Peril in High Heels by Gemma Halliday, Kelly Rey

Peril in High Heels

Peril in High Heels by Gemma Halliday, Kelly Rey (High Heels Mysteries #11)
English | 2020 | Cozy Mystery | ePUB| 2.9 MB

#1 Amazon, New York Times & USA Today Bestselling series!
Take one fashion designer, one epic fantasy film being shot in the middle of Nowheresville, and a very real dead body, and you have a hilariously action-packed mystery!

Fashion designer Maddie Springer is a huge fan of the Lord of the Throne books by J.R. Ravensberg. So when her best friend, Dana, gets cast as the lead actress in the upcoming movie version, she’s giddy with fandom! Even more so when she’s invited for a girls’ weekend on the set—currently being filmed in the wilds of Moose Haven, Saskatchewan. Between battling Bobbits, Elven Princesses, and Dragon Queens, Maddie is in heaven. But what starts out as a fangirl’s dream quickly turns into something out of a horror movie, when the demanding director of the film shows up dead…stabbed with a prop sword!

It’s no secret Dana had her differences with the difficult director, and the local police have her squarely in their sights as suspect number one. Worse yet, no one is allowed to leave the small Moose-obsessed town, and Maddie’s meddling mom, hot husband, and flamboyant friend Marco are all threatening to descend! With the locals growing hostile and the police zeroing in on her BFF, it’s up to Maddie to figure out who had the director taking his final bow. Problem is, everyone has a motive—from the director’s frigid wife, to the young starlet with a secret, the mysterious actor playing the Evil Prince, the producer with an eye on the bottom line, and even the eccentric author, Ravensberg himself. If Maddie doesn’t watch her step, this may be one movie without a happy Hollywood ending…

Alia paled. ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Frost. I don’t—’

He flapped a script at her. ‘What’s the matter with you, Alia?’ he barked. ‘You are supposed to be Modura, the Dragon Queen. Not Idiota the Feeble!’

The actress blinked back tears.

But Frost wasn’t finished. ‘An actress knows her lines! I hired an actress, didn’t I?’

She flinched. ‘I know my lines. I mean, I knew my lines last night at the hotel.’

‘Well, then, maybe we should’ve filmed the scene last night at the hotel,’ he snapped.

Someone coughed lightly. Much of the crew busied themselves with making minute adjustments to equipment, carefully looking anywhere else. Others fidgeted uncomfortably as they waited in silence for the tirade to end.

‘I don’t know what happened there,’ Alia said. ‘It won’t happen again.’

‘Of course it won’t!’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t think that what happened in LA will keep me from firing you here if you don’t deliver!’

I wasn’t sure what had happened in LA, but it was clear by the way Alia’s eyes darkened that the two had a history beyond this embarrassing moment. ‘I’ll do better,’ she muttered.

‘Learn. Your. Lines.’ Frost’s gaze swiveled to Dana. ‘And you. I could get more emotion out of that rock. This is a pivotal scene for Pixnetta. Try acting like something other than a department store mannequin, will you?’

Someone on the set gasped. Maybe it was me.

Dana maintained a neutral expression when she nodded her acknowledgment, but her shoulders were rigid, and her hand clenched around her chalice until her knuckles looked white. Clearly it took every ounce of self-control not to hurl it at Frost’s head.

He jabbed his finger at a dark haired woman who’d been introduced to me earlier as his 1st AD, Assistant Director, Tarrin Walsh. ‘Didn’t I ask you to get that fill light fixed? Is it too much to ask to have lighting that works?’

Tarrin had a face full of freckles, was a couple inches taller than Frost, a couple decades younger, and I’d seen her pop at least a handful of antacids since I’d arrived. She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes as she clapped her hands briskly. ‘Can we get the gaffer out here, please?’

‘Does anyone on this set know how to do their job?’ Frost ranted.

‘I’m doing my job,’ Tarrin assured him quietly. Which Frost ignored.

A brawny sixtyish man with a full dark beard and a shaved head appeared. ‘Someone needs lighting?’

Frost looked over at him. ‘Hey, Grizzly Adams, I need that light fixed.’

‘His name is Paul,’ Tarrin told him.

‘I don’t care if his name is Thomas Edison,’ Frost said. ‘Can he fix the fill light or not?’

‘I can fix the light,’ Paul said.

Tarrin showed him the light in question and managed to position herself as a shield between him and Frost while he did the job, apparently assuming Frost wouldn’t berate someone he couldn’t see. Of course, Paul was about seventy pounds heavier and nine inches wider than her, so Frost was able to glare at parts of him while he worked.

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