Annabeth picked up the teapot and began to pour tea into mugs. “At least he came back,” she said. “That other one didn’t, do you remember, you were telling me? Some boy who worked on the movie that Arrow Normand had a crush on. He went to Vegas with her and now he doesn’t even work on the movie anymore.”
“He’s got another job,” Gregor said. “That’s Steve Becker. Carl Frank got rid of him and packed him off to another movie. I presume because he didn’t want Becker hanging around with Arrow Normand anymore. What I don’t understand is this—after they all got back from Vegas, Arrow Normand was hanging around with Mark Anderman, right?”
“Right,” Stewart said. “These girls have terrible taste in men, truly. They date the worst twits, you wouldn’t believe it. They never get interested in somebody whose career is on their own level.”
“You don’t get interested in women whose career is on your level,” Annabeth said. “And if you tell me that’s different because you’re a man, I’ll hit you with this teapot.”
“Seriously,” Gregor said. “They were hanging around together, Arrow Normand and Mark Anderman.”
“Yes, I said,” Stewart said.
“He wasn’t hanging around with Kendra Rhode?”
“Well, of course he was hanging around with Kendra Rhode,” Stewart said. “They run in packs, these girls. They’re always together.”
“Okay,” Gregor said. “But here’s the thing. The Vegas trip was weeks ago, right?”
“Right,” Stewart said. “In November.”
“And in November, Carl Frank ran interference with Steve Becker, got him a job on another movie, and got him out of the way. But I can’t find any indication whatsoever that Carl Frank attempted to do anything to get rid of Mark Anderman.”
“Don’t look at me,” Stewart said. “I wasn’t aware of the Steve Becker thing. But Carl Frank. Now there’s an interesting case. Have you met him yet?”
“No,” Gregor said. “Clara’s arranged a meeting for this afternoon. Why is he an interesting case?”
“He’s not what he seems, for one thing,” Stewart said. “He’s supposed to be head of public relations for the movie, but that’s ridiculous. You don’t send somebody of that caliber to be director of public relations for a movie that isn’t even in the can yet, never mind park him out on location for months at a time. Granted, none of us expected to be here this long, that’s a function of the twits. But you don’t do that. Carl Frank is a public relations specialist like I’m Father Christmas.”
“What is he then?” Gregor asked.
“Michael Bardman’s hit man,” Stewart said promptly. “Ask anyone. They all knew it. Even that woman, that Miss Beecham, who runs the local paper, she knew it. Bardman’s a notorious control freak. He’s got ten movies going at once and he hates to be out of control of any of them, so he always has somebody. On this movie, Carl Frank is that somebody.”
“And what does he do as that somebody?” Gregor asked.
Stewart seemed to drain the tea in his cup in a single gulp. “He spies,” he said. “He spies on all of us, but especially on the girls, because the girls are the big trouble. They get drunk. They get doped to the gills. They careen around in public making spectacles of themselves. They get the local population totally pissed, and then they’re late for work. Or worse. We’ve had three-day stretches where nothing got done because one or the other of them was indisposed. The one truly satisfying thing about being stuck on this godforsaken rock is the fact that the local hospital doesn’t deal in admissions for ‘exhaustion.’ I like that doctor, that Ingleford guy. They’d show up screwed up, he’d pump their stomachs and send them home.”
“Did you know that Mark Anderman and Kendra Rhode were married during that trip to Vegas?” Gregor asked.
It was silly of him to care that he’d been able to cause surprise, but he did. Stewart looked so wonderfully flabber-gasted.
“For God’s sake,” Stewart said. “What was that about?”
“I think it was proof positive that Kendra Rhode was not always in control of herself and her life,” Gregor said. “My guess is a lot too much alcohol. That is, by the way, why Kendra Rhode and the other women were angry at Jack Bullard for publishing that picture. The light contamination comes from a glint off Mark Anderman’s wedding ring. Once you know what it is, it’s easy to see.”