Lights, Camera, Infraction

By Patti Larsen

Making a murder!

Delaine isn’t so sure that agreeing to help her old friend with an indie film was the right choice, despite the fact she gets to work with a famous actor she admires. When a death interrupts filming, it’s clear that not only is the production in trouble, there’s more to the behind-the-camera drama than just homicide. Can she solve the crime before the movie collapses around her and the killer gets away with murder?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patti Larsen
• Release date: Apr 22, 2024

Patti Larsen

About me, huh? Well, my official bio reads like this: Patti Larsen is a multiple award-winning author with a passion for the voices in her head. But that sounds so freaking formal, doesn’t it? I’m a storyteller who hears character's demands so loudly I have to write them down. I love the idea of sports even though sports hate me. I’ve dabbled in everything from improv theater to film making and writing TV shows, singing in an all girl band to running my own hair salon.But always, always, writing books calls me home.I’ve had my sights set on world literary domination for a while now. Which means getting my books out there, to you, my darling readers. It’s the coolest thing ever, this job of mine, being able to tell stories I love, only to see them all shiny and happy in your hands... thank you for reading.As for the rest of it, I’m short (permanent), slightly round (changeable) and blonde (for ever and ever). I love to talk one on one about the deepest topics and can’t seem to stop seeing the big picture. I happily live on Prince Edward Island, Canada, home to Anne of Green Gables and the most beautiful red beaches in the world, with my pug overlord and overlady, six lazy cats and Gypsy Vanner gelding, Fynn.

Book preview

Lights, Camera, Infraction

Delaine Baker Cozy Mysteries: Two

Patti Larsen

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2024 by Patti Larsen

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

Chapter One

And, cut!

I hadn’t even had a chance to deliver my line and the director was already jumping on me. New mark, Delaine. Camera one, refocus, camera two, you need to hustle.

I felt for the mobile operator in his gyro rig, a heavy camera strapped to his chest on a metal exoskeleton that the tall, thin operator lugged around like a baby in a high-tech papoose. But he just nodded to Reat Trucco and shuffled to his first mark again while the first assistant director hustled toward me and inched me half a step to the left.

Sorry, she whispered to me. He’s in a mood.

When wasn’t he? I just flashed the young woman a smile and centered myself as the crew reset, sinking into the character I’d come to Maine to play.

It might have been a small indie film and a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Hollywood or Toronto or Vancouver, but aside from the cranky director’s issues with everything around him, it was amazing to be back to work. If I could be honest, the moment my old friend, Stella Brissette, reached out to ask me to take the role, I jumped at the chance. Of course, my agent, Misha Geervani, wasn’t thrilled with the pay scale or the fact that Stella opted to use non-union players to fill the ranks, but I’d loved the small part the moment I’d read Advice from Nowhere just a short week ago. Since I knew Stella well from our days on Ashes to Ashes, her presence in the writer’s room for most of the decade-long production meaning we’d become good friends over the years, you bet I chose to support her when she came to me asking for help.

I got to act a part I adored in a small setup with low stress and help a friend while getting out of Georgia in the middle of summer. Not my favorite role, mind you, but that was on me. (What role, you ask? Remind me and we’ll talk.) Honestly, where was the downside? I wasn’t the least bit worried about production value, either, despite the low budget. I might not have liked Reat Trucco and had a bit of a personal itch to scratch when it came to his directing style, but he knew how to make a movie shine, even if he was a bit of a jerk doing it.

Quiet on set! I opened my eyes, small smile rising as Crystal Lowne took over, the down-on-her-luck waitress who never let life get the better of her spirit ready to confront the man who’d taken her mother from her.

The fact she would end up a murderer two scenes from now? Meant I only had to be on set for three days and could easily make the vacation plans Hunter surprised me with work, so wins all around. But now was not the moment to think of my handsome husband or the beautiful red sand beaches of Prince Edward Island, Canada, our favorite summer spot, or the yummy seafood I’d be stuffing myself with the moment I landed in that magical little place.

And action!

My hand trembles as I hold the coffee in front of me, the only shield I have. That and my courage. I recognize the man in the booth, know that of all the people to walk into the diner where I’d found myself that it is him. The one I’ve had nightmares about. The man who’d slipped into my home in the dark and the cold and murdered my mother while I hid under her bed.

So long ago, but I’d know him anywhere, the reflection of his face when lightning lit the bedroom of my childhood memory as crisp and present as if it happened only a moment ago.

He is here and I am going to return the favor.

