I'm pleased to welcome Rishard to Cozy Up With Kathy. You can find Rishard on the pages of MURDER MOVIE CLUB: MURDER ON A MONDAY by Marcy Blesy. This is the first book in the Monthly Murder Movie Club Mystery series which was released last month.
Hello. My name is Rishard. I’m a 60-year-old man who hopes to have a heck of a lot more life to live. I’ve lived most of that life in Northwoods, Michigan, a beautiful town along the shores of Lake Michigan. One might say I’ve been unlucky in love. Four marriages sounds like a bit, but I’m not giving up hope of finding that perfect mate to spend the rest of my life with. In fact, there’s even someone in the Monthly Murder Movie Club that’s caught my eye, but it’s such a beautiful friendship that Yoly and I have, I don’t know if we should mess it up. Plus, she has no idea I find her special, and she still spends a lot of time talking to Larry, her first husband. He lives on her kitchen table in his urn. It’s tough to compete against that.
I like to stand out. Some say my style is odd, especially Roberta, but her use of nice words is few and far between. Maybe when I’m 75, I’ll be more loose-lipped, too. I hope not, though. I wear a lot of Hawaiian shirts. The brighter, the better. I have a nice assortment of Crocs to pair with my outfits. It’s not the wisest choice of attire during the brutal winters, but I like to think that I add some cheer to those with the winter blues.
I’ve recently found my people in a very odd club that meets at the Northwoods Movie Theater. We are the Monthly Murder Movie Club, though sometimes we meet more than once a month now. We have a shared interest in murder movies. The only rule is that none of us has seen the movie before. Halfway through the movie, Junior or Pamela stop the projector, well, not Junior anymore after his untimely passing in the theater’s lobby. Anyway, while the movie is paused, we gather to discuss our best whodunit theories. We write everything down. Yoly, our unofficial leader, holds on to our theories until the end of the movie. The person closest to figuring out the mystery gets to keep a cool plastic trophy for the month, unless there’s a tie. Then we have to work out the trophy’s custody. I’ve won the trophy a time or two. The last time I won, I tied with Vicki. She wanted to keep her trophy at her beauty salon. She likes to boast, but she means well, so I had to turn it over to her there. She touched up my hair for free.
There’s a new member of our group. April is a single mom who just had her first baby in her 40s. She’s struggling, but she’s smart. I know she will figure things out. Plus, Giana is everyone’s adopted grandchild. I think she is a very lucky baby if you ask me.
All and all, we get along great and have so much fun trying to outwit each other. There are a lot of amazing murder mystery movies out there. What a fun genre! Recently, our movie-watching has taken a pause as some unfortunate real murders crossed the path of our movie club. But have no fear. We’ll solve those mysteries, too.
Murder: best served with popcorn.
That’s the mantra for the members of the Monthly Murder Movie Club at The Northwoods Movie Theater. Every month, this eclectic group of northern Michigan residents gather to watch a murder mystery movie on the big screen. After stopping the projector in the middle of the movie, the members gather to discuss the crime and suspects, each making a whodunit pick before resuming the movie. The hair dresser with the scissors? The jilted lover with poison?
But nothing is normal on this Monday morning when the club members find the ticket-taking popcorn maker John E. Cash in the lobby of the theater, deader than any actor in their beloved movies. Using their unique talents and eccentricities, the Monthly Murder Movie Club members work collectively to solve the crime before the Northwoods Police force does. Members strive to protect the reputation of their beloved theater--and to protect their Monday meetings--because what each member is discovering is that there is so much more to their Monday club than a good old-fashioned murder mystery.
Found family, new friends, and murder investigations!
About Marcy Blesy
Marcy Blesy is the author of over thirty books including the popular cozy mystery series: The Tucson Valley Retirement Community Cozy Mystery Series, a hilarious misadventure in amateur sleuthing. Her adult romance mystery series includes The Secret of Blue Lake and The Secret of Silver Beach, set in Michigan. The Ghost Texter Paranormal Cozy Mystery Series, featuring a sleuthing kindergarten teacher in Michigan was recently released. Children’s books include the best-selling Be the Vet series along with the following early chapter book series: Evie and the Volunteers, Niles and Bradford, Third Grade Outsider, and Hazel, the Clinic Cat.
Marcy enjoys searching for treasures along the shores of Lake Michigan. She's still waiting for the day when she finds a piece of red beach glass.
Marcy is a believer in love and enjoys nothing more than making her readers feel a book more than simply reading it.
BYE BYE BLACKBIRD by Elizabeth Crowens The Second Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery
The Private Investigator office of Babs Norman is overrun with critters,
big dogs, kittens, and birds! While unexpected guests have become the
norm, Babs and her business partner, Guy, are unprepared when a woman falls
into their office-dead. Adding to the confusion Humphrey Bogart enters
with a dead bird. With low funds and an unknown dead woman Babs takes
Bogart's case. As if one dead bird in a canopic jar isn't enough, bird
references and more dead birds start to plague the stars filming The Maltese Falcon. Is someone trying to halt the movie's production, or is something even more sinister at play?
In July of 1941 World War II is raging in Europe, but the United States has not joined the fighting. In the California heat Babs and Guy begin a most unusual case. People are receiving dead birds in odd ways, there are other bird references, plus more than one dead human body. As with the first book in the series a multitude of Hollywood stars inhabit the pages. In this case it's Humphrey Bogart who has the leading role. I love reading about all of the classic film stars and learning more about their personal lives. Some tidbits I knew about, Peter Lorre, some I didn't, Mary Astor, and I enjoyed seeing more of Sydney Greenstreet. The problem, though, is the large volume of characters. It's as if every star remotely involved in Hollywood had to make an appearance.
The mystery was puzzling and the pace consequently slow. It was also a bit bizarre with people being "birded". I certainly didn't like Detective Allgood and was surprised at Babs' dealings with him. Some of the subplots seemed unnecessary, the trip to see her mother, for example. I do like the fact that the book started in July and ended in December, a more realistic timeline for a murder mystery. I love the addition of all of the rescued animals along with the humor they bring. I really liked Chief Crow-Feather and am concerned about Babs' Japanese housemate!
BYE BYE BLACKBIRD highlights The Maltese Falcon in a star studded WWII era mystery combining fact and fiction in a unique tale.
In the summer of 1941, Hollywood heats up again when Humphrey Bogart arrives right after a female corpse with a dead bird stuffed inside her overcoat topples into the office of B. Norman Investigations. While filming The Maltese Falcon, Bogie found a mysterious ancient Egyptian hawk artifact on his doorstep containing a mummified black bird. Someone with dark intentions threatens the main cast, one by one, leaving dead birds, from crows to falcons, as their calling cards.
While more murders pile up, jeopardizing the film from being finished, Bogie hires private eyes Babs Norman and Guy Brandt, infuriating his volatile third wife, Mayo Methot, or Sluggy, as she’s known in some circles. Unraveling the personal lives of Mary Astor, John Huston, Sydney Greenstreet, Elisha Cook, Jr., Peter Lorre, and Jack L. Warner in their quirky, humorous way, the PIs turn the underbelly of Tinseltown upside down to stop the crazed killer from claiming another victim.
