Vertigo Effect: The Eighth Jonathan Shade Novel Read online

  “News to me. This is my first day on set. I’ll be a background player in the office tomorrow. What about you?”

  “Stunts,” I said. “Just landed the job.”

  “Shouldn’t you be with the second unit?”

  “I’m off today. Got a meeting with one of the actors I’m doubling in a bit, though.”

  “You guys are crazy. Jumping off buildings, riding on the hoods of cars, getting thrown from moving busses. Too dangerous for my ass.”

  “Hey,” I said. “It’s a living.”

  “Not for your colleague.”

  “True that.”

  I excused myself because Bill was walking off the set. I trotted over to catch him.

  “Mr. Dolan,” I said.

  He turned. “Help you?”

  “I’m Jonathan Easton.”

  He nodded and shook my hand. “Ah, Angela told me you were coming. We can talk in my trailer.”

  I followed him to an RV parked in a line with others. He limped a bit.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “I’m fine. Just an accident filming a fight scene last night. Got cut by a knife. It was supposed to be rubber. My fault, though. I zigged when I should have zagged and the stunt guy cut my leg when I went in for a kick. The cut was minor, but my thigh is bruised from the impact with his elbow. No big.”

  Meghan ran up to us before he could open the door. “Bill,” she said.

  He turned to face her, keeping on hand on the door. “What now?” he asked.

  “Stop stepping on my lines,” she said.

  “Say what?”

  “Stop stepping on my lines. I don’t have much to do but spout exposition, but I want people to hear me.”

  “Cole doesn’t respect Tess at this point in the movie. She hasn’t proven herself yet. He’s not going to wait for her to finish talking before he jumps in.”

  “I hate doing action movies. We don’t get time for rehearsals.”

  “You want to run lines later? We can do that. But for these scenes early on, Cole is going to be pushy and disrespectful of Tess. Later on, after the Boston scene, he’ll respect her because she’ll have shown herself capable in the field.”

  “You should have told me you were going to do that.”

  “More fun this way. Keeps the performance fresh. You were pissed.”

  “Damn right I was.”

  “That will show in the performance too. I did you a solid.”

  “I can play subtext,” she said.

  “I know you can. I saw you in Any Last Requests. You brought a tear to my eye with the eulogy scene. That was Oscar caliber acting.”

  She brightened. “You think?”

  “I do, and you got robbed when they didn’t nominate you, but this isn’t a drama. It’s an action flick, and Guy won’t give you a chance to play subtext on a walk-and-talk scene. He’ll use the master shots and steadycam to keep things moving. You won’t get a close-up in there unless they use the coverage to cover a cut line of dialogue. Trust me, my way works better. You cool?”

  She sighed. “I guess.”

  “Great. See you on set. I gotta talk to this guy.” He hooked a thumb in my direction.

  “All right,” she said, then met my eyes. She narrowed her gaze for a moment, smiled, and wandered off.

  “Fucking actresses,” he said. “Bat-shit crazy. Every last one of them. You ever date an actress?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Will you ever do it again?”

  “Maybe.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, the crazy ones are best in the sack. Come on in.”

  His trailer was small, but comfortable. He led me to the back where a round bench curved behind a built-in table. Depressions to hold glasses were cut into the top. A script with highlights and notes sat open on the bench.

  “You want something to drink?” he asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “Cool.” He grabbed a bottle of water from a small refrigerator and plopped down on the bench. “Angela convince you Terrell was murdered?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Me neither,” he said. “Some fucked up shit, though. Poor guy.”

  “I understand you worked with him on several movies.”

  He nodded. “We had the same build, and he could mimic my mannerisms while doing stunt work. That’s a nice touch, you know. Audience thinks it’s me up on the screen making the jumps or the kicks. Helps sell the movie. I met him a couple years back. We were staying in the same apartment complex. Before I landed Blind Witness. He did a few stunts doubling Denzel.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yeah, he thought he was the shit.”

