Hand on his weapon, Gordon headed to the RV at a dead run. A pale Mai stood on the top step, gripping the metal rail. She stumbled downward, and he caught her before she face-planted on the asphalt.
“What?” he asked.
She turned and pointed to the open door. “She’s … I think … She’s … Dead.”
By now, five of his officers, three production security guards, and a throng of onlookers were streaming through the walkway like salmon heading upstream to spawn. He helped a trembling Mai away from the scene, into the arms of Ed Solomon, one of his top officers.
“Keep everyone away,” Gordon commanded. The security guards hesitated, moving in, but slowly.
Solomon settled Mai on a wooden bench at the edge of the lot. Titch appeared and took immediate control, herding the crowd to the street. People dispersed, albeit reluctantly, with many over-the-shoulder glances. However, Titch’s bulging biceps, close-shaved head, and steely-eyed expression carried a don't mess with me attitude that few citizens challenged.
Trailer and RV doors flew open. Heads poked out. Gordon ordered everyone to stay where they were.
Gordon didn’t know how much the movie security guards knew about police procedure, so he told his officers to have everyone stick around, to start collecting names and contact information.
He caught a glimpse of Vicky McDermott, another of his top officers. “Stay with Mai,” he told her. She strode to the bench and sat beside Mai, who had lowered her head into her hands.
“Solomon, with me,” Gordon said.
His officer insisted on going first, darting inside the open door, then moving to the right. Gordon followed, going left. As he slipped a pair of gloves on, he studied the room.
Racks of clothes covered one wall. Two open doors at the far end revealed changing rooms. Across from the clothes racks, there was an ironing board and a sewing machine on a table beside it. On the other end was a low, round platform in front of a three-way mirror. An easy chair and an end table holding a lamp were tucked into a corner. What appeared to be a sewing basket sat below the table.
And in the middle of everything lay the body of Marianna Spellman.
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