Praise for Bye Bye Blackbird:
"No author can seamlessly blend Hollywood history with and engaging mystery yarn better than Elizabeth Crowens. It’s a jaunty tale that could have been lifted from a Warner Bros. screenplay with all the principals from the studio’s famed stock company: The Maltese Falcon, Bogie, Mary Astor, Greenstreet, John Huston, and Jack L. Warner. Fasten your seatbelts for a wild ride through 1940s Hollywood!" ~ Alan K. Rode, film historian and author, Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film
"Crowens does it again with Bye Bye Blackbird. Babs, Brandt, and Bogart make this rocking novel the stuff dreams are made of." ~ Reed Farrel Coleman. New York Times bestselling author of Blind to Midnight
"It’s like someone shook a movie projector and out tumbled Humphrey Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre, and a duo from a struggling PI agency bringing all the lighthearted fun of a 1940’s Hollywood mystery. That someone is Elizabeth Crowens." ~ Tom Straw, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
"A creative twist on The Maltese Falcon: Dead birds show up on doorsteps. Humphrey Bogart assumes the role of a real-life Sam Spade, and two young PIs rescue every oddball animal as they investigate. Even the mogul of a major movie studio is no match for a wisecracking myna bird who sounds like a Warner Brothers cartoon. If you’re a fan of Turner Classic Movies and the Golden Age of Hollywood, Bye Bye Blackbird will be sure to entertain." ~ Robert Dugoni, New York Times bestselling author of The Tracy Crosswhite Mystery Series
"Elizabeth Crowens’ Bye Bye Blackbird is a welcome addition to the Babs Norman Hollywood Mystery series. Set during the Golden Age of Hollywood and brimming with depictions of its personalities, Crowens succeeds in bringing Old Hollywood to life and offering readers another thoroughly entertaining installment to this series." ~ Annette Bochenek, Ph.D., author of the Hometowns to Hollywood series
"A delectable mystery set in the Golden Age of Hollywood, Elizabeth Crowens Bye Bye Blackbird is a fantastic addition to her Babs Norman series with a treat of a cast featuring Bogart, Mary Astor, Peter Lorre and other screen legends from the era brought to stunning life." ~ Lee Matthew Goldberg, award-nominated author of The Great Gimmelmans and The Mentor
Bye Bye Blackbird Trailer:
Book Details:
Genre: Golden Age of Hollywood Private Investigator novel with satire Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: January 28, 2025 Number of Pages: 340 Series: Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery Book Links:Amazon | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 1
Look at the Birdie!
Hollywood 1941
On Friday, July 4th, only the most essential, dedicated, or insane Los Angelenos punched the clock. Established businesses that usually stayed open closed early that afternoon. For the fledgling ones, like the young private detectives at B. Norman Investigations, there would be no weenie roasts, barbeques, or national holiday celebrations. Death would soon follow. Every electric fan they owned hummed its own tune. Between the fan blades whirring and the cats purring, panting dogs, who could qualify as hotdogs, an injured pelican with its wing in a sling, and their janitor’s wisecracking myna bird, the whole kit and caboodle at Hollywood Boulevard and N. Sycamore resembled a cross between the Humane Society and the Griffith Park Zoo.
Guy Brandt, more detective-partner than secretary, manned the desk upfront. On top of it: a shoebox of magazine clippings, scissors, and a stack of The Times and Herald-Examiner. He undid one more button on his clammy, sweat-stained shirt, flung his tie onto their hat rack, and took a swig of his warm Nehi orange soda, already flat. He hoped to find new clients from newspaper leads but wasn’t getting anywhere. Babs Norman, who always had every pin curl in place, patted off her sticky forehead with a handkerchief. Way beyond a simple touch-up with powder and fresh lipstick, only a masterful makeup wizard, like Perc Westmore, could bring new life to this wilted flower.
“Wouldn’t it be fine and dandy if we could afford to run an ad at least once a week saying that we’re private detectives, specializing in discreet celebrity cases?” she asked.
An adventurous kitten, who strayed from the pack, latched on to Guy’s sock and started to climb his leg. “Maybe we should ask if we can put a note in the downstairs lobby that we’re also a pet adoption service.” He unhooked its claws, returning him to his mama.
“You think that would pay off our debts?”
“Do you always have to sound like a broken record?” An Irish Wolfhound, in need of a bath, sauntered in from the doorway between the two offices. He went up to Guy and plopped his oversized, hairy head into his lap. “Dog days not agreeing with you, Sir Henry?” After rubbing the furry beast’s head, he went to their icebox and plopped chunks of ice in the various water bowls scattered around both rooms. Several prostrated cats laid on their backs, trying to find coolness on the linoleum floor.
From under his pile of clippings, he fished out a copy of Black Mask. Babs, with a wooden clothespin clamping her nostrils shut and carrying an odiferous box of shredded newspapers, walked into his office and stopped short when she caught him reading the pulp. “You think we’re going to find our next client from detective fiction? We need another high-profile case like when we rescued Asta, so MGM could go into production on their next Thin Man film. They paid us an unheard-of amount of money…until you lost it all.”
“Stop being such a sourpuss.” He refused to give her eye contact.
“Do you think I’m enjoying spending time in our stifling office? I’d rather be at the beach with the man of my dreams.” Her inflection had a hint of sarcasm.
“Who’s the lucky fella?”
She went over to their monstrous dog and kissed him on the nose. “Looks like it’s you, Sir Henry of the Baskervilles. Instead of my frog prince, you’re my dog prince. Ah, you’re such a good boy.” She stared at the bulldog in the corner. “But we really need to paper-train Bruno.”
Their adopted bulldog whined. “You hurt his feelings,” Guy said. “Give him a good scratch behind his ears and apologize.”
She scowled. “I’ll give him two more weeks, and it’ll be your job to train him. Otherwise, he can go back to Wiggins, and I don’t care if one of his kids breaks out in hives.” She headed out the door to dump the litter.
* * *
“Our phone rang twice while you were out,” Guy said. “But Wiggins’ stupid bird answered before I could.”
“Hello, sucker!” the myna bird cackled. “Down for the count…1…2…3. Knocked him in the kisser, didn’t ya?”
“By the time I picked up the receiver, whoever it was hung up,” he explained.
“It’s hard to believe a bird can be so smart,” Babs muttered.
“Smart-mouthed is more like it,” he said. “Sounds like Jimmy Cagney, who he’s named after. Maybe we should let him earn his keep. The bird can impersonate him at parties.”
Babs stared at the troublemaker. “The person on the other end probably thought it was a prank.” She looked around the room. “Keep it up and…I got a lot of hungry cats and canines who wouldn’t mind a bowlful of myna bird stew.”
Wiggins, the building janitor, propped their front door open, causing their ginger tomcat to disappear into the hallway faster than gunfire. “My wife said the same. What are the two of ya doing here on Independence Day? With the tenants gone, I heard yer bickering all the way in the basement. Sounded like a married couple in divorce court. How did ya get in?”
“We had an extra set of keys,” Guy said.
Wiggins planted his hands on his hips. “More like makin’ a copy of my set while my back was turned. There’s no foolin’ me. Come on now. Who’ll be the first to confess?”
Both detectives buried their noses in their newspapers.
“All right, if none of ya willin’ to come clean, why aren’t you out having fun?”
“Paying our overdue office rent is my idea of fun,” Babs replied.
Wiggins looked confused. Guy explained, “We’re hurting. Nothing but small potatoes since retrieving our dognapped canine stars.”
“We might be forced to move out, if we don’t land a decent case,” said Babs. “I’m not looking forward to setting up shop at my house.”
Wiggins inhaled but choked. “You make sure you keep this place spic-and-span. If your neighbors start belly achin’…”
From inside his desk, Guy took out a sardine from its wax paper wrapping and tossed it to their pelican.
“Sniff…sniff… If you don’t get rid of this stench,” Wiggins continued, “my boss’ll make sure he throws you out on your arse.”
