Free Angel's Verdict by Mary Stanton

of movie.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But to tell you the absolute truth, I’d rather she’d haunt somewhere else. You don’t happen to know any good exorcists, do you?”
    Flurry snorted again. “Come on, Phillip. We’ve had this discussion before.” She looked at Bree in appeal. “I am not, I repeat, not putting a woo-woo slant on this movie. I don’t care what kind of ratings it’ll bring in. This movie—and the book I’m writing—take a credible, serious look at a major injustice. We’re going for the awards with this one, Phil. You promised me.”
    “Yeah. I did. But who knew?”
    “I agree with Flurry,” Justine said. “All this hocuspocus. It’s nonsense. That idiot girl is playing right into your bias, Phillip, and you can’t see it.”
    “This isn’t about Tyra necessarily,” Mercury said.
    “This is all about Tyra.” Justine’s cheeks were flushed.
    “I’m not sure I have a clear picture of the problem,” Bree said. “What is this about exactly?”
    “I bring my movies in on budget and on time,” Mercury said. “This movie is over budget and late. That’s usually the director’s fault. This time it isn’t. Someone’s engaging in sabotage. Might be Haydee. Might not.” He glanced at Justine and away again, so quickly that Bree almost didn’t catch it.
    “Why?” Bree said.
    “Why?”
    Bree waited.
    “Somebody hates my guts, is why. Tyra says it’s Haydee. Haydee doesn’t like the script.” He ran his hands through his hair. Bree wondered what drugs his hair stylist was on. The orange color was truly bizarre. “And since I’m responsible for the movie, she’s after me. The investors hate my guts too.” His face sagged. “Everybody hates my guts. But the only person who hates my guts enough to want to destroy my film is Haydee Quinn. Everybody else has money riding on it.”
    Flurry sighed. “Phillip, your reputation is going to survive a two-million-dollar debacle, if this in fact turns into a debacle, which it won’t. No.” Her expression darkened. “No. The obvious answer is usually the right one. If anyone’s trying to sabotage this movie, it’s the Bullochs.”
    “The daughters of Alexander and the granddaughters of Consuelo,” Justine said with a rather grand air.
    “You wouldn’t believe the ton of research I did for this script,” Flurry said. “It’s a terrific story. Just terrific. The Bullochs are petrified that my work could force the powers that be to reopen the case.”
    “That’d create a sensation of sorts, I suppose,” Bree offered.
    “You see, they executed the wrong man. ” Flurry jumped out of her chair and began to pace up and down. “I spent an entire year looking up old court records, the old police file, and all the old evidence. I even found an old guy that actually worked on the case. Robert E. Lee Kowalski. He was Eddie O’Malley’s sergeant. O’Malley was the cop that forced a confession out of Bagger Bill Norris. Kowalski’s parked out in a nursing home near Tybee Island.” She smacked her hand into her fist. “He’s, like, a hundred and three, or something, but he remembers the case like it was yesterday. I’ve been to see him a few times, and I’m going to see him a couple more.”
    “Ninety-two,” Mercury said. “Kowalski’s ninety-two.”
    Flurry had the light of a crusader in her eye. “There were payoffs. Bribes in the right places. They railroaded Bagger Bill Norris right into the electric chair. All so the real killer could go free.”
    Bree was momentarily at sea. “Bagger Bill was . . .”
    “The murderer,” Justine said tartly. “Owner of the Tropicana Tide nightclub. Unless you made that up, too, Flurry. I’m from Savannah myself, and I don’t remember ever hearing a thing about it.”
    “That’s because you weren’t from the wrong side of the tracks,” Flurry said flippantly. “Norris was Haydee’s pimp,” Flurry said to Bree. “Not a role model for your children or mine,