My shoe squeaks on the tile floor as I stumble to a halt at his table, my smile flickering, faltering. Does he see the way the coffee splashes into his mug as I pour? Can he sense my fear and excitement and dreaded loathing as he looks up from his menu? He barely glances at me, dismissing me. He’s handsome, the man who took my mother, dark hair slicked from his tanned skin, deep-set eyes the same near-black, full lips sneering as he reaches for his mug.

Death shouldn’t be so attractive. The Grim Reaper should be hideous, horrible. Instead, he is tall and broad-shouldered and has stubble on his wide jaw and could be someone’s husband, someone’s son. Am I wrong? Could I have his face mixed up with someone else’s?

His eyes meet mine and I know. Mom’s killer sits there, watching me.

"Toast, he says in a gruff voice. What are you looking at?"

My lips are frozen. I’m frozen, the world closing in around me. I feel a scream rising inside me as I back away from him, clutching at the coffee pot. I can’t do this. He knows it’s me and he’s going to kill me, too—

Cut! Print that! Moving on.

It took a moment to shake free of Crystal, to be Delaine again, while the crew broke, and the swing gang began tearing down the set. We were done in the coffee shop we’d taken over earlier that morning, and I knew from the shot list we’d be moving back to the constructed set near basecamp on the edge of Perrifield for lunch before shooting some outside scenes this afternoon.

Someone rushed to my side, a crew member taking the coffee pot from me before I turned to find Clea Beauregard practically vibrating with excitement as she clapped her hands in front of her like a little kid.

"That was amazing, she gushed. Delaine, you’re amazing." She eye-rolled, not letting me speak as I exhaled the last of Crystal for the moment and found myself grinning at her reaction. She’d begged to join me as my assistant and of course, I’d said yes. I knew how exciting a set could be for a first-timer and though she’d done very well and done a great job keeping me organized and not freaking out over the details, this was the point where she could have made herself a liability if she couldn’t keep herself together.

I wasn’t worried. She reined her enthusiasm in, even as she glanced over her shoulder at the handsome man I’d just been on screen with. Zenith Patullo, she gushed quietly, beaming a smile at me. I promised I wouldn’t ask for his autograph. She nodded sagely before giggling. "But Delaine. Zenith Freaking Patullo."

Of course, I laughed. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him out of character. He’d been filming for the better part of two days already, but Clea and I had arrived only last night. Besides, the famous leading man who made his name a decade ago in action flicks and steamy romances wasn’t exactly a friend. We’d only worked together once when he’d guest starred for three episodes on my show, but I had good memories of his work ethic and looked forward to reconnecting between shots, if possible.

I’ll see what I can do, I said to my friend, following the costume assistant when she gestured for me to do so, heading for the small trailer parked outside on Perrifield’s main street. The big-bellied man at the front door, seated next to the first AD, watched me with beady eyes, making me uncomfortable. I’d already been informed that Chip Perry was a local businessman who was bankrolling the bulk of the film’s production costs, so our brief handshake last night was more than enough interaction for me. Especially since he stared at me like I was something tasty he’d like to eat at some point if he could arrange it.

I’d encountered his type in the business far too often, thanks, producers who were little more than outsiders with deep pockets and a desire to pretend they were part of something they really knew nothing about. Not that I begrudged the funding, but when it came from someone who might expect more than his money was supposed to pay for?

Unacceptable and would get him in a world of hurt if he came anywhere near me with such an idea in mind.

I bypassed him by keeping the boom operator between us at the exact moment I exited, the long, black pole with the mic dangling from the end sufficient to keep me from having to do more than nod to the balding local in his cowboy boots and oversized corduroy jacket like he was some kind of misplaced Southern gentleman lost in the wild North.

Clea didn’t seem to notice, and I fully intended to keep it that way. Once outside, it only took a few minutes to shed the uniform for my own clothing and I was out and free for an hour or so, Clea happily hopping on the back of the golf cart as another assistant drove us back to basecamp.

It was a cute little town, locals coming out to stare and even to wave as we hurried by, and I giggled over Clea’s masterful waving in return. She was flushed and happy by the time we passed through the gate into our compound, stopping outside my trailer, clutching the clipboard she’d been carrying around with my call-times and script like her life depended on it.

Zenith landed at the same time as we did, and seeing an opening moment, I decided it was time to say hello. But as I approached him, a stunning brunette with a pinched expression stepped between us, frowning at me.

I’d only met his wife, Suri, once, but she’d never come across as jealous or anything, so I was surprised by her attitude that she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me with eyes as dark as her husband’s, Cupid’s bow lips pursed and pointed chin in the air. She might have looked a bit like an exotic Japanese elf, but she was all firecracker.

Zenith isn’t signing autographs right now.

Wow, okay. I just wanted to say hello, I said. "Delaine Baker, from Ashes to Ashes? We met during season four."

She shrugged.