She plucked a bottle of cheap toilet water from her purse and spritzed the room. “Better now?”
Wiggins pointed toward the exit. “Goin’ after that mouser. Left the back door open to the alley downstairs. He’s liable to slip out and get lost forever.”
Babs handed her partner a feather duster. “Do something.” Then she returned to her lair with a stack of discarded tabloids to make fresh litter and to do her own skewed interpretation of housekeeping.
Guy reset their wall clock, which was a few hours behind the last time they had a power outage, and gave the reception area the minimal once-over by removing accumulated grime from the top of file cabinets. He was just about to straighten the frame displaying his private investigator’s license, when out of the side of his eye, he noticed a shadow. A large, irregular object leaned against the pebbled glass window of their front door. At first he paid it no mind and continued his cleanup crusade.
When minutes passed and it hadn’t budged, he called out just above a whisper, “Do you mind coming over? Make it quick, but be quiet.”
A startled canary flew out their open transom as Babs breezed toward the front. Guy pointed to the silhouetted figure. “I tidied up, like you asked, but don’t recall hearing anyone approach. This thing…it appeared out of nowhere and hasn’t moved since.”
Babs called out to see if it was Wiggins, but whomever it was didn’t respond. She inquired again. “The door is open. Come on in. We’re too hot and tired for practical jokes.”
With a nod, she gave Guy the go-ahead to open the door, but when he did, a young woman they’d never seen before, wearing a hat and an oversized coat despite the heatwave, fell face-forward onto the floor.
“The casting office is on the fourth floor,” Babs said, until she realized the lady hadn’t moved or said a word. Horrified, she squealed and froze in place.
Guy, also shaking, reached for the phone and called Wiggins’ downstairs office. His voice broke up. “Come up—pronto!”
As soon as he put down the receiver, she demanded he call the cops. Without thinking, she leapt up on a wooden chair as if she’d seen a mouse. Her legs wobbled, and she continued to holler.
Wiggins returned, heaving as if he had skipped waiting for the elevator and sprinted up the stairs. He had the missing tomcat draped over his shoulders. “Heard screams echoing down the hallway. You better keep better tabs on your tabbies. What the blarney did ya think was so important—Holy moly! Mary, Mother of God!”
Guy poked the stranger with his feather duster. Not having any luck, Wiggins, who was bigger than the two detectives combined, got a firm toehold with his work boots and rolled her onto her back. All three stared at the stiff.
“Oh, she’s dead alright,” Wiggins assured them. “Ever seen her before?”
Both PIs shook their heads. Guy tiptoed around the corpse and closed the front door. Wiggins fended off their curious menagerie.
“Something dark and…fea-ther-y is protruding from her coat. Like she was trying to conceal whatever she was carrying.” Babs wrinkled her nose. “Smells like she or someone else doused her with…men’s cologne. Not flowery enough to be one a lady would wear. Wiggins, how do you think she got in?”
“Through the back-alley door, I suppose, ’cause I locked the front. Could’ve snuck in and been here a while. Maybe passed out in a stairwell while my back was turned and crawled up to your floor before she expired.”
Guy paced the room and checked the clock. “The cops seem to be taking their time.” He pulled a flask from his file cabinet and took a swig. He offered some to Babs, but she declined.
Wiggins wrested the flask out of Guy’s hand and finished it to the last drop. “Sure as hell, this would have to happen on a holiday when the police are short-staffed.” He took a swatter from off the wall and clobbered a pesky fly that landed on the stranger’s ear. Babs trembled.
“She can feel it no more than if you were all doped up at the dentist,” Wiggins said.
Babs commented that the police could examine the body. She wasn’t touching it.
Guy suggested to Wiggins to wait for the cops downstairs. “They’ll need you to unlock the building.”
Keeping his distance, Guy asked, “Babs, how do you think she died?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care.” She made it clear she wasn’t even interested in slipping on gloves to search for an ID.
He suggested that this could be the lead they’ve been looking for. She didn’t see it that way. “This is no way to spend a holiday. Let the police and the medical examiner do their jobs. They’ve expressed they don’t want us meddling in their homicide cases, anyway. I just want her out of here.”
Soon, they heard footsteps and the sound of crunching paper. She took for granted the cops had arrived. “Come in. It’s unlocked.”
She and her partner didn’t make a move until the front door creaked open.
Instead of the police, Humphrey Bogart stood there holding a parcel haphazardly wrapped in brown paper and twine. “I called twice. Assumed you had an answering service to leave a message. Dialed the right number, but someone with a peculiar voice like a Warner Brothers cartoon picked up. When I tried to explain my predicament, he mocked me and cracked a few jokes. Figured I better stop over.”
“How did you get into our building?” Guy asked.
“Your janitor recognized me. When I asked to see you, he figured I was harmless. He said he was waiting for—” Babs interrupted his train of thought. Still standing on the chair, she covered her eyes with one hand and pointed to the floor without making a sound. Bogie backed up. The blood drained from his face. “Whoa! Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said he was expecting the cops.”
A black cat jumped on top of the victim and started making biscuits. “Oh, no, you don’t.” Guy bent down to throw him off.
“Wh-a-a-t happened?” Bogie’s words came out choppy.
Babs regained her voice, which, at first, came out in squeaks. “Not sure. What brings you here?”
“I’m looking for a private investigator. You came highly recommended as some of the best private dicks in town.”
Babs flushed. She preferred a more ladylike elucidation. With no further introductions needed, she ushered Bogart into her office, and Guy followed, grabbing a notepad off his desk. Even though she hated staring at the corpse, she kept her door open to keep an eye out for the police. She kept reminding herself to take deep breaths and not to panic.
“Do you mind clearing your desk?” Bogie held out his parcel. “I’d like to show you what I found on my doorstep this morning.”
With one fell swoop of her arm, the papers went into a spare box, which Babs said she’d sort through later. Bogart put his parcel down on her desk and fanned out his jacket.
“I guess we can skip formalities when the weather beats us into submission. Mind if I take this off?” His shirt was soaked. “This has been one of those days where I’ve felt like an omelet slapped on the Devil’s griddle.”
Babs identified his mysterious object as a museum replica of an ancient Egyptian canopic jar of Horus, the Hawk, the offspring of Isis and Osiris.
“This is much smaller and lighter than the falcon prop in our movie. Ours is about forty-seven pounds of lead. If you dropped it, you could break someone’s toe.” Bogie lifted its lid and revealed a mummified object. Taking special care, he unwrapped its gauze, stained but far from looking ancient, to reveal a sizable dead crow.
“I have no idea what this is supposed to symbolize, but now it looks like I’ve got competition from what’s in your front room as to which gives me the worst case of the heebie-jeebies,” Bogie remarked.
Guy pulled the privacy shades down on the pebbled glass windows on the walls and door separating the front office from her inner sanctum. “One would presume to find a dead falcon, not a raven, considering you’re in the middle of production for The Maltese Falcon.”
* * *
Excerpt from Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens. Copyright 2025 by Elizabeth Crowens. Reproduced with permission from Elizabeth Crowens. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Elizabeth Crowens is bi-coastal between Los Angeles and New York. For over thirty years, she has worn many hats in the entertainment industry, contributed stories to Black Belt, Black Gate, Sherlock Holmes Mystery Magazines, Hell’s Heart, and the Bram Stoker-nominated A New York State of Fright, and has a popular Caption Contest on Facebook.
