Anatomy of a Crossword (27 page)

“Don't start losing it on me, Rolly. We need to keep steady here. We've got a lot at stake, and there's no reason we can't get away with it, especially if we keep it strictly to ourselves.”

Debra's Real Deal
Killer Ginger Critters

Heat to the boiling point one half 61-ACROSS

Add one quarter 39-DOWN, three 17-ACROSS butter, and one 17-ACROSS milk.

Sift together two cups of 7-DOWN, one half 17-ACROSS each of baking soda, salt, and nutmeg, 10-DOWN, powdered cloves, and ginger. Then, 50-DOWN with a tiny pinch of 40-ACROSS

Combine both mixtures.

Use additional 7-DOWN, if necessary, to make dough thick enough to roll out.

With your favorite cookie cutter, trim dough into shapes.

Place cookies on buttered cookie sheet and bake at 350° for 5–7 minutes.

Serve warm or cold.

THE REAL DEAL

Across

1. Germany; abbr.

4. Capone and Franken

7. 31-Across St.

10. Policeman

13. Wide shoe size

14. 33-Down relative

15. Boy

16. Ailing

17. RECIPE PART

20. New, prefix

21. Mr. Kazan

22. Owed

23. White stuff

24. Fixed

26.
The___of the Roses

27. IRT stop

28. Grads

29. King of France

31. Bucs' home

34. Nuts!, in cartoon talk

36. Greek specialties

37. Theater chain; abbr.

40. RECIPE PART

42. Take ten

43. Meeting

45. North Sea feeder

46. Toss out

47. Charge

48. Takes too much; abbr.

51. Red or Black

52. UFO crew

54.
Robinson Crusoe
penner

56. Also

58. Health care choice; abbr.

59. Speck

60. Joplin specialty

61. RECIPE PART

65. Ms. Gardner

66. Mr. Buchwald

67. Mr. Turner

68. Comedian Jack ___

69. Old salt

70. Grease

71. Kicker's asset

72. Ms. Landers

Down

1. Discourages

2. Man on deck?

3. Changed trump

4. Honest___

5. ___Angeles

6. Syrup source

7. RECIPE PART

8.
Superman
role

9. Personals

10. RECIPE PART

11. Margarine

12. Remove snow

18. Lyric poem

19. Harem room

23. Guess

25. Lugosi role

26. Lean

27. Guided

30. Medieval coins

32. Org. for 10-Across

33. Nile nipper

35. King of Spain

36. Leg joint

37. Power serve

38. Ult

39. RECIPE PART

41. Overdraft letters

44. Fair grades

48. “The giants lay Pelion on top___”, Rabelais

49. Fawn over

50. RECIPE PART

52. “Half full, or half___?”

53. Mr. Mix

55. Ice on the Elbe

56. ___fall

57. Etna output

58. Toss

61. Beanie

62. Giant Mel

63. Mr. Tolstoi

64. Lemon add-on

To download a PDF of this puzzle, please visit
openroadmedia.com/nero-blanc-crosswords

CHAPTER 31

“So, Belle, you and Mr. Cute-buns Hubby here, figured out who the murderer was just from analyzing the crossword with that gal's ‘Ginger Critters' recipe in it?” Outfitted in flamingo pink and holding aloft a near-empty glass carafe of coffee, the waitress asking the question all but loomed over a formica table, whose surface was as vibrantly pink-hued as her uniform.

The response to her query was a lively chuckle. “‘Killer Ginger Critters' was what she called them, Martha—”

“Can we please dispense with referring to my bozo ex-partner's tush for just one day, Martha? Can we do that? Please?” The request, grumpy but not implacable, came from the police detective seated at the other side of the banquette table. He was dressed in casual “civilian” attire, but the choice of clothing—chinos, and a zippered jacket bulky enough to conceal a service revolver—had “off-duty cop” written all over them. “… And how's a guy supposed to get a refill on java around here? Does everything in this joint fall apart just because a murderer's been nabbed? Where's Mr. Lawson? I want to file a complaint.”