  “Denzel is the shit,” I said.

  “Terrell thought Terrell was the shit, not Denzel.”

  “I know,” I said. “I was making a joke.”

  “Don’t do that, man. You ain’t funny.”

  “Granted, that wasn’t A-list material, but—”

  He shook his head. “Just don’t.”

  I shrugged. “Do you know anyone here who might have wanted Terrell dead?”

  “I thought you said you didn’t believe Angela.”

  “I still have to go through the motions to get paid,” I said.

  “Right. No, I can’t see why anyone would want Terrell dead. Fired, sure. Most of the folks who knew him didn’t much care for him. He and my assistant got into it a few days before we started filming.”

  “I should probably talk to your assistant,” I said.

  He shook his head. “You’d have to go to L.A.”

  “Your assistant isn’t here?”

  “I fired him after his fight with Terrell, so I’m currently between assistants.”

  “Getting fired might give him a motive,” I said.

  Bill laughed. “Frankie weighs ninety-eight pounds soaking wet. Besides, he lucked into a producing gig. He’s working on putting a picture together with Ben Affleck. He wants me to read the script, and said Terrell could do stunts if the picture gets greenlit. No animosity there.”

  “You know if any of the crew is into witchcraft?”

  “Witchcraft?” he asked. “I told you not to try comedy. You really suck at it.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  “With witchcraft.”

  I nodded. “There was a hex bag on the set.”

  “What the hell you talking about, man? We’re making an action flick, not a horror movie.”

  “I know, but has anyone mentioned witchcraft or magic on set?”

  “Couple of crew members talk about Puff the Magic Dragon, but that’s their way of saying weed.”

  “Did you hang out with Terrell at all?”

  “Not really. We worked together with the fight choreographer every day. Gotta figure out which moves I can do myself and when we need to have him double me. Guess we’ll need a new brother for that now.”

  “I guess,” I said. “Was Terrell sleeping with anyone?”

  “Besides Angela?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not that he told me, but you might talk to Trudy about that. Those two were an item for a few years until she wised up and dumped his ass.”

  “I’ll talk to her tonight,” I said.

  “Cool. All right, man, I gotta run some lines now. Got some serious exposition I couldn’t pawn off on one of the other actors. Some of this shit is a mouthful.”

  “No doubt,” I said.

  “You read the script?”

  I nodded. “Not bad. Should be a fun movie.”

  “Yeah, this is the third time I’ve landed a script Will Smith passed on.”

  “He hasn’t made good choices lately. After Earth sucked balls, and Focus needed some.”

  “He was good in Concussion.”

  “I haven’t seen it, but it tanked at the box office.”

  “Good thing he’s got Bad Boys 3 and 4 on the docket. I’m kinda hoping we can turn Cole Mitchell into a franchise for me.”

  “Maybe y
ou will, and if not, maybe it can be a TV series. CIRG could be the next NCIS.”

  “I oughta pitch that to Netflix.”

  “There you go,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Dolan.”

  “Oh, we’re friends now, Jack. You can call me Bill.”

  Jack? Yeah, I guess we were close friends. I didn’t bother to correct him. I just gave him a fist bump and left him to work on his next scene.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  My next meeting was with Jean Fournier, the second unit director. I caught a ride out to the location where he was blocking out a terrorist raid on an island. We weren’t on an island, though. We were simply on a private beach in Florida. My driver dropped me off on the road behind a country club.

  “They’re down there,” he said nodding toward the beach.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

  He sped off before I could ask what he meant.

  As I crested a ridge, I caught a good view of the beach below. Waves crashed on the shore. The sand was practically white, and the sea was a deep blue. Clouds in the distance promised rain, but hey, that was Miami in August. If you want rain, wait a few minutes. It would have made for a nice postcard if not for the big crew with jib cams, and equipment piled in yellow cases everywhere. A small wooden building stood in a field between me and the beach. There, a short, angry Frenchman barked orders as he paced the area. He held his hands out before him, thumbs at right angles to his fingers as if picturing a movie screen. He panned right and left, planning shots.