Awards include: Leo B. Burstein Scholarship from the MWA-NY Chapter, New York Foundation of the Arts grant to publish the anthology New York: Give Me Your Best or Your Worst (no longer in print), Eric Hoffer Award, Glimmer Train Awards Honorable Mention, Killer Nashville Claymore Award Finalist, two Grand prize, six First prize, and multiple Finalist Chanticleer Awards. Crowens writes multi-genre alternate history and historical Hollywood mysteries.
I'm currently reading Bye Bye Blackbird by Elizabeth Crowens. This is the second book in the Babs Norman Golden Age of Hollywood Mystery series and was released last month.
The Private Investigator office of Babs Norman is overrun with critters, big dogs, kittens, and birds! While unexpected guests have become the norm, Babs and her secretary, Guy, are unprepared when a woman falls into their office-dead. Adding to the confusion Humphrey Bogart enters with a dead bird. With low funds and an unknown dead woman Babs takes Bogart's case. As if one dead bird in a canopic jar isn't enough, bird references and more dead birds start to plague the stars filming The Maltese Falcon. Is someone trying to halt the movie's production, or is something even more sinister at play?
A PERILOUS PREMIERE by Gail Meath The First Stone & Steele Mystery
Fashion designer Vivian Steele had it all, a wonderful business, a great friendship with film star Carole
Lombard, and a happy marriage of almost a year. Until her husband was
gunned down. Determined to seek justice she worked to find her husband's
killer, only to discover he couldn't have done it. That shock was just
the tip of the iceberg. A phone call led her to a dead body and the fact
that her husband was leading a double life; one that's putting hers in
jeopardy. Teaming up with a louse might be her best option, not only to
uncover all of her husband's secrets, but to save her own life!
A PERILOUS PREMIERE utilizes the glamorous backdrop of the Golden Age of Hollywood to perfection, bridging the opulent lives of film stars and the rich with the reality of the working class and the grittiness of gangsters and ne'er do wells. I really liked Vivian Steel with her determination and sense of style. I am also intrigued by her mysterious background. Tantalizing snippets of her life before Hollywood are given and I look forward to learning more. I enjoyed the relationship between Vivian and Preston Stone, from distaste to bantering cooperation. With each surprising the other, the pair make an exciting team.
Vengeance, treachery, and murder come together in A PERILOUS PREMIERE, a smart new mystery featuring great interplay by interesting characters while offering lots of surprises and some cute dogs!
A Perilous Premiere (Stone & Steele Mysteries)by Gail Meath
About A Perilous Premiere
A Perilous Premiere (Stone & Steele Mysteries) Historical Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting - California Publisher: Cranberry Pond Publishing (November 15, 2024) Paperback: 182 pages
Solving their own murders is the least of their problems…and the beginning of Stone & Steele, a reluctant yet surprisingly skilled investigative team.
The Golden Age of Hollywood, 1938. Vivian Steele moved to California to start a new life. She opened a fashion boutique in Beverly Hills, befriended Carole Lombard, the actress, and married a successful banker. But when her husband is murdered, Vivian discovers she isn't the only one hiding a few secrets.
An anonymous phone call lures Vivian to a plush hotel room where she stumbles upon the dead body of a beautiful young actress – her husband’s mistress. To add fuel to the fire, she's not alone.
Preston Stone, her adversary and Hollywood’s notorious playboy, is standing beside her. Suspiciously, they part ways only to find themselves alone again at a movie premiere two days later, and the message becomes brutally clear. They’re both the next targets of a cold-blooded killer.
Together, Vivian and Preston are thrown into a deadly race to find a missing collection of valuable coins and stop a vicious killer before they become the next murder victims. But first, they need to stop pointing their fingers at each other.
A Perilous Premiere is the first book in this exciting new 1930s Stone & Steele mystery series starring a great cast of characters ranging from the rich and famous to Bella, a Boston Terrier, her new friend, Boris, a Saint Bernard, and a few other endearing folks. (A pretty clean read)
About Gail Meath
Gail Meath is the author of the multi-award-winning Jax Diamond Mysteries, the fun series about of a wise-cracking PI, his sweet German Shepherd partner, Ace, and his Broadway singing heartthrob, Laura, as they solve crazy crimes during the Roaring Twenties. She's currently working on the first book in her exciting new 1930s mystery series, Stone & Steele Mysteries, takes place during the glamorous Golden Age of Hollywood. As always, she blends the most loveable characters with a good, solid mystery.
Gail also has a growing list of other award-winning historical romances, mysteries, westerns, and fictional biographies of true heroines. She lives in a small village in Upstate New York with her husband and their sweet, little Boston Terrier, and she spends loads of time with her grandchildren.
FINAL CUT by Marjorie McCown The First Hollywood Mystery
A professional, Joey Jessop still find things trying on the set of
the newest blockbuster in the making. The director is a demanding
misogynistic bully, the second assistant director is a harpy who is fond
of public displays of affection with the first assistant director, who
happens to be Joey's ex, and there are a million and one things that are
needed immediately. After a run in with the second AD, Joey knows she
needs to make peace so that filming will run smoothly. Eventually she
finds Courtney...dead. It's bad enough when the detectives suspect she
had something to do with the murder, but the paparazzi have scented
fresh meat and Joey becomes their latest target. Social media has put
the behind the scenes costumer front and center and when even her
co-workers start targeting her Joey knows she has to start digging up
the truth in order to to save herself.
From the onset you can tell that the author is intimately knowledgeable about costuming feature films. Lots of insider information is fascinating, but at the start so much detail takes away from the story. That being said once the plot gets moving it really gets moving! Joey is a down to earth protagonist you'd like to get to know. Smart, capable, and talented at her career she makes a wonderful leading player. Malo is a delightful young PA and I look forward to seeing him grow.
I appreciate how things aren't sugarcoated or romanticized. Above all, Hollywood is a business. While it can make dreams come true it can also crush them. It can also simply be a steady paycheck. People can be mean, they can take advantage. They can kill your spirit or, in the case of this mystery, actually kill you. The mystery was well plotted with great characterization truly giving a bird's eye view of being on set. The first Hollywood Mystery also shines a light on a subject long kept hidden, especially in the movie industry, sexual harassment. And it's not only the perpetrators, but those complicit by their silence.
Full of surprising twists and grounded in Hollywood reality FINAL CUT is a solid start to a new series.
Every day on the set of a big budget Hollywood movie is full of surprises. But the last thing key costumer Joey Jessop expected to find on the first day of principal photography was the body of a fellow crew member. And she immediately becomes a suspect -- not only because she found the body on the beach in Malibu where they're shooting the movie, but because the victim, second assistant director Courtney Lisle, was seeing Joey's ex, first assistant director Eli Logan.
When the press takes hold of the story and social media begins to run with it, Joey watches her well-ordered life behind the scenes of the movie business become front and center tabloid fodder. But that isn't even the worst of it. In addition to her new and unwanted stardom, Joey must also contend with the reckless behavior of the movie's predatory director and producer, Marcus Pray, who churns out blockbuster hits while subjecting his movie crews to a toxic work environment. As a result, Joey finds herself embattled both personally and professionally.
With tensions building on set and a murder investigation looming over her life and future, Joey takes it upon herself to clear her name. Will she be able to uncover the truth before it's a wrap?
