dailies.”
“I’d love that,” she said.
And down, girl, Declan added. He couldn’t believe how annoyed he was getting. It couldn’t be jealousy, because he didn’t get jealous. Did he?
The hair and makeup trailer was a haven of warmth against the canyon air. The makeup artist was a woman named Melanie, perfectly made up but dressed for night shooting in jeans, hiking boots and a down jacket. She was putting a lip line on a girl no one bothered to introduce, but who looked eerily like Gina Santoro. The hairdresser was Hervé, a diminutive man with a goatee and hair an improbable shade of gold. Declan recognized that both Melanie and Hervé were vampires. Did Sailor?
She did. After Gary had made the introductions, Sailor turned to Declan and said sweetly, “Maybe this would be a good time for you to discuss your business proposition with Gary?”
“My what?”
“You know,” she said, “the thing.”
She looked right at him and let him read her thought: Get Gary out of here so I can talk to these two without their boss listening. He glanced at Gary, who was looking at him eagerly, probably having visions of getting his next film project fully funded.
“’Scuse me, Mr. Kiel,” Pete said, sticking his head into the trailer. “You’re needed on set. And we’ll be using the Gina double.”
Gary stood. “Back to work. Walk with me, Declan. We can talk.”
“No, it’s a longer conversation than you have time for now,” Declan said, ignoring Sailor’s insistent looks. “We’ll have lunch next week.”
“Sailor, here’s my card,” Gary said, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket. “Stick around if you can. We have dinner on set around 4:00 a.m. If you can’t stay, give me a call, I’d like to keep in touch.”
I’m sure you would, Declan thought, watching Sailor tuck the card into the back pocket of her jeans.
When Gary and the Gina double left the trailer, Sailor turned to Hervé and Melanie. “I know you guys are crazy busy, so I’ll be quick. I’m Sailor Gryffald, I’m the Canyon Keeper of the Elven, and I’m trying to figure out what happened to Gina and Charlotte Messenger, and the other two Elven women who died.”
“You’re not a writer?” Hervé said, looking confused.
“That was for Gary’s benefit, Hervé.” Melanie closed the trailer door, which a gust of wind had blown open. “Okay, you’re an Elven Keeper. Who’s this guy?”
Hervé spoke up. “That’s Declan Wainwright.”
“Oh, right,” Melanie said. “I thought you looked familiar. Shifter, right?”
“Shifter Keeper,” he said.
“I know you don’t know us,” Sailor said, “but I know Gina was close to you.”
“I’m just a makeup artist,” Melanie said.
Sailor sighed. “Oh, please. She trusted you with her face, and she had the face of the decade. She spent every workday of the past five years with you and Hervé, going back to Apples and Oranges. I checked credits. She wouldn’t work without you.”
“So she trusted us,” Melanie said. “But why would we trust you? I’ve never heard of you.”
“I’m new. My uncle is Piers Gryffald, recent Canyon Keeper of the vamps, and my godfather is Darius Simonides. Sorry to name-drop, but I don’t have many Keeper credentials of my own yet. I’m working on it.”
Melanie nodded. Declan recognized the Hollywood veneer of politeness that hid a vast reservoir of ice, but at least she was thawing.
“Darius Simonides?” Hervé repeated. “The magic words. Ask me anything.”
“Have the cops talked to you?” Sailor asked.
He sniffed. “Barely. We’re below the line, darling.” Meaning, Declan knew, that their pay grade was low and their status along with it. “It didn’t occur to them that we knew her better than anyone. Plus, we weren’t on set when it happened. We’d already gone home when Transpo found her body.”
“When was that?” Sailor asked.
“An hour after wrap. They went to turn off lights and power down the trailer, thinking she’d gone home.” A catch in his throat. “There she was. Ghastly.”
Sailor glanced at Melanie, who had busied herself cleaning makeup brushes. “I bet you have theories about what happened,” she said.
“Darling,” Hervé said, “we talk of nothing else.”
Melanie shot him a look. “Gina never liked Keepers, especially Elven Keepers.”
“Then forget I’m a Keeper,” Sailor said. “I’m an actress, so I know that you weren’t ‘below the line’ to Gina. You were shrink, friend, spiritual adviser.”
“Yeah, were. We were all those things,” Hervé said. “Not anymore.”
“Well, who did the cops talk to? The director? Producer? Was she even friends with the director?”
“That moron?” Melanie asked. “She was sorry she ever approved