Marnie Redd:Wow, that’s… Really?
Officer Truchaud:You didn’t know?
Marnie Redd:Can I be honest with you?
Officer Truchaud:I would like that.
Marnie Redd:Ben has always had that dream… It’s sweet but I think his parents indulged him. They thought they were being supportive. I’m sure they didn’t see the harm, but now here he is, making claims like that. It’s a little sad. I don’t mean to sound heartless, but I’d be willing to bet that we’ll never hear about his screenplay again.
Officer Truchaud:What makes you say that?
Marnie Redd:I guess anything is possible. We’ll see. But I think Ben is going to keep on dreaming, no matter what. I imagine he’ll be quietly writing away, making up his little stories. Like I said, I wish him the best. I really do.
Cannes Film FestivalDay Twelve
(The Final Day)
Lou
“I guess we’d have to hear what the motive was,” Marnie said, her eyes trained on me. “We should have all the information in hand before wego blow up our lives.”
“You said it was the right thing to do!”
“I don’t know anything! Do I seem like the kind of person who understands what risks we’re taking here? The risks wealreadytook by not reporting this immediately?”
“Yes!” Constance and I said in unison.
“You’re the pack leader,” Constance said. “We’re doing what you’re telling us to do.”
“I’m the youngest one!” Marnie said.
Constance and I looked at each other.
“So?” I said.
Marnie sighed. “Fine. If I decide, then let’s go somewhere more private.”
The market was bustling now. There was a line of people at every stall, merchants yelling out deals, probably. Since I’d arrived in Cannes, I’d been surrounded by Americans. Everyone at the festival spoke English.This was a surreal reminder that we were in France. We were criminals at large in a foreign land.
We made our way out of the hall, the three of us in a neat row of guilty-looking girls. Outside, the crisp air was giving way to sunshine, rays starting to warm up the facades of the stone houses. The exuberant party on the yacht should have felt far away, but I wasn’t sure we would ever escape it.
We ambled down the uneven cobblestones, took a left, then a right. I don’t think any of us knew where we were going. We walked up some stairs, eventually ending up in front of the seventeenth-century church overlooking the city. (In a different life, I’d read up on the city to plan for my trip.) In front of a white stone wall, there were a few benches, and we all sat on one, Marnie in the middle.
“Not to pressure you or anything,” Marnie said to me, “But we don’t have all day. It kind of sounded serious when you asked what we should do if one of us had a motive.”
“Right.”
I felt like I was taking a leap off a cliff, unsure if the stream below would be deep enough for me to splash into, or if I was about to break my neck.
“I’m not in the movie,” I started. “I’m not even close to becoming famous. In fact, my acting career is pretty much over. Oh, and I think it was Dorian Fisher’s idea to cut out all the scenes I was in. I think that’s what Odetta Olson tried to tell me before she… You know.”
When Marshall Wild said that Odetta Olson couldn’t be blamed for all the decisions regarding the movie, I’d assumed it was a throwaway comment, a way to protect the artist from the big bad Hollywood machine. But compiling that with her fight with Dorian Fisher, one of the main producers on the movie, it had all started to click. Dorian Fisher would have had a say over the final cut. He was so cold with me in the car on theway to the premiere… It was very possible that Dorian Fisher was the one who’d put an end to my career. Which would give me a very good reason for wanting him dead.
Marnie’s jaw dropped.
“I was trying to cut to the chase,” I added. “Time is of the essence and all that.”
“Okay, but maybe back up a little,” Marnie said.
