sparkle in her blue eyes.

  “So are we going to hit the River Heights nightlife, or what?” Ben asked.

  “It’s pretty late,” Bess said, “and I have to report in really early tomorrow. Maybe we could take a rain check, and try for—”

  Crrrrrrrk! Zzzzzzzzzzp! Ssssssssssspt!

  Weird noises interrupted Bess, and the lights in the coffee bar flickered.

  “What’s going on?” the chef yelled from the kitchen. “My stove is crackling.”

  “It’s not just in here,” I called back, hurrying to the window. “The security lights outside are flickering too.”

  Ominous pops and crackles resounded in the mess hall, and the lights dimmed down to blackness. One by one, like dominos falling, the lights in the kitchen sparked one by one, and went out. A whirring noise purred through the air, then grew louder.

  “What’s happening, Nancy?” Bess asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think we should take cover. And stay away from the lights. “We raced away from the mess hall to a sheltered spot behind the office trailer. As I peered around our refuge, I saw a large bolt of blue lightning leap between the security lights, blanking out each one as it hit. For an instant it was dead quiet. With a sizzle and a whoosh of air, everything went black.

  Camera!

  I smell fire!” George yelled. “It’s the soundstage—the soundstage is on fire!”

  “It might be the generator—it’s in a semi behind the soundstage,” I said, dialing 911 on my cell.

  George, Bess, the Alvarez brothers, and I joined the others who were still in the compound and ran to the soundstage building. Jane Brandon and a couple of men toted fire extinguishers. It looked like I had guessed right—scary noises popped and crackled from inside the semi behind the soundstage.

  As we got closer to the truck, my nose filled with that prickly smell of an electrical fire. Several people were trying to get inside the semi, but the huge doors on the side of the rig were padlocked. As we heard the fire engine sirens approaching, Jane fumbled with the padlocked door, and the extinguishers shot a circle of foam on the ground around the semi.