  I jogged down the hill past the building. The smell of sea salt hung in the air.

  Fournier pointed at a bunch of hotels visible in the distance. “Who chose this location? We can’t shoot in this direction without seeing the damn hotels, and at night they’ll be lit up like a fucking Christmas tree!”

  Several men and women holding clipboards and pens jotted notes and scattered around him trying to stay out of his way as he moved here and there.

  “All right, we can start with a steadycam shot up there.” He pointed at me. “What are you doing here? This is a private fucking beach!”

  “Jonathan Easton,” I said. “Reporting for duty.”

  “I don’t give a shit who you are. David, throw that asshole out of here.”

  “I’m one of your stunt men,” I said.

  “I don’t care if you’re the fucking President of the United States of America smoking a bong on Easter Island. Get the fuck out of my shot.”

  “You aren’t filming.”

  “David, get him out of here. Now! He’s messing with my mental state.”

  A young man with a clipboard trotted over to meet me half way. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “We’re working here. We have five pages of action to shoot tonight and Mr. Fournier needs to concentrate.”

  “Well, I need to have a little chat with Mr. Fournier,” I said.

  “He doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s blocking.”

  “And I don’t like being cussed at,” I said.

  I pushed past David and kept moving toward Fournier. The clipboard clan stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed as I approached. I guess disturbing the Master was simply not done.

  “Fournier,” I said. “When you have a minute, I need to talk to you.”

  “David, you let that asshole through?”

  “Sorry, sir,” David said from behind me.

  “”You’re fucking fired!”

  “It’s not his fault,” I said.

  “Then you’re fired.” He pointed his finger in my face.

  I grabbed his finger and bent it backward. Fournier went to the sand on one knee and squawked in pain.

  “It’s not polite to point,” I said. I looked at the clipboard clan. “You guys go take a break. I need your boss for a few minutes.”

  They looked uncertain.

  “Go!” I shouted.

  They jumped back like skittish dogs, then ran off toward the rest of the crew.

  “Send Markus!” Fournier screamed.

  I let go of his finger. “Sorry about hurting you,” I said. “Can we start over?”

  Spittle flew from his mouth as he pushed himself to his feet. “You’re gonna fucking pay for this, you—”

  I slapped his face. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to sting.

  He froze and his eyes crossed for a second. Then he grabbed his cheek and bent over. “That’s assault!”

  I glanced toward the crew. David stood talking to a big musclebound man, and pointed in my direction. The big guy handed a box to David then started moving toward me.

  Great.

  “Mr. Fournier, I’m a new member of the stunt team, but Angela asked me to look into what happened to Terrell Williams, and I was under the impression you were cool with that.”

  “Terrell’s death was an accident, you fuck,” he said.

  “That’s how it looks to me, too,” I said.

  “So why are you wasting my time?”

  “Going through the motions. That’s all.”

  “Fuck you and your motions,” he said.

  Markus approached us. “Is there a problem here?”

  “No problem at all,” I said.

  “This asshole needs a lesson in respect,” Fournier said.

  Markus stepped closer, trying to intimidate me with his size. I didn’t bother looking at him. I kept him in my peripheral vision, of course, but I kept my gaze on Fournier. “Who do I check in with to get my schedule?” I asked.

  “I’m not working with you,” Fournier said.

  “That’s not your decision,” I said. It started to sprinkle, and I knew the rain would intensify before too long, so I wanted to get back to the hotel before then.

  “Markus, get rid of this guy, and don’t be gentle.”

  “Time for you to go,” Markus said and reached for me.

  His hand closed on empty air. I moved just enough to avoid him. I wanted to leave, yes, but I wasn’t going to be forced away. “I’m part of the crew, but due to my contract negotiations, you don’t have the power to fire me.”

