A Shot To Die For by Libby Fischer Hellmann

Author:Libby Fischer Hellmann
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: An Ellie Foreman Mystery
Publisher: Libby Fischer Hellmann
Published: 2012-06-24T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

A few days later, Mac and I went back with the crew to the airstrip to shoot pickups. We’d rented a car mount to film a traveling shot down the runway. Before we set up, Mac dropped me off at the Lodge’s offices to check in. They apologized again for our earlier difficulty and said they’d discussed it with the police. They admitted they didn’t have anyone monitoring the airstrip but couldn’t guarantee when there might be an occasional take-off or landing. They were working on the problem, though.

I met the crew at the hangar. It was late afternoon and the airstrip looked deserted. I spotted the Cessna and two other planes inside, but no one—and, more significantly, no planes—interrupted our shoot. Aside from a bump or two due to the runway’s patchy surface, I was pleased with the shots. Hank probably could smooth out the bumps in post, even speed up the motion so it looked like a plane taking off.

I was watching Mac and the crew break down the camera, thinking how we’d edit the sequence, when it came to me. “Of course!” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”

“Excuse me?” Mac looked up. “You know what we need?”

“What?”

“An aerial.”

Mac frowned. “An aerial?”

“For the opening of the show. Think about it. We’re introducing the Land of Lodge. What better way to do it than with an aerial of the compound? We start wide: We see Lake Geneva, the lake, the roads, the town. Then we slowly zoom in—or maybe cut to a series of shots, each one closer and closer—until we dissolve to a ground shot.”

“You mean like those shots of the earth from space, and then you move closer and closer and you finally zoom in on the man walking down Main Street?”

I cocked my head. “Well, maybe not that grandiose, but yeah.”

Mac considered it. “It could work.”

I beamed, grateful for Mac’s approval, however understated. He looked around. His gaze stopped at the hangar. “You know anyone with a plane?”

“Um…actually, I thought maybe you might be able to scare one up through your uncle.”

“I told you. We haven’t spoken in years.”

“It was just a thought.” I paused. “Maybe the Lodge can recommend someone.”

“I have another—”

The sudden whine of an engine cut through the air. I jumped at the sound, but it wasn’t a plane. A green pickup was heading down the access road. It veered onto the tarmac and swerved to a stop. Luke Sutton slid out and headed over to the hangar.

Mac turned around. “What’s that they say about prayers being answered?”

I stared at the truck.

“You’re not still pissed about the other day, are you?”

“He drives a green pickup.”

“And I drive a blue Expedition.”

“The shooter in all three sniper attacks drove a green pickup.”

“Ellie,” Mac said with a trace of scorn, “get over it. There are hundreds—no thousands—of green pickups in the world.” Luke let himself in a small door on the side of the hangar building. Mac started walking toward the hangar. “You wouldn’t dare,” I called after him.

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