Blue Murder

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Gretchen Tucker, an elegant thin-nosed blonde wearing glasses, very short shorts and a thin sleeveless top, turned out the projection-room lights, and the screening began.

This was a rough cut of scenes shot over the weekend, and the transition between shots was sometimes jarring. They were working against a deadline, attempting to shoot and assemble a four-reel feature in fourteen days. There were only two of them in the room, Gretchen and Armand Baruch, the director and producer, a heavily bearded young man wearing a striped Pakistani robe and sandals. He had extremely dark skin and an intentness when he was working that gave him the look of a mullah who had spent too much time alone in the desert.

He was murmuring instructions to himself into a tape recorder as he watched the action, a medium shot of an attractive blond girl approaching a closed office door. She smoothed her eyebrows and tucked in her blouse more securely, accentuating her breasts. She started to knock, changed her mind and walked in.

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