Lights, Camera Murder! by J T Dawson

Author:J T Dawson [Dawson, J T]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Private Detective
Publisher: McGovern Books
Published: 2016-08-03T04:00:00+00:00

*****

As Flint drove away Tori walked into a lobby designed with furnishings that, to her shock, were cheesy and cheap. A brown shag rug lined the floor, ugly against the dark yellow walls decorated with artwork that came from the hands of a drunk hippie. The smell of cigar smoke dominated the air. And the worst part, she thought, was the gray business suit she’d had to borrow from Melinda. It fit her body like a tired glove and made her feel like a frump.

“Can I help you?” an older woman with dark gray hair asked Tori in a hoarse voice.

Tori watched her work on putting away a filthy cigarette. Holding back a cough, she put on a polite smile. “The agency sent me,” she said, presenting a work card.

Sitting in a gray cushioned chair, the old woman rolled her eyes, leaned forward and snatched the card away from Tori. “Oh, yes, you're here to replace the girl working for Mr. Wilson,” she said in a bored voice.

Tori carefully eyed the older woman's brown shirt and heavy gray dress. She appeared to be a hippie that was trapped in a decaying body.

“Well, a girl's gotta make a living,” Tori said.

The old woman almost gagged at Tori's remark. “Listen, just go on back, sit your butt down, answer a few calls, take a few messages, and file your nails.” She tossed the work card back at her. “I'll call the agency and let them know you're here.”

Tori scrambled to pick the work card up from the floor where it had fallen. Looking to her left and then to her right, she saw a door at the end of the wooden counter. “Through that door?”

“Go through the door,” the old woman growled at Tori as she took a puff on her new cigarette. “Hallway leads to a locked door. When you get there, press the button on the door and I'll buzz you in. Go into the reception area, sit down, don't touch anything, and take a few calls.”

“Is Mr. Wilson here?” Tori asked, putting on a fake, excited, voice. “Oh, I've heard--”

“Listen,” the old woman snapped at Tori, blowing cigarette smoke from her nose, “if you think you're the first person to come here and try to romance Mr. Wilson because you believe he'll make you into the next big star, you have another think coming. I've been working for Mr. Wilson for over thirty years. I know the man and I've seen him boot out your kind, so if you want your job, get those stars out of your eyes.”

“So here's not here then?” Tori asked, pretending to be disappointed.

“No, and he won't be here the rest of the day, either.”

Tori made a sad face for show, then walked into the hallway, which was just as cheesy as the lobby. It was long, lined with an ugly brown tile. Walking past one door and then another, Tori began to hum to herself as she imagined what it would be like to be a star—to really be a star—and to live in a fancy mansion like Lila Crastdale.

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