Praise for Final Cut:
"[A] keen sense of what it’s like to work on a Hollywood production." ~ Kirkus Reviews
"A fun and unique story . . . Readers will love FINAL CUT." ~ Cozy Mystery Book Reviews
"Expertly showcases [McCown's] genuine flair for original and the kind of narrative driven and unexpected plot twists that make for a riveting story." ~ Midwest Book Review
"Engaging, with twists and turns." ~ Red Carpet Crash
"A must-read movie mystery packed with juicy details from a Hollywood insider, FINAL CUT gets my nomination for best debut." ~ Ellen Byron, Agatha and Lefty Award Winner, USA Today bestselling author
"FINAL CUT is both an insider look at what it’s like to work on Hollywood’s biggest blockbuster and a surprising, timely mystery about a murder on the set . . . The story is a pop culture lover’s dream. I’m already lining up for the sequel." ~ Kellye Garrett, Agatha, Anthony, and Lefty Award winning author of Like a Sister
Joey felt frustrated that she was late getting back to the shoot. By this time, nearly an hour after wrap, most of the movie crew had packed up and gone home after what had been a long, discouraging day. As key costumer, Joey usually started the morning on set, then ended her day at one of the specialty shops that made clothing for the film, or one of a dozen other tasks that went with her job. But tonight was different.
She’d made the long drive back to the shooting location in Malibu because she wanted to talk to Courtney in person, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, she wished she’d made it back before wrap. The second AD hadn’t answered her texts, and now Joey worried she’d missed the chance to do timely damage control, to smooth over the tension between them after their flare-up on set earlier that day. The hectic pace of the movie had everybody on edge, but their confrontation could threaten the costume department’s entire working relationship with the assistant directors. If she couldn’t talk to the second AD without starting a fight, it was game over.
Determined not to let that happen, Joey bypassed the wardrobe truck and headed straight to the AD trailer as soon as she got back to location. She’d seen firsthand the problems that came from bad blood between departments.
On one of her first films, the costume supervisor had gotten into a feud with the transportation captain. After that, the wardrobe trailers were permanently parked in base camp Siberia, as far from the actors’ trailers as possible. The time it took to travel those extra yards added up fast when you had to cover them many times each day. Then drivers suddenly became unavailable to do runs of any kind for the costume department, no matter the urgency. That might not sound like a big deal, but transpo can be a lifesaver when you’re up against an impossible deadline by making an important pickup or drop-off when everybody in your department is too slammed with work to do it, which can happen several times a week on a busy film.
Getting on the wrong side of the AD department was even worse. Assistant directors are like air traffic controllers on a movie. Without them, everybody crashes into everybody else, literally and figuratively. Alienate the ADs and you’re just asking for trouble.
The costume department already had enough problems on this movie between the lack of prep time, late casting, and a director with an ego as big as his box office grosses. Making an enemy of the second AD wasn’t an option. The thought sent a shiver through Joey, and she picked up her pace.
When she didn’t find Courtney in the AD trailer, she continued her circuit of the movie’s base camp, asking everyone she passed if they’d seen the second AD.
“She was by the cafe set last I saw her, but that was a while ago,” one of the grips said.
Joey headed for the Paradise Cove Cafe up by the beach. All the actors’ trailers,
nearest the set, were dark and locked up for the night. She tried the back door of the cafe, but that too was secured, so she peered through the windows. A single work light remained on, but there was no sign of anyone inside, the cafe apparently deserted now that the day’s filming was done. The sun was low in the sky, dipping toward the ocean.
The longest day of the year, and that’s exactly what it felt like to Joey.
She’d run out of places to look. Anxiety tugged at her. Her relationship with Courtney was complicated, like it is whenever your ex is dating somebody new. And she needed to be honest with herself about the way her personal feelings may have clouded their interactions.
With daylight dying over the water, she stepped onto the beach, hoping to feel a scrap of the serenity she always found in the natural rhythm of the breaking waves, like a favorite refrain, a golden oldie that just gets better with time.
At the water’s edge, she noticed a pile of clothing, buffeted by the incoming tide scudding across the sand. Her first thought was that one of the extras had abandoned their costume, but that didn’t make any sense. As the sun dropped out of the sky, she took a few steps closer to investigate, at the same time as a larger wave swept aside what she’d taken for coils of kelp swirling around that bundle of fabric.
Horror sliced through Joey like a scalpel; she stumbled and fell to her knees. Courtney Lisle lay motionless in the shallow water at the shoreline as the cold blue Pacific surf washed over her body.
FOURTEEN HOURS EARLIER
Chapter One
The first day of principal photography on a film is always a milestone in production, like opening night in the theater. After working mostly independently of each other for three months or more, all the different departments merge to become one big machine. No matter how many movies you’ve done, every new job is a blank slate. Each time, you ask yourself: Do I have what it takes to climb that mountain again, to create a new world out of whole cloth?
Put up or shut up time.
Joey slept poorly the night before, which was par for the course; but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that dropped on her like a net as soon as she opened her eyes that morning. She’d had a bad feeling about this job from the start; she’d nearly passed on the movie for a number of reasons, both personal and professional. But the carrot of working so close to home was finally too tempting to resist.
The costume department had been prepping for months, but the schedule was rushed for a project so large and complex. Lots of special effects, stunts, and complicated costumes; lots of money and reputations on the line. Still, she felt her department was as ready as they could be, and her standards for readiness were high. So she tried to chalk up her misgivings to first day of shooting jitters. Later, she’d wonder if they’d been a premonition.
Just before sunrise, she pulled her car into the crew parking lot, about a mile south of base camp in Malibu. A shuttle van idled, waiting to ferry people to the set. It was empty save for the driver, whose head rested against his seat back. The teamsters were respon- sible for the setup of vehicles and equipment, so that all was ready for the shooting company when they got to work. They were the first in and last out every day, and most of them were expert at grabbing a few winks when they had the chance.
Joey gathered her purse and work satchel, then locked her car and pinned her keys to her waistband. She had keys to the costume offices and storage space for the movie as well as her personal keys, and this was the only sure way to keep them at hand throughout the day without losing them.
She trotted over to the van and pulled the side door open, startling the driver out of his catnap. A grizzled veteran in his late forties, he sat up with a frown until he saw who was climbing into his back seat.
“Joey Jessop! Girl, how you doin’?” A wolfish grin lit his face. “You are lookin’ fine as ever, Sweet Cheeks.”
Pete O’Neill was a relentless lech, and even though he was basically harmless, he could be tiresome, especially first thing in the morning.
“Pete, what a nice surprise,” she said, trying to hide her true feelings. “I didn’t see your name on the crew list.”
“We ran three weeks over on the last job down in Louisiana. Made it back in the nick of time to get on this one. Didn’t want to miss out on a big show in LA, for a change.”
“No kidding,” she said. “This is the first job I’ve booked in the past four years that’s shooting here. I’m thrilled to be sleeping in my own bed for the next six months.”
“You coming off location, too?”
“I’ve been back here prepping this one for a while, but before that I was out of town shooting a Western.”
“How’d that go?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You meet a lot of hunky cowboys?”
She managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “It was an education.”
“Never done a Western before, huh?” He gave her a knowing look. “Whole different animal.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Joey had been on dozens of location shoots, but the Western was a real eye-opener. From the wild temperature swings in the desert—25 degrees at night to over 100 in the afternoon—to the dust storm that took out their generators one day, or the flash flood that nearly trapped them in a box canyon on another, the experience had given her a fresh appreciation for the comfort of shooting on a studio back lot.
She stifled a yawn. “At least it was fast. Six-week shoot.” “Yeah?” His expression was skeptical. “Who was directing?”
“Clint Eastwood.” She smiled as she pictured the director on set, watching the shot in progress on a handheld monitor. Despite the difficult conditions, Joey enjoyed working with him.
Pete nodded appreciatively. “That man’s a class act, old school Hollywood.”
“Yes, he is,” she said. “A real filmmaker. We could use more like him in the business these days.”
