Death of a Blue Movie Star

equipment, wouldn’t have to amortize much, only the more expensive items…. If you were smart, the net-net could be great.” Hathaway gazed off into the evening sky, seeing a huge balance sheet in the stars. “If you’ve got a success you’re looking at pretty much pure profit.”
    They finished their beers and Rune got up to get more. She shut the camera off. He said, “I wasn’t much help, was I?”
    An older man in a red windbreaker …
    “No, you were real helpful,” Rune said.
    As she returned with the beers she felt his eyes on her. And she knew the Question was coming. She didn’t know exactly what form it would take but, as a single woman in New York, she’d have bet a thousand dollars that Hathaway was about to ask her the Question.
    He took a sip of beer and asked, “So. Hey. You want to get a pizza or something?”
    The Pizza version of the Question. A pretty common one.
    “I’m really beat tonight….”
    Which was one of the classic Answers. But she added, “I really
am
exhausted. But how ’bout a rain check?”
    He smiled a little bashfully, which she liked. “Got it. You, uh, going with anybody?”
    She thought for a moment, then said, “I have absolutely no idea.”
    He stood up, shook her hand like the gentleman his mother had probably always instructed him to be. He said, “I’m going to check out some numbers about documentary films.” He considered something and smiled. “You know, even if it’s a flop, hell, you’ve got a great tax write-off.”

     
    “I’m not much help, I’m afraid,” Nicole D’Orleans said to Rune the next morning.
    “Somebody wearing a red windbreaker or jacket. Anybody at all. Wearing a hat. Like a cowboy hat maybe. Hanging around the set. Maybe a fan of Shelly’s or something. Maybe somebody she knew.”
    Nicole shook her head.
    “He attacked me at my loft, just after I first interviewed Shelly. Then I saw him just after Shelly was killed, outside Lame Duck. And I talked to a witness in the first bombing. He thinks he saw him leaving the theater just before the bomb went off. He could be young or old. You have any idea?”
    “Sorry. I—”
    The front buzzer rang and Nicole went to answer the door.
    She returned with Tommy Savorne, Shelly’s former boyfriend.
    The first thing Rune noticed was a belt buckle in the shape of Texas.
    She thought of Sam Healy.
    Who still hadn’t called.
    No, don’t think about him now.
    Tommy absently polished the buckle with his thumb. The metal tongue went right through Dallas.
    “Hey.” He smiled. He squinted, meaning: Sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.
    She stuck her hand out and as they shook she said, “Rune.”
    “Right, sure. How’s your film coming?”
    “Slow, but moving along.”
    Then he said to Nicole, “You’re looking pretty good today.”
    There was silence for a moment.
    Odd woman out. Rune stood up.
    “I better be going. I’m late for work.”
    “Naw, stay, stay,” Tommy said. “I only stopped by for a minute. I wanted to ask Nicole something. But maybe you’re interested too, Rune. Want a job?”
    “I better not take on another one. I’m not doing too well with the one I’ve got,” Rune said.
    “Like, doing what?” Nicole asked Tommy.
    “I’m doing a tape on how to make vegetarian appetizers. I need a chef.”
    Rune shook her head. “Unless they come in a boil-pouch you’re talking to the wrong person.”
    “I don’t know,” Nicole said. “Would I have to, you know, talk?”
    “Not on camera. All you’ve got to do is mix up stuff. Garlic and avocado and sprouts and peanut butter … Well, not all together. I mean, they’re great recipes. Come on, honey. It’ll be a snap. It’s for one of my infomercials.”
    She said, “You’re sure I wouldn’t have to, like, memorize dialogue?”
    Tommy said, “Naw, it’s all voice-over. You just make the food, then we record the vocal track after. Do as many takes as you want.”
    Nicole looked at Rune. “You’re sure you don’t want to?”
    Tommy said to her, “I really could use two.”
    “Full plate right at the moment.”
    Nicole asked, “And I’d get paid?”
    “Oh, sure. We aren’t talking union. But the client’ll cough up a hundred bucks an hour for talent. Should be about three hours tops, with the prep time and any reshoots.”
    “What about my fingernails?” She held them up—an inch-long and glossy burnt-umber.
    “Come on,” he chided, grinning. “You’re looking for excuses.”
    “Go