Showstopper

Начало книги

The old lady lifted a black velvet bag from her sewing box, loosened the cord and took out a silver Smith and Wesson revolver. With a smile any other old lady would bestow on a new grandchild, she murmured, “Little beauty.” Then, slick as a gunslinger in the Old West, she twirled the weapon twice around her trigger finger, turned at surprising speed, steadied her grip with her free hand and took aim at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Three explosive bursts came not from the gun, but the corner of her mouth. She held the pose for five more seconds.

“And cut. Well done, Daisy.”

“Is that it?” the old lady enquired.

“That’s it, darling — and a very good ‘it,’ as always.”

“Am I free to go?”

“For you, Daisy, it’s a wrap.”

Daisy Summerfield glanced up at the control room and smiled her thanks. Her contribution to another season of the TV crime series Swift was over. She handed the gun to one of the young people on the crew, who returned it to the bag and stowed it away. They’d done her a huge favour, fitting in her extra scene when the call sheet said she’d be filming again in the morning. The end of each day was supposed to be for re-shooting small mistakes, known as pick-ups. Her scene was a solo one and she had made sure she needed only one take.

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