Free Madison Avenue Shoot by Jessica Fletcher Page A

and had a little time to relax before changing for dinner. I hung up my suit, put on the robe the Waldorf had provided, and curled up in the armchair to look through the materials in the Eye Screen folder once more. On the front cover was the company logo, an ice-cream cone with an eye where the ball of ice cream usually is. On the back cover was their tagline: “We all scream for Eye Screen!” An echo of my days in the school yard when as children we chanted “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.” I wondered if children still did that.
    I had my lines memorized by now, as well as those of the others whose scripts were included in my folder. I reviewed the call sheet, which listed all the crew members. There were at least forty people named, eight of them production assistants. I gathered that the key prop was the person in charge of the prop crew, but what did the key grip do? And the gaffer? In addition to their roles on the set, the sheet listed the names and telephone numbers of everyone associated with the shoot. Sure enough, I found my name and cell phone number under the TALENT section, together with Matt Miller’s phone number under AGENT. We had an eight a.m. call, and the next column said car svc, which I already knew. I was to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and downstairs in the lobby by seven fifteen for the ride to the set.
    As far as I could tell, no detail was left off the call sheet. There were the names, addresses, and phone and fax numbers of the hotels where certain important people were staying—the director was at the Gansevoort—and lists of people representing the agency, the client, and the editorial company, even though all of them probably wouldn’t attend the shoot. Betsy Archibald would be there, of course. Her name was under AGENCY, as well as the names of several other Mindbenders staff. The company phone numbers were listed but not Betsy’s cell number. I wondered if she preferred not to be called directly. Antonio Tedeschi’s name stood alone under CLIENT. The commercial was being shot on location at an office building north of the city. At the bottom of the page was the name and address of the local hospital, something I hoped we wouldn’t need.
    I sifted through the papers, scripts, driving directions, and storyboards, and sighed. There was no more to learn from these pages. All my questions would be answered in the morning.
     
    “Jessica, I’d like you to meet Kevin Prendergast. He’s one of the principals of Mindbenders.”
    Matt Miller stood next to a slim man of medium height, not handsome but with pleasant features and arresting light green eyes. His long black hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a button-down yellow shirt and navy slacks. The sleeves of a blue cashmere sweater were looped around his neck.
    “So nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands.
    The waiter pulled out the table and I slid onto the banquette. “You don’t look old enough to run an advertising agency,” I said.
    “Looks can be deceiving,” he said, smiling. I had the feeling he had heard that observation before.
    “Kevin is my neighbor in Southampton,” Matt said. “Since we’re both in Manhattan tonight, I figured you might like to meet each other.”
    Matt’s wife and daughters lived in a charming Victorian house on the East End of Long Island, where many people in the advertising and entertainment industries keep second homes. Matt’s house was his family’s main residence, however, and his children went to school in the village. He maintained an apartment in Manhattan in addition to his office, commuting back and forth on weekends by helicopter when he could hitch a flight from one of his wealthier neighbors, or by train or jitney when he couldn’t.
    “And by the way,” Matt said to him, “thanks for the referral of my new client.”
    Prendergast shrugged. “You’re the only literary agent I know.”
    “Not exactly a ringing endorsement,” Matt