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Julia and Mason stood in the doorway of the garage and gazed.

“Pick your poison,” said Julia. “You’ve already driven the Shelby and the Rolls. What else appeals?”

Mason swallowed and pointed.

“Really?” asked Julia, a little disappointed. “Fair enough.”

So it was that the two of them rolled out of the driveway in a classic Volvo 960 wagon with Mason giggling like a schoolgirl.

“We had this car when I was a kid,” she said as they headed down the hill. “My dad let me sit on his lap and steer. You know, Paul Newman drove one of these with a Mustang V8 swapped in and really burned rubber.”

“You don’t say,” said Julia, gazing out of the window. “I thought you weren’t interested in movies or movie stars.”

“I’m not. That’s a story about a Volvo, not a movie star.” She took one of the tighter curves at an ill-advised speed. “The cars are a definite plus of this job, not going to lie.”

Julia yawned. “I don’t really drive, but I’m glad they amuse you.” She looked over at the young woman grinning behind the wheel. “It’s been a strange first week, right? Your boss gets arrested, inherits a studio…”

“…is on day seven of early sobriety.” Mason shot her a look. “How do you feel?”

Julia shrugged. “Confused. Anxious. Annoyed.” She paused. “Which is how I feel most of the time, early sobriety or not.”

Mason nodded. “Sounds about right. My first year of sobriety was a shit show. I kept losing my temper at everything and nothing, cried every time I opened my mouth in a meeting, refused to get a sponsor until it was almost too late…”

“Too late because you nearly picked up?”

“Yeah. But I got one. She’s great.”

Julia nodded, but said nothing. Then, “What do your parents think about all this?”

“My sobriety, or me working for you?”

“Either.”

Mason shrugged. “Not sure. I spoke to my mother the other day, and all she talked about was me going back to law school. I told her I was working for you, but she didn’t express an opinion. Believe me, if she had one, she’d have expressed it.”

“You don’t want to go back to law school?”

Mason was silent for a moment, navigating traffic. Then she sighed and said, “I’m not the girl I was when I dropped out. That girl was very angry, very focused on having a good time and very, very out of it. Now that I’m sober I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up. Not entirely sure I even want to grow up. But this is good, working for you. You’re kind of mean, but it’s been interesting as hell so far.”

Julia laughed. “I’m not mean. I’m just blunt.”

“You can frame it that way if you like.” Mason pulled into a parking space. “Look at that, Doris Day parking.”

Julia raised an eyebrow.

“You know, how in old movies the people would just swoop into parking spaces right in front of where they needed to go. There was no long circling of the block, cursing the gods of parking.” Mason looked at Julia. “I watched a lot of movies when I was a kid. I just grew out of it.”

“You grew out of a lot of things, it seems. It’ll be interesting to see what you grow into.” Julia paused before getting out of the car. “I don’t think you should go back to law school, for what it’s worth. We have enough lawyers already. I want you to get your private investigator’s license, much more useful to me.”

Mason stared at her. “And that’s the only criteria?”

“No, but it’s a big one. For some reason I like you. You’re fearless, if a little impulsive. Being a PI would keep your brain in gear while also enabling you to perform useful tasks for me.” She reached for the door handle. “I’ll pay for it. It’ll be a taxable business expense.” She got out and leaned down to look at Mason, who was still staring. “Think about it.”

And with that, she turned and walked away.

After the meeting, Julia suggested they go over to Repercussion and talk to Cody. Or Christine, whichever one presented themselves.

“Let’s just see how the dust is settling,” Julia said.

Cody Malone, the handsome young man who’d just inherited a third of a Hollywood studio, opened the door to his office and grinned at Julia and Mason as though they’d known each other for years rather than never having met before. This was something Mason had previously encountered with people in the movie business. A sort of instant rapport that reminded her that “glamour” originally referred to the magic that fairies used to blind humans to the truth. She assumed Julia was immune, or at least able to give as good as she got.

Cody flattered Julia extensively while preparing highly complicated coffee, revealing that he knew every movie she’d ever made, every case she’d worked on in the last few years and every award (movie and/or humanitarian) that she’d won for all of it. It turned out Julia wasn’t completely immune, because Mason got to hear a completely novel sound: Julia giggling. Admittedly, Julia Mann giggling was not your girlish trill of laughter, but the kind of giggle an extremely sexy courtesan might issue after the king said something hilarious. Low-pitched, husky, that kind of giggle. Mason rolled her eyes and moved a stack of papers so she could perch on the corner of a desk.

Having caffeinated everyone, Cody was ready to be helpful. “So, Ms. Mann…”

“You can call me Julia.”

“So…Julia…Christine and I were intending to contact you tomorrow to ask you how you would like to be brought up to speed…Right now we have four movies in preproduction, two in production and three more in postproduction. We also have about fifty more possibles, conversations we’re having with other studios, projects we’re trying to option, etc.” He stopped, because Julia had raised her hand in the universal symbol for “stop.”

“Slow your roll there. I have zero intention of being brought up to speed. You’re charming, so you’re welcome to tell me what you’re up to, but I am in no way going to get involved in running the studio. My third will become part of your half as soon as my lawyer can work out how to make it happen.”