“You got that right.” Pete checked his watch. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any more customers for a while. Crew call’s not for another hour. If you want, I’ll run you up to base camp now.”
“That’d be great.” She slid the door closed. “I can use some quiet time before everybody gets here.”
He dropped the van into gear. They turned north onto the Pacific Coast Highway as a pale watercolor wash of daylight began to spread across the ocean, sketching in the horizon line to the west. Joey took a deep breath, bracing herself for the nonstop activity the next sixteen hours would bring.
“Have you read the script for this one yet?” Pete glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“Didn’t have much choice,” she said lightly.
“That bad?”
“Not my cup of tea. I’m not a big fan of comic book movies.”
“’Bout all they make around here anymore,” he said, “if you want to earn a decent living.”
“Don’t I know it.”
The screenplay was 125 pages of special effects–driven gobbledygook, but Joey had no doubt it would play well with the movie’s crucial fourteen- to twenty-year-old target audience.
“I heard this one’s about some new superhero.” Pete caught her eye in the mirror again.
“It’s actually the Legion of Phenomenals, based on some underground comics that have a big cult following. Nothing new, but they haven’t been used in any movies so far.”
“Why not just call it that, instead of UMPP?” He was asking about the working title for the movie. “Sounds like a noise you’d make if you got punched in the stomach.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s code for Untitled Marcus Pray Project. You know how paranoid the producers are. They’re trying to keep the fanboys in the dark.”
“Like that’s going to stop them. The director’ll probably be posting pictures on Instagram from the set, and the studio won’t say boo to him.” Pete leaned back to talk to her over his shoulder. “Marcus Pray’s no Eastwood, even if he is a big dog in the business right now. I’m taking care of his trailer, and I got a mile-long list of special stuff that’s gotta be on board for him and his friends.” Pete gave the word a suggestive emphasis.
Marcus Pray was a powerful Hollywood hyphenate, a producer-director with a string of action-adventure blockbusters to his credit. This movie was sure to be another lucrative notch on his belt. Joey hadn’t worked with him before, and some of the stories she’d heard made her think twice before she signed onto this job.
***
Excerpt from FINAL CUT by Marjorie McCown. Copyright 2023 by Marjorie McCown. Reproduced with permission from Marjorie McCown. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Marjorie McCown spent 27 years in Hollywood working on the costumes for movies such as Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Her film career provides the inspiration for her Hollywood Mystery series of books that are set behind the scenes in the world of moviemaking and feature key costumer Joey Jessop as the main character. Her cozy murder mystery, FINAL CUT (Crooked Lane Books, June 2023) was chosen as an Amazon Editors' Pick in the best Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense category. Deadly Pleasures Magazine named FINAL CUT as one of the best cozy mysteries of 2023, and FINAL CUT was also named a Top Pick in the cozy mystery category for the Silver Falchion Award by Killer Nashville. STAR STRUCK, Book #2 in her Hollywood Mystery series published May 7, 2024. Marjorie is a member of Sisters-in-Crime and Mystery Writers of America.
I'm currently reading A Perilous Premiere by Gail Meath. This book is the first in the Stone and Steele Mystery series and was published last month.
Fashion designer Vivian Steele had it all, a wonderful business, a great friendship with film star Carole Lombard, and a happy marriage of almost a year. Until her husband was gunned down. Determined to seek justice she worked to find her husband's killer, only to discover he couldn't have done it. That shock was just the tip of the iceberg. A phone call led her to a dead body and the fact that her husband was leading a double life; one that's putting hers in jeopardy. Teaming up with a louse might be her best option, not only to uncover all of her husband's secrets, but to save her own life!
I'm pleased to welcome Marjorie McCown to Cozy Up With Kathy today. Marjorie writes the Hollywood Mystery series. FINAL CUT is the first book in the series. Be sure to return to the blog Friday when I'll post my review.
Kathy: Joey Jessop is a costumer on the set of a big budget Hollywood movie. As a costumer yourself, what's the most interesting part of the job...aside from finding dead bodies?
MM: I love every part of the job from the research to the collaboration with my creative partners as we conceive the overall look of the movie, and then to the next step, which is using that overall look as the guiding inspiration to create costumes for the individual characters. That needs to happen before we even get into the really fun part of bringing all those ideas and designs to life by sourcing fabrics, working with the various artisans to create the clothing and accessories, and fitting the actors.
The costume fittings are the proving ground of the design process, so I guess if I have to pick the "most interesting" part of the job, I'll go with the fittings. No matter how beautiful a costume sketch might be or how wonderful a gown looks on a dress form, you can never be truly sure that the costume will work for the movie until you see it on your actor. And it's also where you can make discoveries that will help you further enhance the costume and its viability regarding support of the character and the world of the film.
Kathy: Would you prefer providing costumes for big budget films, independent films, or theatre? What about Joey?
MM: I prefer providing costumes for big budget movies for several reasons, both creative and practical. Joey has never worked in theatre, so she doesn't have that experience to compare with working in film. But she also prefers big budget movies and for the same reasons I do because (no surprise here) her attitudes about the movie industry mostly mirror my own.
On the practical side, you just have many more resources on a big budget movie in terms of money and manpower -- because it literally takes a village to create all the costumes that appear in even a modest-sized movie. If you're talking about an epic like Forrest Gump, then you've got more than 100 speaking actors and 10,000 background players, all of whom have to be dressed in period costumes. That kind of job requires the combined efforts of a large team of highly skilled costumers. And full disclosure: it's a definite plus that all departments on the crew of a big film are well-compensated financially for their work.
On the creative side, I prefer the scale of big movies. You have a sweeping blank canvas that provides abundant opportunities for the design departments to build the world of the film, and I find that exciting and inspiring.
Kathy: Joey definitely prefers to be behind the scenes, what about you?
MM: I enjoy the creative process, whatever form that takes -- whether it be designing costumes or writing a novel. But I prefer to have my work in the spotlight rather than be the focus of attention myself.
Kathy: If you could be responsible for costuming any production, what would it be? You could choose a specific piece or give a genre. For example, an avante garde production of Measure for Measure, a Gothic romantic suspense, or a Victorian mystery.
MM: I would love to design the costumes for an operatic version of Daphne Du Maurier's classic suspense novel, REBECCA. It's one of my favorite books (and I love the Hitchcock-directed film version.) I do think the plot is appropriately operatic in emotional and psychological scope -- and there's that terrific scene with the costume ball that would be so much fun to design. The book was published in 1938, and I'd keep the setting in the 1930s, maybe pushed back a little in the decade, which is one of my favorite periods in fashion.
Kathy: What first drew you to mysteries?
MM: I've been a mystery reader and lover all my life. Like many, I started early with Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys.
Kathy: Do you write in any other genres?
MM: I only write mysteries. I do read widely in both fiction and nonfiction -- I love memoirs and biographies in particular. But mysteries are far and away my favorite genre to read and my preferred genre as an author.
Kathy: Tell us about your series.
MM: The books in my Hollywood Mystery series are set behind the scenes of big budget movies in production featuring a main character who is a key costumer named Joey Jessop.
Kathy: Do you have a favorite character? If so, who and why?
MM: That's an even harder to answer than another question I'm quite often asked: Who is the nicest actor/actress you ever worked with? (I finally narrowed that down to a "top twelve" list.) But my characters are my creations, so that's a very personal bond.
I will say I like my main character, Joey Jessop because she's a creative thinker, an animal lover, and a loyal friend. She also has a strong work ethic, which is something I always admire. I'm also partial to Malo, the young production assistant Joey befriends and mentors in FINAL CUT. He's a sensitive and extremely talented artist with a big heart who idolizes Joey.
