Suspect in High Heels, page 20
"You don't want to touch those," a voice behind me said.
I spun around to find a woman watching me with a smile. Her heart-shaped face was line-free and expertly made up beneath a glossy cap of dark brown hair. Her effortlessly chic wool slacks and a cashmere sweater with low-heeled boots appeared expensive enough to eliminate her as a crew member.
As if reading my mind, she walked over with an outstretched hand. "I'm Selma Frost."
"Maddie Springer." I shook it. "Frost? Any relation to the director?"
Selma nodded, her smile unwavering. "Jasper's my husband." She tilted her head, assessing me. "You're not in the cast."
"No," I admitted. "I'm a friend of Dana Dashel. The Elf Princess. I'm just here for the weekend."
"Me, too." She gave a good-natured grimace. "We made a good choice, didn't we? This place is so much better than the shoe department at Saks."
Shoe department? I liked her already.
She glanced at the swords. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"
"I wasn't going to touch them," I assured her.
She smiled. "My husband has a thing about realism, especially when it comes to boy's toys like these. They may look like innocent props, but I promise you they are lethally sharp. And I'm guessing there isn't a doctor within fifty miles of here, let alone a hospital. It's not exactly a bustling metropolis, is it?"
I grinned. "Sounds like you're no more a fan of Moose Haven than your husband."
"It's pretty enough," she said vaguely. "But let's just say I won't be sad to get back to LA on Monday. Isn't it funny that my husband filmed the entire Fast and Dangerous franchise in Rio, and I wasn't there for a single one of them? Now I make the time to visit him on set, and it's in the middle of nowhere. Nowhere is no place for a city girl." She paused. "Are you in the film industry, Maddie?"
I shook my head.
The corner of her perfectly lined mouth quirked up in amusement. "In that case, I apologize for my husband's behavior."
"You don't have to do that," I told her.
"Yes, I probably do," she said. "He can be pretty intense when he's working. I'm sure I needn't say more."
She definitely needn't.
"His bark is worse than his bite," she added. "Although he's definitely got a loud bark."
I smiled politely, not wanting to risk offending her by criticizing her husband. Even though she was absolutely right.
Suddenly the sound of a door slamming cracked through the cool air.
I spun around to see Dana exiting Jasper Frost's trailer, her hands fisted at her sides, her face contoured with anger.
"Will you excuse me?" I said. "It was very nice to meet you, Selma."
"You, too, Maddie," she called after me, her eyes on the trailer door, her brows drawn down in confusion.
I caught up with Dana at the door to her own trailer and watched as she wordlessly ripped it open and stormed inside.
I followed her in, noticing Selma still standing where I'd left her, watching us as I pulled the door closed behind me. "What's wrong?" I asked, concerned. "What happened with Frost?"
"Nothing." Dana tried to take off her costume with shaking fingers, but she seemed unable to get a grip on the tiny buttons.
"Here, let me help," I offered, taking over.
She breathed heavily, her mouth clenched in a taut line.
"Was it about that last scene? Because I think you showed some genuine emotion there," I told her.
But she shook her head. "No."
"He cut some lines for tomorrow?"
More head shaking.
"Was it—"
"Look, I don't want to talk about it, okay?" she barked out, cutting me off.
I pursed my lips. "Okay."
She let out a long, shaky breath. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay." I assured her, finishing the last of her buttons. "Clearly he upset you."
"That's an understatement," she said, fire still flashing in her eyes. She steadied herself with a hand on my shoulder as she stepped out of the costume. I folded the voluminous layers as best I could and draped it over a chair.
"That should go back to wardrobe," she mumbled.
"Oh." I reached for it. "I can take it. Just tell me—"
"That's alright. I'll do it tomorrow. Everyone's gone by now, anyway."
I cleared off a chair and sat. "Dana, what did he say?" I asked softly.
"I said I don't want to talk about it." She flung her wig onto the table, kicked aside her shoes, and reached for her jeans.
"He didn't fire you, did he?"
"No." She pulled her sweater over her head. "Look, let's just go get a drink so I can put this entire day behind me, okay?"
"Sure. Okay." I waited while she scrubbed off her makeup, hoping that a drink or two in a different environment might help her relax enough to talk about whatever had angered her so much.
PERIL IN HIGH HEELS
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Gemma Halliday, Suspect in High Heels
