speeding ticket.
"Do
you know how fast you were going, sir?" The patrolman loomed over the low
car, his tone less polite than his words. His name tag read SANDOVAL.
"Not
exactly, but certainly far too fast."
Officer
Sandoval, rather young under his helmet, looked nonplussed at such ready
agreement. "Your record is pretty clean for someone who drives as if he's
looking for a runway to land on."
"Usually
I only do this in rather remote places." Kenzie handed over his license
and registration. Sandoval looked down at the documents, then his head snapped
up and he stared. "My God, you're Kenzie Scott!"
Since
the fact wasn't news to him, Kenzie merely nodded.
"I
love your movies, sir," the young man said, his bravado replaced by
bashfulness.
"I'm
glad you enjoy them, Officer Sandoval."
"Especially
that one where you played a cop whose partner was killed." His face
darkened. "The way you kicked in the wall after his death--it's exactly
like that."
"Have
you had a partner killed?" Kenzie asked quietly.
"Yeah."
The patrolman looked away. "You made it so ... real."
"Movie
deaths should never be presented as without consequences. It's important to
remember the tragedy and pain involved." Many movies forgot that, but
Kenzie didn't. He'd never taken on a role that had him killing people as if
they were only targets in a shooting gallery, with no dignity or value.
"Anyone
who's ever pulled a burning body from a car knows how painful and messy death
really is." Sandoval lowered his ticket pad. "Would you mind giving
me your autograph, sir? Not for me, but for my wife. She's a big fan of yours,
too."
"Of
course." Kenzie pulled a small notebook from his glove box. "What's
her name?"
"Annie
Sandoval."
Kenzie
scribbled a note to her. "Here you are. My regards to Annie."
"Thanks,
Mr. Scott." The officer reverently folded the page and tucked it inside
his jacket. "It's been a real pleasure to meet you, sir."
As
he turned to leave, Kenzie asked, "What about the ticket?"
Sandoval
grinned. "I'm letting you off with a warning. Have a good day, Mr.
Scott."
"You
do the same, Officer." Kenzie waited until the patrolman roared off, then
pulled the Ferrari onto the road, his mouth twisted.
He
never asked for special treatment.
He
didn't have to.
----
CHAPTER 5
V al scowled
as she hung up the phone. As if Rainey didn't have enough troubles at the
moment. She hit a button on her autodialer. A few seconds later, the phone was
picked up in California. "Hello, this is the office of Raine
Marlowe."
Recognizing
the voice, Val said, "Hi, Rainey. I thought your faithful minion would
answer. You must have a zillion things this close to the start of production."
"Emmy
had a doctor's appointment, so I'm answering the phone myself. The production
designer and English location manager and I are trading frantic calls to find a
new manor house for the Randalls, since the one we were going to use fell
through."
"Surely
England is rife with photogenic manor houses."
"Yes,
but we need one close to base camp since it would add time and money to move to
a new location for those scenes."
Reminding
herself that she hadn't called to talk about the movie, Val said, "There's
some bad news here in Baltimore, Rainey."
"Oh,
no! Has something happened to Kate or Rachel or Laurel?"
Val
should have realized that Rainey would immediately think of their old gang, the
"Circle of Friends" forged during their school days. "We're
fine, but your grandfather was in a bad car accident. I gather the prognosis
isn't good. I thought you should know."
After
a long silence, Rainey said, "Yes, I suppose I should. Did my grandmother
ask you to call?"
"Hardly.
I run into her occasionally at the supermarket, and she looks as forbidding as
ever. It was a friend who works at GBMC Hospital who saw that your grandfather
had come in and let me know so I could call you. Apparently your grandmother
hasn't left his side."
"After
fifty-plus years of marriage, even someone as
"Do
you know how fast you were going, sir?" The patrolman loomed over the low
car, his tone less polite than his words. His name tag read SANDOVAL.
"Not
exactly, but certainly far too fast."
Officer
Sandoval, rather young under his helmet, looked nonplussed at such ready
agreement. "Your record is pretty clean for someone who drives as if he's
looking for a runway to land on."
"Usually
I only do this in rather remote places." Kenzie handed over his license
and registration. Sandoval looked down at the documents, then his head snapped
up and he stared. "My God, you're Kenzie Scott!"
Since
the fact wasn't news to him, Kenzie merely nodded.
"I
love your movies, sir," the young man said, his bravado replaced by
bashfulness.
"I'm
glad you enjoy them, Officer Sandoval."
"Especially
that one where you played a cop whose partner was killed." His face
darkened. "The way you kicked in the wall after his death--it's exactly
like that."
"Have
you had a partner killed?" Kenzie asked quietly.
"Yeah."
The patrolman looked away. "You made it so ... real."
"Movie
deaths should never be presented as without consequences. It's important to
remember the tragedy and pain involved." Many movies forgot that, but
Kenzie didn't. He'd never taken on a role that had him killing people as if
they were only targets in a shooting gallery, with no dignity or value.
"Anyone
who's ever pulled a burning body from a car knows how painful and messy death
really is." Sandoval lowered his ticket pad. "Would you mind giving
me your autograph, sir? Not for me, but for my wife. She's a big fan of yours,
too."
"Of
course." Kenzie pulled a small notebook from his glove box. "What's
her name?"
"Annie
Sandoval."
Kenzie
scribbled a note to her. "Here you are. My regards to Annie."
"Thanks,
Mr. Scott." The officer reverently folded the page and tucked it inside
his jacket. "It's been a real pleasure to meet you, sir."
As
he turned to leave, Kenzie asked, "What about the ticket?"
Sandoval
grinned. "I'm letting you off with a warning. Have a good day, Mr.
Scott."
"You
do the same, Officer." Kenzie waited until the patrolman roared off, then
pulled the Ferrari onto the road, his mouth twisted.
He
never asked for special treatment.
He
didn't have to.
----
CHAPTER 5
V al scowled
as she hung up the phone. As if Rainey didn't have enough troubles at the
moment. She hit a button on her autodialer. A few seconds later, the phone was
picked up in California. "Hello, this is the office of Raine
Marlowe."
Recognizing
the voice, Val said, "Hi, Rainey. I thought your faithful minion would
answer. You must have a zillion things this close to the start of production."
"Emmy
had a doctor's appointment, so I'm answering the phone myself. The production
designer and English location manager and I are trading frantic calls to find a
new manor house for the Randalls, since the one we were going to use fell
through."
"Surely
England is rife with photogenic manor houses."
"Yes,
but we need one close to base camp since it would add time and money to move to
a new location for those scenes."
Reminding
herself that she hadn't called to talk about the movie, Val said, "There's
some bad news here in Baltimore, Rainey."
"Oh,
no! Has something happened to Kate or Rachel or Laurel?"
Val
should have realized that Rainey would immediately think of their old gang, the
"Circle of Friends" forged during their school days. "We're
fine, but your grandfather was in a bad car accident. I gather the prognosis
isn't good. I thought you should know."
After
a long silence, Rainey said, "Yes, I suppose I should. Did my grandmother
ask you to call?"
"Hardly.
I run into her occasionally at the supermarket, and she looks as forbidding as
ever. It was a friend who works at GBMC Hospital who saw that your grandfather
had come in and let me know so I could call you. Apparently your grandmother
hasn't left his side."
"After
fifty-plus years of marriage, even someone as
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