“Hold your horses there, Big Al, I want to know how Belle figured out who shot the guy.” The starchy pink dress remained in place. There was no move to fetch more coffee.

“First off, it was Debra who constructed the crossword puzzle, Martha—”

“Debra?” The detective jiggled his empty cup but to no avail.

“Lay off the fries and pay attention, will ya, Big Al?” was the waitress' quick retort. “Belle already explained this to you; Debra was the dead guy's lady-love—”

“She created the crossword that contained the recipe, Al, as well as the secret ‘Deb' message in the puzzle's diagonal. I guess she must have believed that only her lover would notice it—”

“I guess she was
dead
wrong about that!” The waitress chortled until her retro blonde beehive hairdo shook.

“You're a bundle of glee today, aren't you, Martha? Now, how's about that java?”

“It's coming. It's coming.” Again the waitress failed to move from the tableside. “Go on, Belle.”

“It was pretty simple, really. When the local police confronted the killer with what Rosco and I had discovered, he confessed to the entire crime … What else could he do? We had him dead to rights.”

“And … CUT!” Dean Ivald patted his cameraman on the back and stepped onto the set. “That was super, kids. Just super … We're going to shoot it again from the top, but I've got a few notes here … Quinton, you were perfect, on the money; hang onto whatever you had working for you there. I liked your strong, silent ‘Rosco' in this scene, so let's keep it; we don't want him too smug … Now, Madeline, you can be larger, more over the top with your ‘Martha.' You and Big Al have a joking/teasing relationship going on, so really rib him … And the same for you, Jes; it's tit-for-tat with Madeline, so don't let her ‘Martha' get the upper hand on your ‘Big Al.' Okay, let's take ten, and we'll pick it up from first position.”

As the four principal actors and the extras who'd been seated at neighboring “Lawson's” banquettes left the set and began to move off toward a soundstage table spread with rolls, bagels, fruit juice, water, and coffee, Dean reached out and took hold of Shay Henley's arm. “Can I talk with you for just one sec, Shay, darling?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly … but I feel I'm missing the famous ‘Shay Henley breezy relaxation' in this scene, especially as this is one of ‘Belle's' wrap-up conversations. The crime's been solved. She's back on home turf gabbing with her longtime buddies. Normalcy has prevailed … But you seem on edge, Shay. Is it because we have the real Belle Graham here? Watching? I can certainly have her step outside while we shoot this scene, although her presence hasn't seemed to bother you before.”

The actress sighed and leaned her head on the director's shoulder. “Thanks, Dean. I'm fine. It's not Belle; it's been a stressful week all around. I'll get it together for the next take; I promise. I'm just dealing with a few personal issues.”

“Anything you'd like to share?”

“No.”

“You're certain?”

“I'm certain.” Shay sighed, then changed the subject. “I was thinking, apropos of this scene we're working on … Since Chick Darlessen named a character after his girlfriend, and the real Debra then killed him, don't you think we should change the woman's name in the script? It makes me uncomfortable talking about a ‘Debra,' who instigated a murder. The lines of truth and fiction keep blurring.”

Ivald shook his head. “No can do, sweetheart. Too much reshooting would be involved at this point. Besides, Debra's name appears in that crossword, remember?”

Shay nodded. “Right … name in the puzzle … It was just a thought.”

Dean kissed her lightly on the forehead and said, “Okay. Let's take a little break, shall we, and we'll pick it up again in a few minutes.”

The director walked over to the coffee urn, filled a Styrofoam cup, and added cream and sugar as the real Rosco approached him from behind and said, “Have you got a minute, Dean?”

Dean turned and smiled. “Sure. What can I do for you, ‘Cute-buns'?”

Rosco laughed. “I've never heard that one before.”

Dean's smile grew. “It was from your wife. She thought you'd get a chuckle if I dropped it into the script. So, what's up?”