Kathy: Did you have a specific inspiration for your series?
MM: The inspiration for my series came from my film career in Hollywood, where I spent 27 years working as both a key costumer and a costume designer on wonderful movies like Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Hairspray, Angels & Demons, and X-Men Days of Future Past.
Quite honestly, I've thought for a long time that a big movie would be the perfect setting for a murder mystery because a movie company is its own unique community, like a very specific kind of small town with its own set of relationships and always plenty of drama behind the scenes.
I also want to take readers on an insider's guided tour of the everyday working world of a movie in production, which is a very different view of Hollywood than anything they'll ever see featured on the red carpet.
Kathy: What made you decide to publish your work?
MM: I always hoped to be traditionally published, and I was (and am) truly grateful to Crooked Lane Books for offering me a publishing contract.
Kathy: If you could have a dinner party and invite 4 authors, living or dead, in any genre, who would you invite?
MM: Daphne du Maurier, Patricia Highsmith, Jane Austen, and Edith Wharton
Kathy: What are you currently reading?
MM: GATHERING MIST by Margaret Mizushima and MURDER ON THE PAGE by Daryl Wood Gerber. (I'm always reading at least 2 books at one time -- one a hardback that I can sit and read at home and one that I'll have on Kindle to take with me whenever I leave the house, to make sure I have something to read, no matter where the day takes me.)
Kathy: Will you share any of your hobbies or interests with us?
MM: Reading, of course, is one of my primary interests. I've been an avid reader all my life and it's still my go-to form of entertainment. I also love to get outside and work in the garden. Gardening is one of those Zen activities (and writing is the same for me) where I can spend hours that just seem to fly by. And I like to sketch. I used to draw every day when I designed costumes for theater and opera, and I also worked a few times as a sketch artist for movies. Now I just draw for my own enjoyment.
Kathy: Name 4 items you always have in your fridge or pantry.
MM: La Croix lime-flavored sparkling water, V8 spicy hot vegetable juice, Skinny Pop popcorn, and Pacific Foods butternut squash soup.
Kathy: Do you have plans for future books either in your current series or a new series?
MM: I've written the outline for the first book in a new series, as yet untitled, which will be Hollywood-centric with a focus on the creative side of filmmaking, although I won't be ignoring the day-to-day activities of a film set. I've also planned for the series to have two main characters, a man and a woman. They're not romantically involved, but they are great friends and colleagues. Both of them work in different jobs within the movie industry.
Kathy: What's your favorite thing about being an author?
MM: The freedom to be a complete storyteller. I've always said I've spent my entire professional life in the storytelling business; I just started out on the visual side of the craft because costume design is really about storytelling. That's what makes it different from fashion design. Fashion is about satisfying the tastes of the marketplace. But the goal of costume design is to use clothing to help tell a story about a particular set of characters in a particular situation at a particular point in time. So what I love best about being an author is the chance to be in charge of the whole story.
Every day on the set of a big budget Hollywood movie is full of surprises. But the last thing key costumer Joey Jessop expected to find on the first day of principal photography was the body of a fellow crew member. And she immediately becomes a suspect -- not only because she found the body on the beach in Malibu where they're shooting the movie, but because the victim, second assistant director Courtney Lisle, was seeing Joey's ex, first assistant director Eli Logan.
When the press takes hold of the story and social media begins to run with it, Joey watches her well-ordered life behind the scenes of the movie business become front and center tabloid fodder. But that isn't even the worst of it. In addition to her new and unwanted stardom, Joey must also contend with the reckless behavior of the movie's predatory director and producer, Marcus Pray, who churns out blockbuster hits while subjecting his movie crews to a toxic work environment. As a result, Joey finds herself embattled both personally and professionally.
With tensions building on set and a murder investigation looming over her life and future, Joey takes it upon herself to clear her name. Will she be able to uncover the truth before it's a wrap?
Praise for Final Cut:
"[A] keen sense of what it’s like to work on a Hollywood production." ~ Kirkus Reviews
"A fun and unique story . . . Readers will love FINAL CUT." ~ Cozy Mystery Book Reviews
"Expertly showcases [McCown's] genuine flair for original and the kind of narrative driven and unexpected plot twists that make for a riveting story." ~ Midwest Book Review
"Engaging, with twists and turns." ~ Red Carpet Crash
"A must-read movie mystery packed with juicy details from a Hollywood insider, FINAL CUT gets my nomination for best debut." ~ Ellen Byron, Agatha and Lefty Award Winner, USA Today bestselling author
"FINAL CUT is both an insider look at what it’s like to work on Hollywood’s biggest blockbuster and a surprising, timely mystery about a murder on the set . . . The story is a pop culture lover’s dream. I’m already lining up for the sequel." ~ Kellye Garrett, Agatha, Anthony, and Lefty Award winning author of Like a Sister
Joey felt frustrated that she was late getting back to the shoot. By this time, nearly an hour after wrap, most of the movie crew had packed up and gone home after what had been a long, discouraging day. As key costumer, Joey usually started the morning on set, then ended her day at one of the specialty shops that made clothing for the film, or one of a dozen other tasks that went with her job. But tonight was different.
She’d made the long drive back to the shooting location in Malibu because she wanted to talk to Courtney in person, and even though she wasn’t looking forward to the conversation, she wished she’d made it back before wrap. The second AD hadn’t answered her texts, and now Joey worried she’d missed the chance to do timely damage control, to smooth over the tension between them after their flare-up on set earlier that day. The hectic pace of the movie had everybody on edge, but their confrontation could threaten the costume department’s entire working relationship with the assistant directors. If she couldn’t talk to the second AD without starting a fight, it was game over.
Determined not to let that happen, Joey bypassed the wardrobe truck and headed straight to the AD trailer as soon as she got back to location. She’d seen firsthand the problems that came from bad blood between departments.
On one of her first films, the costume supervisor had gotten into a feud with the transportation captain. After that, the wardrobe trailers were permanently parked in base camp Siberia, as far from the actors’ trailers as possible. The time it took to travel those extra yards added up fast when you had to cover them many times each day. Then drivers suddenly became unavailable to do runs of any kind for the costume department, no matter the urgency. That might not sound like a big deal, but transpo can be a lifesaver when you’re up against an impossible deadline by making an important pickup or drop-off when everybody in your department is too slammed with work to do it, which can happen several times a week on a busy film.
Getting on the wrong side of the AD department was even worse. Assistant directors are like air traffic controllers on a movie. Without them, everybody crashes into everybody else, literally and figuratively. Alienate the ADs and you’re just asking for trouble.
The costume department already had enough problems on this movie between the lack of prep time, late casting, and a director with an ego as big as his box office grosses. Making an enemy of the second AD wasn’t an option. The thought sent a shiver through Joey, and she picked up her pace.
When she didn’t find Courtney in the AD trailer, she continued her circuit of the movie’s base camp, asking everyone she passed if they’d seen the second AD.
“She was by the cafe set last I saw her, but that was a while ago,” one of the grips said.
Joey headed for the Paradise Cove Cafe up by the beach. All the actors’ trailers,
nearest the set, were dark and locked up for the night. She tried the back door of the cafe, but that too was secured, so she peered through the windows. A single work light remained on, but there was no sign of anyone inside, the cafe apparently deserted now that the day’s filming was done. The sun was low in the sky, dipping toward the ocean.
The longest day of the year, and that’s exactly what it felt like to Joey.
