Reel Stuff by Don Bruns Page A

didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
    She surprised me. All the time. And here James and I were licensed private investigators and had no permits to carry weapons. I’d definitely have to look into a concealed permit.
    When we finally had the background, Em formatted it until it looked like the sample template on the Internet, and we printed up five copies. I was impressed.
    â€œYou’re bona fide.”
    â€œI was
bona fide
the last time we were together at my place.”
    Now she was the one getting risqué.
    I ignored her lewd comment. “So, now what?”
    â€œWe go to Kathy Bavely tomorrow and give her the head shots and résumé. Let’s see if I can get representation.”
    â€œEm, where is this going?”
    â€œSkip, I’m winging this. You of all people should understand.” She shook her head as if to insinuate I was an idiot for not understanding.“We need to get to know Juliana Londell and find out whether she stands to collect on an insurance policy.”
    â€œWe could have asked.”
    â€œIf she’s involved, she’s not going to notify us. At this point, the way we’ve positioned ourselves with me possibly being Kathy’s client, we’re in Juliana’s space. If I become, even for an instant, an important person in this space, we stand a chance to find information. We’re going to be in the same office, and I feel certain we’re going to meet the woman. I’m just going to go with the flow.”
    â€œIsn’t that a phrase from the sixties? Go with the flow?”
    â€œSkip, I’m a rising star in the present. I’m going to light up the world. You name the number one twenty-something pop star, and I’m going to be light years ahead of them. Got it?”
    She smiled at me, a look that was very sincere.
    â€œWe’re going to find out if Ashley Amber’s sister is responsible for Jason Londell’s murder.”
    I nodded, hoping this was the end result.
    â€œAnd,” she added, “we’re going to find out if I have what it takes to be an American princess.”
    I think she was halfway serious.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
    Our final stop came from a website I’d visited regarding a SAGAFTRA card. As I understood it, after an actor had a speaking role in a union production whether it’s a movie, TV role, or commercial, he has thirty days to get a union card, or he couldn’t get a role in another union production. It was part of the Taft-Hartley Act, and I had no idea what that was.
    Since we’d dummied up a résumé, Em had to show some proof that she was a member of SAG-AFTRA. We weren’t actually interested in a role, because by the time agent Kathy Bavely started pitching Emily to producers, we’d be back in Miami, hopefully with enough information to decide if Juliana Londell had taken an active role in killing her husband.
    The place was a print shop in a very sketchy part of town, and they advertised SAG cards as a novelty gift. “Impress your friends,” the ad said. “Show them you are a certified actor with this look-alike card.”
    â€œHow look-alike is this card?” I asked.
    The young guy with a sparse beard, his pants too low, and a sideways baseball cap smirked.
    â€œYou won’t be able to tell the difference, dude.”
    I’d never seen a SAG card so he was dead-on about that.
    When he was finished, I hoped that Kathy the agent would buy it. Better yet, I hoped she would never ask. With a good résumé, I hoped she’d just assume that we had the card. After all, how did Em get all these juicy roles?
    â€œIf we get outed, we just go a different direction,” Em said.
    I had to admire her determination. She was really getting into the part.
    Half an hour later, the young guy brought out the card. Blue and tan, with a logo on the left that showed a line drawing of a smiling face and a frowning face. I