The 7th Month_ A Detective D. D. Warren Story - Lisa Gardner [17]
Donnie had grumbled, but agreed to see her there.
Then D.D., Joe, and Alex climbed into D.D.’s car, and she drove them over to base camp.
This time of night, with just the dim parking lot lights illuminating the space, D.D. found the endless rows of twin white trailers to be eerie. Like a bad science experiment. Pod after pod after pod. She shivered as she pulled into the rear of the parking lot, then killed the car lights.
Five minutes later, the set van pulled up, and Donnie B. stepped out. He never glanced their way. Just climbed the metal step to his trailer, yanking open the door. One more minute, then D.D. looked over at Alex and nodded.
D.D. and Joe went first. D.D. rapped three times hard on the trailer door.
Don opened it almost immediately, nodding at her, frowning at Joe.
“Just escorting a pretty lady,” Joe said easily. “Didn’t want her to walk over alone, you know.”
“You walked over,” Don exclaimed, the idea of a pregnant woman using her own two feet distracting him.
D.D. smiled at him, then pushed her way in, Joe following quickly behind her. Door closed, then the three of them stood in a space designed for six people max. Given the rounded bulk of D.D.’s stomach, it made for tight quarters.
Don had the contract out on the table. He handed her a pen, tapped the signature line impatiently.
“Director is hoping to resume within the next fifteen minutes,” he said crisply. He stared at Joe. “Shouldn’t you be in makeup? We’ve had enough of a delay tonight. Time is money, you know!”
D.D. made a big show of fiddling with the pen. It was blue ink, did Don have black? Wait, she had the perfect pen in her coat, just let her find it. She started patting down her coat pockets.
Her stomach was still bothering her, she registered vaguely. In all the excitement, she’d forgotten about dinner. Maybe she should check out this whole craft services business. Chinese food at one A.M. Except just the thought of pork chow mein made her feel suddenly nauseous.
She focused on looking for just the right black pen, as Donnie B. grew twitchier and twitchier.
A fresh, loud knock on the trailer door.
Don frowned at Joe and D.D, as if they knew something they weren’t telling. Both made a big deal of shrugging.
Finally, with an exasperated sigh, Donnie marched across the small space to the door and yanked it open.
Alex Wilson stood there.
“Don Bilger? Boston PD.” Alex flashed a badge, D.D.’s credentials, actually, but snapped the black leather billfold shut before Don could react. “Got a couple of questions for you, Mr. Bilger. If I may?”
Don looked over at D.D. Standing beside the table, she shrugged again.
The producer stepped back uneasily and Alex joined them in the tight space, door banging shut behind him.
“Do you two know each other or something?” Don asked, his gaze going between D.D. and Alex.
“Detective,” Alex said formally, nodding in her direction.
“Dr. Wilson,” she replied, her tone equally proper. “Dr. Wilson is one of our experts,” she informed Don. “What’s your specialty again? That’s right. Blood spatter.”
“Blood spatter?” Donnie’s eyes grew wide.
D.D. ignored him, focusing on Alex instead. “Is there something we can do for you, Dr. Wilson?”
“I’m afraid I have some questions for Mr. Bilger.”
D.D. immediately turned toward the movie producer. She’d taken a couple of steps away from the table, moving into the center of the space. Between her, Alex, and Joe, they had Bilger pinned against the far wall, against the built-in sofa. He hit it with the back of his knees, and sank down, seeming to resign himself to the inevitable.
“How tall are you, Mr. Bilger?” Alex asked sternly.
“Um, five ten.”
“Please stand up.”
“Fine, fine, five eight and a half.”
“May I see your hands,