She’d run out of places to look. Anxiety tugged at her. Her relationship with Courtney was complicated, like it is whenever your ex is dating somebody new. And she needed to be honest with herself about the way her personal feelings may have clouded their interactions.
With daylight dying over the water, she stepped onto the beach, hoping to feel a scrap of the serenity she always found in the natural rhythm of the breaking waves, like a favorite refrain, a golden oldie that just gets better with time.
At the water’s edge, she noticed a pile of clothing, buffeted by the incoming tide scudding across the sand. Her first thought was that one of the extras had abandoned their costume, but that didn’t make any sense. As the sun dropped out of the sky, she took a few steps closer to investigate, at the same time as a larger wave swept aside what she’d taken for coils of kelp swirling around that bundle of fabric.
Horror sliced through Joey like a scalpel; she stumbled and fell to her knees. Courtney Lisle lay motionless in the shallow water at the shoreline as the cold blue Pacific surf washed over her body.
FOURTEEN HOURS EARLIER
Chapter One
The first day of principal photography on a film is always a milestone in production, like opening night in the theater. After working mostly independently of each other for three months or more, all the different departments merge to become one big machine. No matter how many movies you’ve done, every new job is a blank slate. Each time, you ask yourself: Do I have what it takes to climb that mountain again, to create a new world out of whole cloth?
Put up or shut up time.
Joey slept poorly the night before, which was par for the course; but she couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that dropped on her like a net as soon as she opened her eyes that morning. She’d had a bad feeling about this job from the start; she’d nearly passed on the movie for a number of reasons, both personal and professional. But the carrot of working so close to home was finally too tempting to resist.
The costume department had been prepping for months, but the schedule was rushed for a project so large and complex. Lots of special effects, stunts, and complicated costumes; lots of money and reputations on the line. Still, she felt her department was as ready as they could be, and her standards for readiness were high. So she tried to chalk up her misgivings to first day of shooting jitters. Later, she’d wonder if they’d been a premonition.
Just before sunrise, she pulled her car into the crew parking lot, about a mile south of base camp in Malibu. A shuttle van idled, waiting to ferry people to the set. It was empty save for the driver, whose head rested against his seat back. The teamsters were respon- sible for the setup of vehicles and equipment, so that all was ready for the shooting company when they got to work. They were the first in and last out every day, and most of them were expert at grabbing a few winks when they had the chance.
Joey gathered her purse and work satchel, then locked her car and pinned her keys to her waistband. She had keys to the costume offices and storage space for the movie as well as her personal keys, and this was the only sure way to keep them at hand throughout the day without losing them.
She trotted over to the van and pulled the side door open, startling the driver out of his catnap. A grizzled veteran in his late forties, he sat up with a frown until he saw who was climbing into his back seat.
“Joey Jessop! Girl, how you doin’?” A wolfish grin lit his face. “You are lookin’ fine as ever, Sweet Cheeks.”
Pete O’Neill was a relentless lech, and even though he was basically harmless, he could be tiresome, especially first thing in the morning.
“Pete, what a nice surprise,” she said, trying to hide her true feelings. “I didn’t see your name on the crew list.”
“We ran three weeks over on the last job down in Louisiana. Made it back in the nick of time to get on this one. Didn’t want to miss out on a big show in LA, for a change.”
“No kidding,” she said. “This is the first job I’ve booked in the past four years that’s shooting here. I’m thrilled to be sleeping in my own bed for the next six months.”
“You coming off location, too?”
“I’ve been back here prepping this one for a while, but before that I was out of town shooting a Western.”
“How’d that go?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You meet a lot of hunky cowboys?”
She managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “It was an education.”
“Never done a Western before, huh?” He gave her a knowing look. “Whole different animal.”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Joey had been on dozens of location shoots, but the Western was a real eye-opener. From the wild temperature swings in the desert—25 degrees at night to over 100 in the afternoon—to the dust storm that took out their generators one day, or the flash flood that nearly trapped them in a box canyon on another, the experience had given her a fresh appreciation for the comfort of shooting on a studio back lot.
She stifled a yawn. “At least it was fast. Six-week shoot.” “Yeah?” His expression was skeptical. “Who was directing?”
“Clint Eastwood.” She smiled as she pictured the director on set, watching the shot in progress on a handheld monitor. Despite the difficult conditions, Joey enjoyed working with him.
Pete nodded appreciatively. “That man’s a class act, old school Hollywood.”
“Yes, he is,” she said. “A real filmmaker. We could use more like him in the business these days.”
“You got that right.” Pete checked his watch. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any more customers for a while. Crew call’s not for another hour. If you want, I’ll run you up to base camp now.”
“That’d be great.” She slid the door closed. “I can use some quiet time before everybody gets here.”
He dropped the van into gear. They turned north onto the Pacific Coast Highway as a pale watercolor wash of daylight began to spread across the ocean, sketching in the horizon line to the west. Joey took a deep breath, bracing herself for the nonstop activity the next sixteen hours would bring.
“Have you read the script for this one yet?” Pete glanced at her in the rearview mirror.
“Didn’t have much choice,” she said lightly.
“That bad?”
“Not my cup of tea. I’m not a big fan of comic book movies.”
“’Bout all they make around here anymore,” he said, “if you want to earn a decent living.”
“Don’t I know it.”
The screenplay was 125 pages of special effects–driven gobbledygook, but Joey had no doubt it would play well with the movie’s crucial fourteen- to twenty-year-old target audience.
“I heard this one’s about some new superhero.” Pete caught her eye in the mirror again.
“It’s actually the Legion of Phenomenals, based on some underground comics that have a big cult following. Nothing new, but they haven’t been used in any movies so far.”
“Why not just call it that, instead of UMPP?” He was asking about the working title for the movie. “Sounds like a noise you’d make if you got punched in the stomach.”
She couldn’t help smiling. “It’s code for Untitled Marcus Pray Project. You know how paranoid the producers are. They’re trying to keep the fanboys in the dark.”
“Like that’s going to stop them. The director’ll probably be posting pictures on Instagram from the set, and the studio won’t say boo to him.” Pete leaned back to talk to her over his shoulder. “Marcus Pray’s no Eastwood, even if he is a big dog in the business right now. I’m taking care of his trailer, and I got a mile-long list of special stuff that’s gotta be on board for him and his friends.” Pete gave the word a suggestive emphasis.
Marcus Pray was a powerful Hollywood hyphenate, a producer-director with a string of action-adventure blockbusters to his credit. This movie was sure to be another lucrative notch on his belt. Joey hadn’t worked with him before, and some of the stories she’d heard made her think twice before she signed onto this job.
***
Excerpt from FINAL CUT by Marjorie McCown. Copyright 2023 by Marjorie McCown. Reproduced with permission from Marjorie McCown. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Marjorie McCown spent 27 years in Hollywood working on the costumes for movies such as Forrest Gump, Apollo 13, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Her film career provides the inspiration for her Hollywood Mystery series of books that are set behind the scenes in the world of moviemaking and feature key costumer Joey Jessop as the main character. Her cozy murder mystery, FINAL CUT (Crooked Lane Books, June 2023) was chosen as an Amazon Editors' Pick in the best Mystery, Thriller, and Suspense category. Deadly Pleasures Magazine named FINAL CUT as one of the best cozy mysteries of 2023, and FINAL CUT was also named a Top Pick in the cozy mystery category for the Silver Falchion Award by Killer Nashville. STAR STRUCK, Book #2 in her Hollywood Mystery series published May 7, 2024. Marjorie is a member of Sisters-in-Crime and Mystery Writers of America.
