By Ray Bradbury
May 2013 publication - retail epub
Halloween evening, 1954. a tender, film-obsessed scriptwriter has simply been employed at one of many nice studios. An nameless research leads from the large Maximus motion pictures backlot to an eerie graveyard separated from the studio through a unmarried wall. There he makes a terrifying discovery that thrusts him right into a maelstrom of intrigue and mystery--and into the dizzy excitement of the motion picture on the peak of its glittering strength.
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Extra info for A Graveyard for Lunatics: Another Tale of Two Cities (Crumley Mystery Series, Book 2)
But that was all I saw him do, because while I cursed under my breath I was swinging my head around to focus on the gal again. It was hard to focus, too, because there were so many places you wanted to look. If eye exercises improve vision, this gal's approximate thirty-six, twenty-one, and thirty-five would give a blind man twenty-twenty. As the fanfare echoed in the club a voice spoke over a mike, introducing Satan and Satin for the first show of the evening. The woman, Satin, ran lightly forward, arms stretched behind her, as the lights in the club went out.
I went through the curtained archway and down a narrow passageway to a hall lined with closed doors. I saw one door with a silver star on it and knocked. " "Shell Scott. " Satin opened the door. She held a cloth in her hand and was removing the make-up from her face; but she hadn't changed the outfit she wore in her act. It took a few seconds for me to explain who I was and what I was doing here, but then she invited me inside her dressing room, shut the Page 41 Wailing Frail, A Shell Scott Detective Mystery door, and walked over to lean back against the dressing table.
His body seemed to lurch sideways and he fell to the floor with a jarring crash. A woman at the next table screamed. She screamed and kept on screaming. She couldn't have seen that the man was dead, couldn't have known. But something made her scream. Maybe it was the way he fell; or maybe she smelled that burned flesh. But her voice was high and gasping, carrying a choking fright through the sound of the orchestra. The music stopped suddenly. Lights came on in the club, and at the nearby tables men and women jumped to their feet.