Murder at the Academy Awards (R): A Red Carpet Murder Mystery by Joan Rivers, Jerrilyn Farmer Read Free Book Online Page A

the old-school flowers and vodka shooters.
    “We’ve got to go,” I said, taking Drew by the hand.
    “Yes,” said Malulu, relieved.
    “Yip,” added Killer.
    “Sorry, but I can’t let you leave until you hand over the videotape,” O’Neil said to Danny.
    “Hey, no need to get all threatening or anything,” Danny said. “See, there isn’t any videotape.”
    “What?” we all said at once.
    “Yeah, well…” Danny tugged on his baseball cap. “My camera doesn’t use tape anymore. When I’m rolling, I’m just sending a live feed back to the truck. The director is in the booth there and decides what shots he wants, and the technical director pushes the buttons. It’s a live show.”
    I knew that Will Beckerman and crew were working in our portable TV control room in a large trailer parked on a side street a block away, where they received the live shots from all the roving cameramen plus the interviews shot by the fixed cameras covering Drew and me. What I didn’t know was that they edited theshow as it went directly to the viewers watching. Who can keep up with the technical details? Apparently, there was no film or videotape in our camera.
    “No tape?” O’Neil said, tapping the large camera mounted on a tripod next to Danny, unconvinced.
    “Not here.” Danny wagged his head side to side.
    “Well, then where?” O’Neil asked, still not losing patience.
    “They can record a tape from the live mix.”
    “They?”
    “The guys in the truck.”
    “You didn’t think you should’ve mentioned that a little earlier?” asked O’Neil, disgusted.
    Alas, O’Neil was learning what all of us already knew: Danny was a nice steady camera operator, but he’d spent a few too many lost years listening to Santana and smoking pot. O’Neil just shook his head and headed away toward the production truck.
    “That’s good luck for us,” I said, smiling again. “Glam will never give up that tape.”
    “That interview with Halsey is gold!” crowed Cindy, who had finally been cleared by security to enter our secured area and had completely missed our tense standoff. “Did I deliver or did I deliver?” she asked, beaming. No one spoke. “Okay, I get it. A little shaky on Joaquin Phoenix, yes, I know, but then I pulled through in the clutch, baby!”
    “Not bad,” I told her. “I doubt dear Sam Rubin will ever return my calls again, but not bad. However, it was Drew who got us that interview.”
    Danny looked mournful. “Max, we have big problems.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t think they ever taped Halsey’s spot. You were going way, way over our time.”
    “I realize that,” I said, exasperated. I was wearing a $140,000 watch, wasn’t I?
    Drew jumped in, looking upset. “Mom couldn’t exactly get a coherent word out of Halsey.”
    Danny looked sick. “See, the thing of it is, Max, we were cut off.”
    “What?”
    “Glam and Will in the truck. They cut the feed when we started to go over time.”
    “Cut the feed?” I screamed. “What the fuck are you talking about? You mean no one saw my interview?” A bit of dead leaf fell off the butt of my gown, fluttering to the carpet.
    Danny said, “I don’t think so. My camera went dead, Max. Will must have pulled the plug.”
    “That idiot!” I shouted. I felt the back of my neck getting as red as the carpet!
    “Come on, Max. You know the rules,” Danny said in a don’t-blame-me voice. “We’re never allowed to spill over into the Oscars. We’re contractually obligated to stop our show so there’s no overlap when the real Oscar telecast begins on the network.”
    “Of course I know that,” I yelled. But that rule just pertained to entertainment, and Halsey’s collapse, right here, right now, had been news . After all these years in the business, I was pretty sure news trumped all. What the whole world apparently wanted was to look hard and close at whatever had happened to that poor young woman, including watching her fabulous collapse