which was, in essence, a remake of Hitchcock’s Rear Window.”
Sean frowned. “A remake of the movie—and Jenny was killed in front of the tableau?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not just ironic,” he told her. “That sounds intentional. And it changes everything.”
“The original movie was filmed well over half a century ago. What could this have to do with the movie we’re making now?”
“Everything,” he said curtly. “It could be a motive for murder. And lockdown—that’s incredibly important, too. Lockdown should eliminate anyone who isn’t close to the studio.”
Madison spoke through clenched jaws. She wasn’t in the FBI or the police; she wasn’t required to understand motive and investigation. “Even when we’re not in lockdown, the curious can’t just wander in. I have to have permission to bring in a guest on a regular day, and I wouldn’t have been given permission at all now.”
“Well, there’s permission, and there’s giving yourself permission by dodging the rules. On a regular day, someone could try to slip someone else in.”
“What about the security cameras, Sean? People here don’t want to risk their jobs.”
“Of course not. Still…”
He walked toward the climate-controlled room, but looked through the windows for a moment, and never tried the door. He seemed uninterested.
“Where’s your workstation?” he asked her.
Her work area was a few feet from the climate-controlled area. She pointed it out to him, and he went over to it.
It seemed bizarre that everything was just where she’d left it on Friday night. There were pieces of the leather coat she’d chosen for the costume of actor Oliver Marshall, playing antihero Sam Stone in the new movie.
“I saw the movie as a kid. But refresh me,” Sean said.
What did this have to do with the murder?
“In a nutshell? There are a series of murders—people ripped to shreds by something in the night. Then an incredibly wealthy philanthropist with a gorgeous young wife is found murdered in a similar manner in his Egyptian Museum. The cops want to arrest the wife, so she goes to Sam Stone. Various clues suggest she’s the murderer, but she denies it. The movie is great because it leaves the audience wondering—was something supernatural happening, or could it all be explained? The Egyptian mummy supposedly sent from the Department of Antiquities turns out to be a priest heading an ancient cult and in the end, needless to say, he proves to be the murderer. Sam Stone falls in love with the wife—Dianna Breen—but she dies at the hand of the priest before she’s proven innocent.”
“Who’s playing Sam Stone?” Sean asked.
“Oliver Marshall.”
“Hmm. How is he to work with?”
“He’s fine. He’s always in the tabloids for being a party boy, but he’s polite and courteous, shows up for his fittings and works well with everyone behind the scenes. He’s very pleasant and makes everyone at the studio think he’s just one of the gang. I like him.”
“Good to hear. When’s the last time he was in?”
“Friday. I was working on his costume.” She gestured at the fabric on the table. “He was in for fittings. Sam Stone carries concealed weapons, so everything about the costume has to fit perfectly.”
“Those…creatures evoked by the Egyptian priest—what’s his name?” Sean pointed to some of their newest creations, including giant fanged jackals, birds and bizarre giant snakes.
“The priest is Amun Mopat, and yes, they’re for the movie.”
“What will the priest be wearing? Same type of costume as in the film noir?” Sean asked. “And who’s playing him?”
“That role hasn’t been cast yet,” Madison told him. “There’s a mannequin over by the wall with a mock-up of the robe he’ll be wearing. It’s an homage to the original film. Almost exactly the same.”
“Where? Show me.”
Madison walked over to the mannequin that stood behind one of the jackal-like monsters created for the movie.
There was nothing but a plain brown monk’s robe on it.
She looked at Sean as shivers of fear streaked down her spine.
“The robe—it was just a mock-up. But it’s gone,” she said. “I suppose someone might have taken it…. Mike Greenwood could have shown it to someone. I’ll ask Mike and Eddie where it is.”
Sean shook his head. “They won’t know—and the robe isn’t coming back. It’s been used,” he said grimly, “by the killer.” He turned to look at her. “Find that robe, and we’ll be on our way to finding a killer.”
3
“Hey!” Sean touched her cheek. “This is a good thing. Seeing that the robe is gone actually helps. I’m almost astounded that everyone assumes it was Alistair, to tell you the truth. The girl was killed in front of the Sam Stone tableau, the studio is doing a remake, the robe is gone. To me, all of that points to someone with an agenda against the studio or the movie.”
Madison nodded. But she didn’t agree that the robe’s disappearance was a good thing! A killer had been here, where she worked. A killer had used the robe she’d made to sneak onto a tableau or into the tunnel and slice open a young woman’s throat.
Sean turned her to face the construction area. “What are they working on here?” he asked.
“An old Western scaffold.”
“For The Unholy?”
“No, that’s the tail end of our last project—Ways of the West.” She gave herself a mental shake and turned toward the sewing machines and a rack of clothing. “Projects overlap, but you know that. Or sometimes we work on several at the same time. Right now, though, as soon as the scaffolding’s out of here, we’ll be doing nothing but The Unholy. Or…I assume we’ll still be working on it.”
“The world goes on, despite murder,” Sean said. He motioned to the far wall of the construction area. “And there’s the door that leads from the tunnel.”
It wasn’t really a question. She said, “Yes,” anyway.
He walked over but didn’t touch it. Madison followed him and saw powder all over the whitewashed floor nearby. Black powder.
“The police dusted here,” he said.
Madison felt a moment’s discomfort. Her prints were on that door.
“They’ll get a lot of prints,” she said. “Including mine.”
He looked at her, the curl of his lips gentle, slightly amused. “Elimination,”
