Limelight
By Liam
PART FOUR
Fox Studios
March 24, 2003
“And despite the recent tragedies that have befallen the production,” Fox
Executive Philip Kramer continued, “the studio remains committed to the
completion of ‘Abyss’, and still hopes that the series can have a fall
premier.
“However, the network understands that this is a traumatic time for all those
involved in the filming of the show. So, the network has authorized me give each
of you the option to leave production if you so choose. You will receive full
compensation for your services, and a recommendation for employment signed by
the Fox president and myself. If you choose to accept this offer, please see
myself, or Mister Scott Palmer. Thank you.”
The cast and crew began to murmur to themselves as Kramer stepped off the chair
he used for a podium and left, trailed by several assistants. It seemed that
some stagehands were seriously considering leaving, as were some of the
supporting actors.
Cordelia wanted to jump at the offer, but her sense of duty came over her. Not
only the duty to finish what she started when she took on the role, but the duty
to uncover who killed those three people.
It was discovered that Amanda and Sarah’s deaths weren’t accidents. The
police had concluded that the bolts supporting the lighting pole had been
tampered with. Whether the two girls were intended targets, the police didn’t
know. But they knew, as did the entire production of ‘Abyss’, that it was
definitely foul play.
As Cordelia began to snap out of her thoughts, she saw that several people were
staring at her and whispering. “What?” she asked. Touching her cheeks she
asked, “Is there something on my face?”
Alex Baker came up to her and tugged on her arm, trying to get her to follow
him. Cordelia, still confused, relented under his pull.
“Just ignore them,” Baker said. “They’re morons.”
“What?” Cordelia asked again. “I don’t get it. Why was everybody staring
at me?”
Alex sighed heavily before speaking. “Most of the people on set know that
Fincher and those two girls had been less than kind to you.”
“Oh my God!” Cordelia hissed. “Do they think that I had something to do
with them dying?”
“I don’t think so,” Baker said honestly. “And if any of them do, then
they’re idiots. Most people here, myself included, have IQ’s above our
respective shoe sizes. Which means we’re not as likely to believe stupid shit
like that.”
“Small comfort,” Cordy quipped.
“I know, but the point remains, don’t listen to morons. I listened to a
moron once in high school. My eyebrows didn’t grow back for two months.” Off
Cordelia’s look he added, “Don’t ask.”
Cordelia considered Alex’s words. She knew that she hadn’t done anything
wrong, so there was no reason to pay attention to talk or strange looks.
“I’ll try not to let it bother me.”
“Good. Because I wouldn’t want you to do something stupid like take
Kramer’s offer.” Cordelia eyebrows perked at that. “I noticed the deep
concentration during his little speech,” Baker grinned. “You do realize that
Shannon Doherty is your de facto understudy right? And if she takes your role,
then I’m quitting. I had enough of her while I had that guest stint on
90210.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Cordelia said, a little good humor creeping
into her voice. “Thanks for the pep talk. I appreciated it. I need to go and
get ready for a scene. Wouldn’t want someone to start bitching at me.”
“And we all know what happens to people that bitch at you.” Baker raised his
hands in surrender at Cordelia’s mock death glare. “Just kidding. Go break a
leg.” Baker grinned a goofy grin before turning to head over to hair and
makeup to get ready for a scene later on.
************
It was lunchtime, and once more, Cordelia sat alone. Baker said he would join
her, but apparently the second unit hadn’t finished filming their own scene
yet. Production on the two-hour series premier seemed to be trudging along
slowly for everyone.
“G-good afternoon, M-miss Chase,” Francis greeted. “H-how are you
t-today?”
“Hello Francis. I’m okay, all things considered.”
“W-what do you mean, M-miss Chase?”
“Fincher, Carver, Reese. I feel so sorry for their families.”
Francis looked confused as he watched Cordelia pick at her garden salad. He
didn’t understand that at all. “W-why? N-none of t-them was g-g-good
people.”
Cordelia looked on incredulously at Francis. “That doesn’t matter. Nobody
deserves that kind of fate. Hell, if everyone that was ever a bitch to someone
was killed, the only people left on Earth would be a few Amish. Maybe Richard
Simmons, too. Hell, I was the queen of bitchiness when I was in high school. I
specialized in making life hell for the unfortunate.”
