Tony glanced at the top page. “I think most of the changes are Alan’s. Detective Chan’s. He usually gets the exposition and that’s what the writers keep changing, so it’s probably changed a couple of your reactions.” He smiled reassuringly as they took the pages. “Nothing big.”

“I mean, I know my lines.”

The newspaper was abruptly folded down. “Are you implying I don’t?”

“I wasn’t talking about you. Jesus, Frank. Get over yourself.” She flipped through the pages and frowned, the makeup on her forehead creasing. “We’re doing all four pages today?”

“Hopefully, we’re doing all four pages by 11:00,” he told her, glancing at his sides. Her name was Laura. He couldn’t know one and not the other, it just didn’t seem fair. “Then three more before lunch and we’re doing seven this afternoon—touch wood.” Reaching out, he pressed a finger against a two by four. “We’re a bit behind.”

Both actors turned to look at the far dressing room.

“Because of . . . her?” Frank asked.

“Nikki Waugh.”

“Right.” He stepped far enough away from the dressing rooms to get a better look. “That’s where it happened, isn’t it?”

Shadow spilled out onto the soundstage, pooling on the concrete, running into the cracks and dips in the floor.

“Yes.”

“She didn’t die of anything catching, did she?”

A small bounce as the back of her head impacted with concrete.

“No. Nothing catching.”

“I heard she was all twisted up.” Laura moved out to stand beside her temporary matrimonial partner. “Heart attack, my ass.”

“I heard it was drugs.”

Tony checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until he had to get them to the set. No way he could take fifteen minutes of lurid speculation. Not when he knew. Hell, not even if he hadn’t known. “Excuse me. I have an errand I have to run; I’ll be back for you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tommy . . .”

“Tony.”

“Of course.” Laura cocked her head toward the sound of Sorge’s voice, his unmistakable hybrid of French and English loud enough to echo against the distant ceiling. “I think we can find our way.”

“It’s all part of the service.” He found a smile from somewhere and managed to keep it in place as he hurried for the exit. Behind him, Mom and Dad—Laura and Frank—settled down for a good gossip, script changes forgotten in their need to visit rumor and innuendo.

Nothing like human nature to make incoming Shad-owlords look good. Keeping an eye out for Lee, he pushed his way back through the costumes, out into the production office, and down to the basement when Amy’s back was turned.

He didn’t want to go down to the basement.

There was no reason for him to go down to the basement.