The casting director smiled back, and the sour-looking woman made an irritated face, which immediately caused a niggle of alarm inside Chase. The casting director picked up a piece of paper. “So, Chase, I believe you know who I am. This is Jim. He’ll be filming. Mary, who met you at the door, is my assistant, and this is Maggie Stiles, who works with the production team. Normally, I would ask you to tell us about yourself, but since we all know who you are, that won’t be necessary.”

“I’m willing to answer if you want. I feel pretty much like a new person today, and I’m excited to read for you.” Chase gave them a winning smile and then held the paper with her lines up. “Who am I doing the sides with?”

The casting director lifted a finger. “I’ll do the honors. When you’re ready.”

Chase tried to center herself, but her gaze kept straying to Maggie, who no longer looked sour. Instead she radiated dislike. How could she not like Chase without really knowing her? Unless she knew her. Maybe Chase had done something to her? Dissed her? Kissed her boyfriend? Something horrible in the past?

No. Clear your mind, Chase. Find your calm. You are a professional. You have starred in twelve movies. This is not even a leading role. Conrad wants you. This is a formality.

The casting director cleared her throat and arched a brow as if she were growing impatient and wasn’t exactly waiting until Chase was ready.

What was the first line?

Crap.

Chase glanced down at the sides, looking at the arrow she’d drawn. God, she looked so unprofessional. She couldn’t even remember her first damn line.

Chase looked up at the casting director. “I know what I saw, Detective Murdoch.”

“I think you believe what you think you saw, Miss Cavendish. However, the lanterns had been extinguished on your street.” The casting director read with little emotion.

“Are you calling me a liar, sir? I know very well what I saw in the darkness. Inspector Ashwood carried a large bundle to a wagon parked—” Chase shifted her gaze from the casting director and caught Maggie’s expression. Unmitigated anger poured from her eyes.

Chase stopped.

The casting director looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s looking at me as if she wants to kill me,” Chase said, nodding toward Maggie.

The production assistant blinked. “What?”

“I’m sorry, but you’re staring daggers at me. Is something wrong?” Chase asked.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just got a call from the seafood market about the fish I’d ordered for my mother’s sixtieth birthday celebration, and I’m irritated because it was placed . . . you know, not important.” Maggie waved her hands and shook her head. “I didn’t mean to project my irritation toward you.”