“Really?” Cody sounded surprised, which in turn surprised Mason, who thought it had been pretty obvious at the will reading that Julia was not interested in the studio. “It’s always been my dream to help run Repercussion; I just didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Tony had asked me to make him an appointment with his lawyer the day before he died, but it didn’t seem super urgent so I hadn’t done it yet. I had no idea he was planning to leave me part of the studio.”

He sighed and gestured around at what looked like normal office chaos to Mason. “We’re a little bit of a mess right now. After Tony died, Christine just assumed she was taking over, and she’s totally different than he is, stylistically. He kept everything in his head or on paper, he filed by piles, he hoarded everything, didn’t trust email or the Internet. She’s all digital, all organized, planned and executed with ruthless precision. She’s having me go through everything, and I’m at the ‘worse than when I started’ stage of the process.” He grinned. “Tony had been sorting his papers for the museum, and those are all the red file boxes you can see. Scripts, production notes, correspondence…he kept it all, and Patty Menninger at the Academy Museum is ready to take it. Christine says ship it as fast as possible, so that’s what I’m doing.”

Mason looked around at the papers. Bold, distinctive writing covered a lot of them. Even Eckenridge’s handwriting had charisma.

“How did you and Tony meet?” asked Julia. “He used to have a habit of collecting an eclectic cast of assistants. What’s your story?”

Cody grinned wider. “I delivered him a sandwich.”

Julia laughed. “That tracks. Tell me the story.” She settled herself on the small leather sofa she’d chosen, and crossed her long legs. Mason inched a little farther back on the desk, knocking over a pot of pencils.

Once those had been regathered, Cody began his story.

“So, like everyone else in Los Angeles, I always wanted to be in the movie business.”

“I don’t,” said Mason, but then waved him on. She really needed to work on not interrupting people.

“But also like everyone else, I was doing regular jobs while I waited for my big break. I was working at Canter’s Deli, waiting tables and doing random stuff, when an order came in from Repercussion. I bribed the delivery guy to let me take it instead, and when I walked into the office I walked into an argument.” He grinned at the memory.

“Christine and Tony were bickering over whether Billy Wilder or Steven Spielberg was a better director for emotion. Christine was arguing that Spielberg tugged the heartstrings harder and deeper than any other, citing E.T ., Schindler’s List , etc. Tony came back with Irma La Douce and even Some Like It Hot , which he said contained Marilyn Monroe’s greatest performance. I walked in carrying their lunch, and Tony immediately turned to me and asked for my vote. Classic Tony, he always assumed everyone else cared as much about movies as he did. Lucky for me, I was apparently ready, because I said David Lean.”

Julia nodded. “ Doctor Zhivago , Brief Encounter …sure.”

“I even suggested Nora Ephron, as the radio call-in scene in Sleepless in Seattle makes me cry every time. The conversation kept going, Tony invited me to split his sandwich, and the rest, as people still actually say, was history.” Cody’s face was glowing. It was clear this had been a very special day for him. Mason couldn’t think of anything she’d experienced professionally that made her even a fraction as happy as that, and for a moment she was jealous.

Cody continued. “I never went to college. There was no money for it, you know? But Tony didn’t care. He just gave me as much work as I could handle and taught me as we went along.”

Julia shrugged. “That is indeed classic Tony. You know he started out in the motor pool himself, driving executives and actors. People used to joke there were many self-made men in Hollywood, but only one self-driven.” She paused. “I wasn’t a Tony fan, as you know. No offense, but your boss was an asshole. He made promises all over the place, and rarely kept them.”

Cody turned up his hands. “He was only ever lovely to me, but I appreciate you had a different experience.”

“I still didn’t kill him,” said Julia, calmly. “We’re planning to find out who did. We’d appreciate your help.”

“I want to find out more than you do, probably. He was my friend as well as my boss. He didn’t have to leave me anything at all, but he left me my dream, literally.” He turned to Mason, suddenly. “What’s your dream, Ms….?”

“You can call me Mason. I don’t have a dream, I have a plan, but thanks for asking. My plan is to keep my brand-new boss out of jail.” She made a face. “Beyond that it’s all misty…”

He deepened his smile. “Fair enough.”

“So, you didn’t expect him to leave you part of the studio?” Julia asked, keeping things on track.

“Not exactly, no. He always said he would take care of me, but I wasn’t really clear on what that meant. He was sick. You know that, right? I don’t know how sick…he didn’t like to talk about it. Early on he laughed and told me it was butt cancer, from people blowing smoke up his ass all the time. He wasn’t scared of anything, that man, not even death.” He looked at Mason. “I should have been with him that night, instead of babysitting Jade Solomon at the hospital. What a waste of time.” He picked up a pen and tossed it on the desk, where it spun for a moment. “Seriously, all she did was complain about not having access to social media. Meanwhile, Christine was in the same accident she was, not that Jade seemed to notice that.” He made a rueful face. “She’s all up in my beak now, of course.” He reached for the pen and put it back in a pot on the desk. Tidy. “Wants to nail down her part in The Codex remake.”

