requested a Bottle Rocket. Judith had never heard of it,
but it appeared to consist of several alcoholic beverages and a slice of kiwi.
“Tell me, please,” Morris begged after Charles
handed him his drink. “Why am I being recalled?”
“Recalled?” Judith’s dark eyes widened. “Is that
what I wrote? Oh, dear. My handwriting is so bad. I
meant you’d been called by the studio to . . . well, I
didn’t quite catch the rest of it, so I thought I’d better
come in person to make sure you got the message.”
Morris slumped in relief. “Oh! Thank God! I
thought I’d been fired!”
“Why would you think such a thing?” Judith asked,
still wide-eyed.
Morris gulped down some of his Bottle Rocket.
“Because of this
quickly, “it’s not exactly a mess, but it does present
some problems. With Bruno dying and all, you see.”
“Yes, that complicates matters,” Judith said in a
sympathetic tone. “What do you think will happen to
the movie now?”
“Who knows?” Morris spread his arms, knocking
over a candle on the bar. “Oops! Sorry, Charles.” The
gracious maitre d’ picked up the candle and turned discreetly away.
“Hasn’t the studio given some instructions?” Judith
asked, taking a small sip of Scotch. It was excellent
Scotch, maybe Glenlivet. She sipped again.
“Paradox is waiting to find out what happened to
Bruno,” Morris replied.
“What do the studio executives think happened?”
Judith asked.
Morris drank more Bottle Rocket. “Whew!” he exclaimed, passing a hand over his high forehead. “That’s
strong!” He leaned closer to Judith. “What did you say?”
She repeated the question. Morris reflected, though
his eyes weren’t quite in focus.
“Paradox is sure Bruno had a tart ahack. I mean”—
he corrected himself—“
“You mean he’d had a history of heart trouble?”
Morris grimaced. “Not exactly.” He hiccuped again
and drew himself up on the bar stool, which luckily
had a large padded back. “Strain. That’s what Bruno
had. He worked under a lot of strain. That’s why he—”
He stopped abruptly. “I shouldn’t tell tales out of
school, should I?”
“You’re not,” Judith assured him. “I’m not in the
business. I don’t count. I’m nobody.”
“Thash shtrue,” Morris agreed. “You’re not.” He
took another gulp from his glass. “Anyway, Bruno
