Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (e book reader android .TXT) 📗

roped off with crime scene tape, but I pushed that aside and unlocked the door.

We stepped into the darkened studio, and I flipped on a bay of light switches. With buzzes and flickers, the room lit up with fluorescent bulbs. The floor was smooth gray concrete, and a half built soundstage sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by intricate looking camera equipment. I stepped into the middle of the set and looked around at the period living room set with a Union Jack flag on the back wall.

“I guess this was supposed to be for Gretchen and John’s opening scene,” AJ mused as she looked around, “but the murder happened in the office.”

I nodded and slowly walked through the set. “We’re looking for anything that might seem out of sorts.”

“The American Revolution set in the 1920’s?” she remarked sarcastically. “How could you tell?”

I cocked my head in agreement and examined the set pieces. Couches, a coffee table, a record player, a bookshelf with a fake book laminate … everything seemed to be in order.

“Take pictures of everything,” I instructed AJ, and she started snapping away.

I didn’t know if any of it was relevant, but we didn’t know exactly what we were looking for, so we didn’t know what we weren’t looking for either.

“Look at this gun,” AJ said as she picked up a World War I era revolver.

“The Count must have brought it in for show and tell,” I mused.

“This thing is badass,” she said and mimed shooting it. “I feel like a mobster just holding it.”

I would have laughed if we weren’t in the middle of a murder scene.

We crossed the massive empty floor to the office wing of the studio.

“I guess all the workers are gone,” AJ said.

“I would guess so,” I agreed. “Without the boss to write the checks, I guess the question of staffing solves itself.”

After a fruitless detour involving a couple of empty offices, we finally ended at Jerry’s office, the official scene of the crime.

Jerry’s office was everything I would have expected from Jerry. It was a large room, with a cheap L shaped desk with a full credenza. Wires and cords were laid out in the empty spaces where computers must have been.

“I guess the police have already confiscated any computers he had in here,” I remarked.

“I would imagine,” she said. “Calendars, contacts, e-mails whatever.”

The entire rest of the office was completely covered in papers. Stacks upon stacks of papers everywhere. The floor was filled with file boxes full of paper, too.

“You know what this is?” I said to AJ. “This is what purgatory looks like for secretaries.”

She laughed and then clicked away with the camera.

I almost tripped over a box of videotapes under a table and glanced through them to find anything of note. AJ snapped a few photos, and I kept looking.

“So,” I said, “according to the police report, Jerry was found laying here.”

I pointed to a white chalk line on the carpet, and a corresponding bloodstain and photographed from every angle.

“And the method of death was … ” she trailed off as she looked around.

“They said the suspect, Dumont,” I said, “grabbed a marble bust off a shelf and bludgeoned him to death.”

We glanced around the office to see if there was a space where a bust could have recently been removed. It was hard to find anything conclusive, though.

I looked around the office more and sifted through some of the paperwork. Half-written screenplays, drafts of screenplays, film schedules, annotated camera schedules, call sheets, and scrawled blocking diagrams littered the room.

I picked up one screenplay draft and flipped through it. It was about two top of the world rock stars, both in love with this strikingly beautiful Persian woman. It was actually quite an interesting story from the brief skim I gave it.

“Jerry was a bit of a romantic,” I noted as I set the script down. “Who would have thought?”

“I can’t find anything out of order here the police haven’t already found,” AJ said.

At that moment, we heard a noise in the hallway, and we both started. Then we very carefully edged toward the source of the noise.

“Hello?” I called out.

“Hey there,” a voice came from the darkness. Then the figure came into the full light.

“Jesus, Horace,” I grumbled. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry about that, I didn’t expect anyone to be in here either,” he chuckled. “Henry, AJ, what are you guys doing here?”

“We just wanted to take some photos,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

Horace shrugged. “Jerry’s assistant said I could have any props and costumes for my theatre. So, I just thought I’d stop by and see what was worth taking. What’s to take photos of?”

“We don’t think The Count killed Jerry,” AJ blurted. “There’s not enough evidence, and you of all people know how quick the police are on these things.”

Horace snorted. “I do know that. I don’t think he killed Jerry, either. Alfred’s kind of a wussy man, and I know every man’s got his breaking point, but I just don’t think he has it in him.”

“What do you think happened?” AJ asked.

“Who knows?” Horace shrugged. “Jerry had lots of enemies. It could have been anybody.

“Really?” I said. “Like who?”

“Oh,” he hummed and shook his head. “Nobody liked him. If you stood out on the street, and threw a rock, you’d probably hit somebody who hated Jerry Steele.”

“Specifically who?” I pressed.

“Well,” he mused as he scratched his head. “Let’s see … like, Jake, or Billy, or Alton, or Mikhail, or his kid Makayla, or Smokey, or Jeff, or Crazy Eyed Bob, or the other Bob or--”

“Wait, wait,” I interrupted. “Slow down. Who are all these people?”

“He used to be a