Perkins just sighed and shook his head, as if he were dealing with a fool who couldn’t see the nose in front of his own face. Which is exactly the way I felt. Yet again, and more and more, every single minute I had to spend with him.
I admit it, that’s when I found myself secretly hoping, in my heart of hearts, that Mr. Harlow Perkins would be unable to solve the mystery, and he would make a very large, pompous, elegant ass out of himself.
Little did I know, he was just one more piece of the puzzle away from having it all figured out.
CHAPTERTEN
The saloon doors swung open, and Sally came running out. “Wait!” she called. And then she stopped.
“Cut!” Franklin said. He turned to the camera operator. “How was it?”
“Okay for me,” the operator said.
The assistant said, “Sorry, Mr. Franklin, but she missed her marks on that one. I couldn’t follow.”
Sally remained rooted where she had last spoken. Franklin walked over. Indeed, it was true: The toes of Sally’s shoes were six inches past the black tape marks. “Sally, honey,” he said, “when you come out of the saloon, you must not come further than these black spots. Otherwise, you won’t be in focus.”
“Oh,” she said. She frowned prettily. “There’s so much to keep track of.”
“Yes, there is, honey,” Franklin said in his smoothest voice. “But you’ll get it. Let’s just try it again.” Franklin was so convincing that even I thought they’d get it the next time.
Sally went back into the saloon. They rolled another take. Franklin said, “Action!”
Sally ran out through the doors and said, “Wait!”
“Cut!” Franklin said. He looked over at the camera crew.
“Focus was okay,” the assistant said.
“Look was wrong,” the operator said.
“I thought so too,” Franklin said. He went over to Sally, still standing on the spot she’d delivered her lines.
“I made it,” she said, pointing down to her feet. Her toes were right at the tape marks.
“Yes, you did,” Franklin said, “but you looked on the wrong side of the camera. You have to look camera right. That’s the left side of the camera from where you are, and—” He saw Sally’s face fall. “Give her a spot, somebody,” he said. He turned back to Sally. “You have to look to the correct side of the camera or else we can’t put the film together.”
“I didn’t know that,” she said.
I glanced over at Paul Fox. He was off to one side, talking animatedly to Clete Williams. Paul Fox didn’t know that either. I distantly heard Fox saying, “It’s a parody of Cain and Abel, and it would be perfect for you...” and Clete was sort of nodding in a vague, bored way.
A spot was fixed for Sally to look at—an X of tape camera right.
“Just do it exactly the same way again,” Franklin said, “but look over there.”
“Over where?” Sally said, squinting.
“At the X mark.”
“Where is it?”
“To the right of the camera.”
“I can’t see it,” she said, still squinting.
“Sally,” Franklin said, “do you wear glasses?”
“Yes, but only for watching television, because I’m a little nearsighted.”
