My Dad, the Private Eye: The Falling Star

CHAPTER 12

When Dad got back to his motel room, he started to watch the video recordings from the movie studio. He'd downloaded about a hundred hours of video onto ten of the guard's flash drives! At first, he'd just wanted to copy the video from the camera that was shooting the hotel set, but I recommended he make copies of everything. Who knows, I told him, maybe one of the others captured a shot of someone sneaking into the studio or the sound stage.

But that meant he had a lot of video to scan. And it was all dim, fuzzy video. When I called him around midnight, Dad's eyes were going bloodshot. "I don't know if I have the patience for this," he told me, exhausted.

"Yeah, but this is what private eyes do, right?" I said. "Most of it is this kind of thing or staking out someone's house all night long."

Dad finished scanning one full drive then started watching another one, expecting more endless hours of dull video. But instead, up came a bright, cheap-looking video of the security guard dressed as a Mafia hitman with a gun. "That's right, I popped her! Right between the eyes!" the guard said on the video. "And now I'm gonna pop you!" BLAM BLAM BLAM!!! He fired the gun right at the camera.

I could see Dad's computer screen on FaceTime, and I was just as shocked as he was – by the guard's horrible acting. "Whoa, is that the guard? What a ham!"

"Guess that one didn't copy over his demo properly," Dad said as he went onto the next drive.

Six... hours... later... Dad was still scanning videos. I was long gone by then, but, on his umpteenth cup of coffee, Dad was barely able to keep his eyes open as he watched yet another blah, grainy video on his laptop.

About to pass out, Dad almost missed a man crossing the frame, walking onto the studio lot and towards the main soundstage. But something about the man caught Dad's eye, and he snapped his eyes open. "Huh?" He stopped and played the image in real time. The man suspiciously looked both ways before entering the sound stage. Rolling back the video, Dad then zoomed in and froze the image.

It was Rafe Blight!

Dad checked the time of the recording: It was 2:00 a.m.

What was the Director doing showing up at the studio in the middle of the night?

The next day at the studio, Dad sat away from the other extras and FaceTimed me, keeping his voice down. (I kept my voice down too since I was in study hall at the time.)

"I'm telling you, it makes sense now," Dad whispered. "Rafe Blight must've pulled out the nails so Patty would fall through the window!"

"And you said she was feeling dizzy," I whispered back. "Maybe she was drunk. I've been reading up on her. She was a world-class booze hound."

"And Blight knew it!" Dad said, trying not to get too excited. "He knew she'd need to lean against the window for support."

"But, wait a minute, why would he want to kill Patty Delaroy?" I wondered.

"I don't know," Dad shrugged. "Maybe he thought she was ruining his movie. I know she gave him a hard time." Dad started thinking. "I've got to talk to that make-up lady. If Patty was drunk, or maybe even on drugs or something, she would know it." He hung up and headed to the sound stage.

And I returned to studying about the War of 1812. Boring! Talking with my dad about investigating a murder was a whole lot more interesting. And I thought I was really helping with the investigation too.

Anyway, on the set, Dad found Blight and the crew setting up a shot while the make-up artist touched up Sareena Vacarra's make-up nearby. Then Sareena got up to join Blight at the camera. Dad couldn't hear them from where he was standing, but he could see Blight mouth the word "beautiful." Sareena responded with a sexy smile.

Then, as Blight guided Sareena into place on the set, he gave her a pat on her butt! She didn't resist at all, and Dad was surprised to see this. He took a mental note: Sareena and Blight might have a thing together. This contributes to Blight's motive!

Proud of himself for being in the right place at the right time, Dad walked up to the make-up artist. "Hi, I'm Drew Winnette. I'm a private investigator," he said a little too cockily.

"I thought you were an extra," the lady said as she organized her make-up things.

"I'm an extra too," Dad said, nervously clearing his throat. "I just have a few questions about Patty Delaroy. Did you ever see her drinking or taking drugs or anything?"

"What?" the lady snapped.

"You know, in her dressing room in between shots?"

"Are you really a private detective?" the lady asked, staring down Dad.

"Don't I seem like one?" Dad wondered insecurely.

The make-up lady started to walk off. Dad followed. "Listen, she was a raging bitch," the lady said quietly, "but she'd been sober for years."

"What about pills?" Dad asked.

"Strongest thing I found in her dressing room was extra-strength Tylenol."

Dad stopped and thought about this as the make-up artist walked off. Trying to peg Patty Delaroy as a hopeless drunk or drug addict hadn't worked out. Sure, he had Blight on tape, and he'd seen Blight get quite friendly with the new star of the movie, but, if Patty wasn't drunk or stoned, Dad still had to figure out how Blight might have set her up to fall to her death.