“I d-d-don’t believe that,” Francis said. “Y-you’re a nice
p-person.”
“Not a few years ago, I wasn’t,” Cordelia informed him. “You’d look
bitch up in Webster’s and you’d see my mug.”
Francis shook his head, still having trouble grasping what she was saying. She
wasn’t a nice person? That couldn’t be true. She was very nice to him. Not
many people at all were nice to him. And those three not deserving what happened
to them? He’d thought they did when he killed them.
Cordelia glanced at her watch. “I need to go Francis. The director wants me
for a scene here in a few minutes. Have a nice day.”
Francis watched as Cordelia tossed her salad in the trash and jogged back to the
soundstage. This was all very strange, he thought.
************
The man knew had to massage a foot, that was for damn sure. Cordelia was
stretched out on one of the couches in the lobby, feet in the lap of her
vampire.
“Is that a moan of contentment I detected emanating from my little Seer?”
Angel grinned.
“Yup,” Cordelia sighed happily.
“Man, if I get this response from massaging your feet, what would I get if I
massaged your, oh what did Groo call it? Schlotti?”
“Don’t press your luck, Buster,” Cordelia warned. “Remember, you taught
me all those cool self-defense moves.”
“I didn’t teach you everything,” Angel suggested. “There’s a few more
lessons the old schoolmaster has in his repertoire.”
“You offer detention?”
“Only if you’re a good girl.”
Cordelia smiled sexily. “Kick ass.”
Angel shook his head in amusement at his little vision girl. But as jovial as
the conversation started, there was the ever-present thought of business.
Particularly, the business of who killed the three crewmembers of the show.
“Have you found anything new?” Cordelia asked softly.
Angel continued to massage Cordelia’s feet, the hope that they could have a
few more minutes of happiness before addressing business faded to nothing.
“Fred did some hacking and found a list containing all the names of carpenters
and electricians working on the show. She spent most of the afternoon cross
referencing names with police departments to find if any had criminal
records.”
“She find anything?”
“Not yet,” Angel said. “She took a break long enough to get some dinner
with Gunn, but she said she’d be back to do some more searching.”
“Good.” Cordelia considered something for a moment. “Angel? What could
make someone kill? How can someone do that?”
“I can’t speak for other people, Cor. I’m not a psychologist. I couldn’t
tell you what makes a human like Berkowitz or Bundy do what they did. I can tell
you what I felt. Desire, longing, hunger, pleasure. Maybe those are some of the
same things they felt. Maybe they’re not. I don’t know if it can even be
defined what makes people do the things they do.”
Cordelia sat up slowly, her brow wrinkled in thought. “Maybe,” she said,
“he kills because of desire. A desire to kill people he sees as rude or
bad.”
“Cor?” Angel asked. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a handyman on set, his name is Francis something. He’s an older
guy, I talk to him at lunch sometimes. Today, when I mentioned how I felt about
their deaths, he couldn’t understand why I felt sorry for them.”
“You think he…”
“Might be the killer?” she finished. “I think we should check it out.”
***********
“What do you have, Fred?” Cordelia asked.
Fred fingers flew over the keyboard on the laptop as she pulled up information.
“I think we have a hit. Francis McCormack hasvspent over ten years in various
mental hospitals in his lifetime. When he was in his late twenties, he spent an
eighteen-month stretch in an institution for assaulting a man. At trail, he
claimed the reason he did so was because the man insulted a woman in a
supermarket.”
“Then this Francis is a bad man?” Connor asked.
“I don’t think so sweetie,” Cordelia said, brushing back a few strands of
Connor’s hair. “He’s just a guy that takes chivalry a step too far.”
“That still doesn’t excuse what he’s done,” Gunn reminded her.
“No, it doesn’t,” Cordelia agreed.
“Should we go to the police?” Fred asked. “If he’s a murderer,
shouldn’t we give them the heads up?”
“No,” Cordelia said. “I’ll go into work tomorrow and talk to him. If he
is the person that’s doing this, I want to give him the chance to turn himself
in. Maybe he can get the help he needs.”
“Are you sure?” Angel asked.
“I’m sure. He won’t hurt me. Just trust me.”
Angel smiled. “I always do.”
TBC