The Perfect Disguise (Jessie Hunt #10) - Blake Pierce Page 0,18

became apparent that Trembley was crashing and burning, Jessie stepped forward. Zyskowski glanced at her briefly before resuming his stare-down of Trembley.

“Anton, is it?” she asked politely.

“My friends say Anton,” he said, looking at her with an upturned nose. “Whoever you are, you may say Mr. Zyskowski.”

Off to the side, Detective Bray tensed up. Jessie winked at her. Then she smiled her broadest, fakest smile.

“My name’s Jessie Hunt. And here’s the thing, Anton,” she said, punching hard on his name. “Time may matter very much to you. But you know what matters more to us? The dead body on the floor twenty feet from you. And considering that the body belongs to the leading lady in your film, I would have thought it might matter to you as well.”

“Of course it matters,” he retorted, slightly undone by the clap back. “I never say it doesn’t matter. But I have charge of this picture. Over three hundred jobs depend on me. I cannot only be sad for Corinne. I must think of others working. I must think of studio investment. It is not happy to say but I must be strong so that work can continue, even in death.”

“Well, Anton,” Jessie said, unmoved, “work is going to have to wait until we’re ready to clear the crime scene. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re even able to continue without her.”

She watched as Anton tried to restrain himself, even as his face turned from red to a hue resembling purple.

“Corinne’s scenes were almost done,” he explained. “Remaining ones can have double. Will use CGI if we must. But picture still has four shooting days without her. Those can happen without problems.”

“I’m afraid you won’t be shooting anything else on this soundstage until the crime scene unit has cleared it,” Jessie informed him. “They still need to check various areas for prints and other potential evidence. That may take several more hours. I recommend you shoot scenes that can be completed elsewhere.”

Anton looked like his head might explode.

“All sets are on that stage,” he protested. “I can shoot nothing elsewhere.”

“Not much we can do about that, Anton. But here’s what I propose: you have your people give Detective Bray here a complete list of everybody who was on set last night. We need to talk to all of them. If they’re not already here now, have them come in. We’ll give you a few hours. That will allow CSU to finish their work and my partner and I to check out a few leads. After CSU has cleared the scene and we have access to all your people, you can start shooting again. How does that sound?”

“This will be hundreds of thousands of dollars costing the studio,” Anton griped. “Maybe millions.”

Jessie shrugged amiably.

“Then I suggest you make sure all your people are here, ready to be interviewed. The more prepared you are, the quicker you can forget all about your dead actress and get back to work.”

“I wonder if you have authority for this?” Anton challenged.

The smile Jessie had kept plastered on her face for the entirety of their conversation dropped away.

“Mr. Zyskowski—Anton—rest assured that while I am not a ‘special detective,’ I am most certainly the person in charge. You’d be well advised not to piss me off any more than you already have. So gather your people and wait for us to come back. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ve got work to do.”

CHAPTER NINE

Miller Boatwright’s office was a ten-minute walk across the lot.

They made their way over, leaving Detective Bray to coordinate the timing of interviews with cast and crew later on. Without Paul the security guard to direct them, they got lost twice on the way, but finally found his office in the Fairbanks Building not far from where they’d parked.

As they approached it, Trembley coughed slightly in a way that suggested he was about to broach an uncomfortable subject.

“What is it, Trembley?” Jessie asked, unwilling to wait for him to screw up his courage.

“What? Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something,” she pressed. “Just tell me now so whatever’s on your mind doesn’t weigh on you when we’re talking to Boatwright. I need you focused.”

Trembley seemed to be fighting an internal battle with his better judgment. He finally spoke.

“It’s just that you seem extremely aggressive on this case. I thought Decker wanted to pair us together because you’re more experienced with high-profile cases and more…diplomatic. I think he expected you’d be the one to massage all these egos. But you seem intent on crushing

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