Julia was watching his face. “So that’s definitely happening? With Helen directing?”

It was subtle, but a change flickered across his features. Mason couldn’t quite read it. “Unlikely. Helen’s been carrying a script around for nearly a decade, trying to make it happen. Tony’s will was explicit: She keeps the rights, so she has veto over who directs. I wondered if the rights issue was what Tony wanted to discuss with the lawyer, but that meeting could have been about anything. Helen can put her foot down and insist on doing it herself, but without the backing of the studio, she doesn’t have the money to get it done. It’s a delicate dance, and Helen is good at dancing…” He tailed off, took the pen back out of the pot and started doodling.

“But?” Mason wondered what he wasn’t saying.

His mouth twisted. “But the script needs a total overhaul, and I think maybe someone else for filmmaker…” A small movement of his hands. “Someone younger, maybe, with a different sensibility. More current. Helen had that one flop. She’s…” A bigger gesture; Mason was starting to realize the stuff he wasn’t saying, he was saying with his hands.

Mason nodded. “I see. That’s your call?”

“No, or at least not just mine.” He looked mildly uncomfortable. “I mean, Christine has effectively been running the studio since Tony died, and although I’m theoretically a part owner”—he looked over at Julia—“and so are you, I’m not really ready to run anything. I’ve got a lot to learn and I’m in no hurry to flex my muscle.”

Mason asked, “Is Christine going to fire Helen?”

He shook his head. “No, she isn’t actually hired. Christine was already working with her before Tony died, trying to navigate what has now become an even more difficult situation. But Christine just got handed a mini-major to run and she’s at DEFCON 1 around the clock right now.”

“Mini-major? I thought Repercussion was a big studio?” Mason looked around at the other movie posters, all of them huge hits.

Cody raised his eyebrows. “Well, it’s not a major, obviously, and it’s not small enough to be a true independent, and it distributes its own films, ergo, mini-major.” He looked at her. “It’s more complicated than that, but I doubt you’d find it interesting.”

“So, Christine is essentially flying solo?” Julia asked.

He nodded. “Yes, but it’s fine. She’s incredibly competent. She’ll sort out The Codex . I’ll miss Tony, though. He was one of the few truly nice guys in town, even if he was a little OCD. If he was here he’d tell me to use the opportunity to learn more about how a business survives a challenge. He was like that, always saw the angles. Loved to have fun with even the shittiest situations.” He leaned back in his chair. “Mind you, I’ll be glad to off-load all his crap. He was a pack rat, but the most anal, organized pack rat ever. He kept everything from all the movies, all in storage. Some on the lot, some at his place. Every piece of paperwork, of course, but also every prop, every costume, everything. There are dozens of boxes here. I can’t ship them out fast enough.” He sighed. “Not sure how it fell out of the will, but he really did intend everything to go to the museum. Christine handed that mess to me. It was like the third thing out of her mouth when we got back to the office after the will reading.”

Mason said, “What were the first two?”

He laughed. “Fuck and fuck. She wasn’t expecting to share ownership of the studio. She was surprised, but she pivoted fast; she always does. And putting me in charge of clearing and organizing all the documents Tony left everywhere gives me something to do while she works out a plan of action.”

Julia had a question. “And on his last day Tony had a board meeting? Any idea what got discussed there?”

“The minutes will be distributed soon, I imagine. I can look. I was still assisting then. I was running around looking for fish supplies for Christine that morning. We’re setting up a film about a free diver who discovers the entrance to another dimension. Christine watched some background footage and now she wants a lot of fish in the office, to make it more, you know, marine. Reefy.” He paused. “Sometimes she’s a little weird, I’ll admit that, but who isn’t? Tony spent that afternoon on the phone FaceTiming old friends. I think he was starting to tie up loose ends. The oncologists had given him a matter of months, and he had a lot going on he wanted to square away. I’ve got his call list, if you want it.”

“We do,” said Julia.

Cody went to his laptop and pulled something up, sending it to the printer. Handing the paper to Mason, he said, “And then in the late afternoon there was the accident, so I was dealing with that and didn’t lay eyes on Tony after four.” He rolled his eyes. “I think I set a new land speed record getting from here to Cedars. For once the traffic gods were kind and I was there while they were still in triage.”

Mason looked at the list. Most names she didn’t recognize, but Jack Simon was there, as were Maggie Galliano and Patty Menninger. She folded the paper and put it in her pocket.

Julia said, “Where was Tony?”

“Still FaceTiming someone when I left, but after that, no idea. They made us turn off our phones in the hospital. It was a total mindfuck. I had no idea where either of my bosses was for like six hours. Thank God one of them was also somewhere in the hospital or I would have lost my mind. Jade and I ended up playing cards to take our minds off our lack of Internet connection—she hadn’t been off social media that long since she was twelve, and I hadn’t been out of sight of my bosses for more than an hour or two in half a decade. I felt…adrift.” He frowned. “And of course the next thing I knew the police were calling me and Tony was dead and I never got to say goodbye.”

And then he did the most surprising thing of all, and started crying.