Free Diagnosis Murder 3 - The Shooting Script by Lee Goldberg Page B

stance. The director waited a moment, then yelled "Action!"
    Delia gave her adversary a thin smile. "I hope you've got a good dentist."
    "I hope you picked out your tombstone, Storm," the man growled, swinging his bat at her
    Delia ducked under his swing, rammed her bat into his gut, and as he doubled over, whacked him across the face with it. The man went down.
    She twirled her bat one more time in a self-satisfied show of victory, stepped over the groaning man and continued on her way.
    "Don't forget to pick up your teeth before you go home," she said.
    "Cut!" The director yelled. "That's a print. Check the gate. Let's move on."
    "What gate?" Mark asked Morgan.
    "They're checking to see if there's a hair or lint or anything where the film moves past the lens of the camera," Morgan said. "If there is, they've got to reshoot the scene."
    Lacey approached Mark and Steve, the bat still in her hand.
    "Good evening, Detective," Lacey said to Steve, then glanced at Mark. "And Detective's Daddy. Are you making any progress with your investigation?"
    "I think so," Steve replied. "You have a minute to talk?"
    "Sure," she said, effortlessly twirling her bat again. "They've got to relight for the coverage."
    "The coverage?" Mark asked.
    "The same shot you just saw but from other angles," she replied. "What we just did was the master, the wide-angle view of the scene. Now we're going to spend the night doing the whole scene again and again and again in different pieces."
    "I see," Mark said. "So that's why you could slip out of the scene and your stunt double could slip in. You'll just cut around that moment with the other footage. The action will move so fast, from so many different angles, that no one will ever know you didn't beat up those guys yourself."
    "That's movie magic," she said, suddenly whirling around and striking the director across the knees with her bat. Mark caught his breath, but the director didn't even flinch.
    "Great scene, Lacey," the director said. "You're Eastwood in a Wonderbra."
    'What makes you think he doesn't wear one, too?" Lacey said, then tossed the bat to Mark, who caught it.
    The bat was made of rubber.
    "I hope I haven't shattered all your illusions," she said to Mark with a mischievous grin.
    "Not at all," Mark said. "Seeing through illusions is something of a hobby for me."
    "Is that so?" She cocked an eyebrow. "Are we playing cat and mouse, Dr. Sloan?"
    "I don't think so," Mark said. "Are we?"
    "Why waste the energy?" Steve said, "There's no mystery about who killed Cleve Kershaw and Amy Butler."
    "That's good to know," Lacey said, heading for her mo bile home, Mark and Steve keeping pace on either side of her. "Who did it?"
    "You," Steve said.
    She didn't break her stride. "Then why aren't you reading me my rights?"
    "I thought you might try to convince me I'm wrong first," Steve said.
    "You're wrong," she said.
    "Is that the best you can do?" Steve said.
    "I don't need to do more," she said, turning to face them as she reached her trailer. "I didn't do it."
    "All the evidence says you did," Steve said. "You've also got motive, means, and opportunity, which, according to the detective handbook, makes you the killer."
    "I feel like I'm doing the same scene I've already shot, only from another angle," she said. "We had this conversation. The Mob killed my ex-husband, Lt. Sloan. Not me."
    "He's already an ex-husband?" Steve said. "You don't waste any time, do you?"
    "No, I don't," she said. "So, if you're not going to arrest me, we're done."
    "Let me see." Steve glanced at his watch and sighed. "Oh hell, if I arrest you now, I'm going to be up all night filling out reports and fielding questions from the media. I really need my sleep. Tell you what, maybe we'll do it tomorrow. How's that?"
    And with that, Lacey McClure went into her mobile home and closed the door on them.
    Steve looked at his dad. "Was that interesting enough for you?"
    Mark nodded. "Very."
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    Steve dropped Mark off at