A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Nancy Drew

Seated on the floor beside the coffee table with his legs curled beneath him, a pencil in his hand, and a small stack of index cards he'd found in a desk at his elbow, Harry studied the list Zayn had made out of everyone who'd been on the set of Destiny the day his wife was murdered. Beside each person's name, Zayn had put their job on the film crew, and Harry was copying each name and the person's job title onto a separate index card so he'd be able to jot notes about the individual when Zayn began talking.

Zayn sat on the sofa beside him, watching him and carefully suppressing his smile at the absurd notion of Harry being able to succeed where his team of expensive criminal attorneys and professional investigators had failed. Clad in cherry wool slacks and a matching bulky knit sweater, with his long hair gathered at the nape and bound with a jaunty red and yellow scarf, he looked more like an enchanting high school boy than a teacher, and he bore absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to any detective, real or imaginary. Sunlight streamed in from the windows behind him, gilding his shiny hair with russet and gold, highlighting his glowing skin and vivid colouring. Harry interrupted his pleasurable contemplation of his profile by turning his emerald eyes up to his and saying in a puzzled voice, "I saw Destiny, although they had re-shot the ending with stand-ins. Somehow, I thought there would have been lots more people involved in making a movie like that."

"There were dozens more, but they weren't in Dallas," Zayn said, reluctantly turning his attention to the business at hand. "When a big picture is going to be shot on several different locations, it's more efficient to divide a large film crew into several units and assign each to a particular location. That way, they've already made whatever preparations are necessary before the cast and primary crew arrives. The people listed on that sheet were part of the Dallas unit. There were others who'd been in Dallas for an earlier segment of the filming. They aren't on that list because I'd already sent them home."

"Why did you do that?"

"Because the picture was millions of dollars over budget, and I was trying to cut corners. We were nearly finished shooting, I wasn't anticipating any need for extra hands, so I kept only the primary crew with me."

Harry was listening to him with an expression of such rapt fascination that a smile tugged at his lips. "Any other general questions before I tell you what happened that day?"

"Several questions," Harry said with great feeling, glancing at the titles beside the names on his list. "What is a best boy anyway? I've wondered about that every time I watch movie credits."

"A best boy is a gaffer's first assistant."

Harry rolled his eyes at him, trying to tease him and ease him into the discussion about the murder, which Harry knew he was dreading. Harry also thought it wise to learn all the details he could even if they seemed unimportant at the moment. "That's very informative, Mr. Malik. Now, what's a gaffer?"

His ploy worked, because Zayn chuckled at his expression. "The head gaffer is both the creative and physical right-hand man of the director of photography. He's in charge of all the electricians on the set and their placement of lights for colour intensity, overall values—all that."

"What's a grip?"

"Grips handle props and anything else that needs moving. A key grip also has a best boy."

"Don't, please, tell me a key grip is in charge of moving keys?" he joked.

Zayn smiled at the way his romantic mouth tilted up at the corners and at the successful effort he was making to keep the discussion on a light-hearted level. "A key grip is in charge of the other grips."

"What's a production assistant?"

"A gofer, basically, who runs errands and reports to the assistant directors."