“I was wondering if we could swing by your office for a minute and pick up those .38 slugs? I'd like to run them down to the range in Inglewood during the lunch break … see if the folks down there recognize them.”

Dean looked to the studio's concrete floor and shuffled his feet for a second. “Ahhh, yes, well, we have a little problem there.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning … they're gone. Someone's taken them.” Ivald raised his eyes to meet Rosco's. He shrugged. “Don't look so disappointed, old chap. It saves you from ruining your lunch hour by spending it mired in L.A. traffic. In the long run, you get the same blasted results. Clearly, somebody wanted the bullets back, and it certainly wasn't the pistol range in Inglewood.”

Rosco made no attempt to hide the irritation he felt. He gritted his teeth and let out a low growl. “Were the shells hidden, at all? Didn't you lock them up? Keep them safe?”

The director shook his head. “They were in the center drawer of my desk. I never lock the office. There's nothing worth taking in there. Besides, we're all friends here, right?”

“And who could've known where they were?”

“Clearly, whoever put the bullets in the gun saw Don Schruko hand them to me, or me show them to you. I don't think it takes an Einstein to figure out what I did with them after that. My desk would be the first place anyone would look.” Ivald downed what coffee remained in his Styrofoam cup. “I don't enjoy being pushed, Polycrates … Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm scheduled to do another take on this Lawson's coffee shop scene.” He crushed the cup, tossed it into a trash can, and marched over to his cinematographer.

Rosco filled a cup with black coffee and returned to the the darkened Vermont-country-inn set where he'd left Belle and Sara. His face failed to conceal what he felt: annoyance, frustration, and the uneasiness of having too many questions without enough answers.

“Let me guess,” Belle said after he flopped down beside her on the overstuffed couch. “Dean Ivald's lost the bullets?”

Rosco looked at his wife; he was obviously surprised by her willingness to ask the question in front of Sara. “Sara?” he said, “You know?”

“I had to tell her, Rosco,” Belle acknowledged, taking his hand in hers. “I couldn't keep her in the dark any longer. I've just about had it with these endless Hollywood secrets and disingenuous behavior.”

“Those value judgments aside,” Sara said as she moved from a rocking chair and joined them on the couch. “Is your wife correct or incorrect in her assumption that our dear director has misplaced the ordnance in question?”

“Oh, the shells are gone. No doubt about it.”

“Humph,” Sara sniffed. “Isn't that convenient?”

“How did you know Dean had lost them?” Rosco asked Belle.

“It was Sara who guessed,” Belle admitted. “When I told her what had occurred, she said it wouldn't surprise her if the bullets were never seen again.”

“Who knew you were capable of such pessimism, Sara?”

The older woman sat up straight and gave Rosco a theatrical scowl. He responded by chuckling.

“Oh, laugh all you want, young man, but it seems to me that ‘lost' isn't as appropriate a term for our missing bullets as ‘stolen.' Knowing that one has possession of live ammunition that wrongly appeared on a movie set might be a fine inspiration for blackmail.”

But Sara's theory was cut short as Miso Lane dashed into the darkened area. His voice was a high-pitched and terrified rasp. “Did you hear? Did you hear the news? Someone put real bullets in Andy's gun yesterday! If it wasn't for our key grip, Dan Millray would have been killed!”

CHAPTER 32

The meeting for the cast and crew that Lew Groslir and Dean Ivald had called was rife with hostility, fear, and a mounting spirit of rebelliousness. Belle could feel the stormy emotions surging around as though they were a physical presence, like gray and foam-flecked waves crashing onto a beach. The actors, grips, cameramen, make-up artists, props and wardrobe people, lighting designers, script girls, best boys, and still photographers were all crowded into the “White Caps” set, the largest gathering spot on the soundstage. Only Dan Millray, the potential victim of the live-ammunition-for-blanks accident, was missing; a circumstance, Belle decided, that the producer and director must have felt was a blessing indeed. Having released the actor when his scheduled filming was completed, they obviously had no desire to call him back for this messy debate. There were enough irate voices to deal with.