  Markus reached for me again. This time I slapped his hand aside, and directed my gaze at him. I gave him a bored look. “You’ll need to wait your turn,” I said calmly.

  He had me by a good hundred pounds and he knew it, but he saw no fear in my eyes, and to his credit he realized that meant something. He took a step back to give me my space, and probably to give himself more time to react should I do something violent.

  “Get rid of him, Markus,” Fournier said, wiping away raindrops that splashed on his forehead.

  “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “It’s time for me to go before the sky opens up. I’m sure I’ll see you on set in the next few days. Who knows, maybe even tonight.” I gave Markus a nod, turned and walked away.

  “Don’t come back here,” Fournier said, “or I’ll kick your sorry ass myself.”

  I grinned. It wasn’t worth the effort to call him on his threat. Little dogs bark at big dogs, but big dogs can ignore most threat displays. At a certain point, though, a beat down could be required.

  ***

  The rain stopped as I reached the hotel. I loved the smell of the wet pavement, and I appreciated the slight drop in temperature taking us from the low nineties to the mid-eighties. A few minutes later, I was back in my room, and I made a quick phone call to Brenda. She answered on the first ring. “Hey, handsome,” she said.

  “Were you waiting for my call?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Actually, I was just about to order a pizza, but your call came in as soon as I picked up the phone.”

  “It’s good to hear your voice, but I’d rather feel your touch.”

  “You and me both,” she said. “But I know that’s not why you called.”

  “Cutting me off? You must be hungry.”

  “Famished.”

  “All right, I just want to know if the second unit director has the power to fire me.�
�

  “Are you being your usual charming self?”

  “We had words.”

  “Did you hit him?”

  “Not hard.”

  She laughed. “You’re something else. The contract I set up for you is through one of the producers. His name is Carter Briggs, and he’s aware of why you’re there. You should have some leeway, but don’t be a dick and no one will want to fire you.”

  “But I am a dick.”

  “No,” she said. “You have a dick.”

  “You just want me for my body.”

  Esther poked her head through the wall while I was on the phone, then backed out. When I hung up, she stepped through the wall and frowned at me.

  “What?” I said.

  “Shouldn’t you be focused on the case and not on setting up another session in a struggle buggy?”

  “I was talking to Brenda.”

  “I know that.”

  “Sorry, Esther.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, Jonathan. I feel like a sap. I know you and that Jane want some action, but it makes me all grungy.”

  “You don’t look dirty to me.”

  “Grungy. Envious. More like jealous, truth be told.”

  “I’ll try to be more discreet.”

  “My fault,” she said. “I popped into your room unannounced.”

  “I wasn’t going to point that out.”

  She laughed. “It’s all berries. Just wanted to tell you I saw the lead actress coming out of the lead actor’s trailer.”

  “And you think they were getting some action?”

  “No. She looked like she’d worked up a lather, but not the good kind.”

  “She was pissed about him stepping on her lines earlier,” I said. “Probably nothing, but I’ll make a note. Thanks, Esther.”

  “You want me to keep tabs on anyone?”

  “How’s Kelly doing?”

  “I haven’t seen her.”

  “Check in on her. I think the death of that deputy hit her harder than she cares to admit.”

  “She’s different from our Kelly.”

  I nodded. “Yes, she is.”

  My phone rang. Angela. It was time to go see the body.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It’s never fun going to a morgue. Terrell’s body was stored in refrigeration while they awaited the decision about whether or not to do an autopsy. Angela went with me, but did not go into the room. She couldn’t face seeing the body again. I understood. She’d been in love with the man, and it can be disconcerting to see the empty shell that used to house the consciousness of a loved one. The big problem is that in death, they don’t look like they’re sleeping. I suspect it’s at least partly due to the lack of breathing. The gentle rise and fall of a chest might not be noticeable when it’s there, but when it’s absent, it’s obvious on a subconscious level. In addition, the condition of the skin was a giveaway with the waxiness and pallor.