Tracking Shot, Colin Campbell [moboreader TXT] 📗

McNulty wanted to step in but this had to come from Larry. The producer kept his cool and leaned forward. “Certain items of equipment are the property of Titanic Productions.” He put added steel into his voice. “And I am the owner of Titanic Productions.”

Harris didn’t retreat. “And this is still a murder inquiry. So you get nothing.”

Larry impressed McNulty by using lateral thinking. “Can you at least tell me if the equipment was found with the body?”

Harris ran his finger down the list for effect but spoke from memory. “No sign of the missing Arriflex.” He looked up from the folder. “If that’s what you’re after.”

Larry kept his tone calm and even. “What about his cell?”

Harris sat up straight. “Ah, so that’s what you’re looking for. Now what are we going to find on his phone that you’re so interested in?”

Larry repaid Harris’s sarcasm with a healthy dose of his own. “His mother’s number, if you want a relative.” He tapped a finger on the desk. “Otherwise that’s privileged information. Belonging to Titanic Productions. And by extension, me.”

Harris closed the folder. He looked at the producer then turned to McNulty. “Well, privilege this. He didn’t have his phone on him when he died. Unless you’re not the only person interested, and that’s why he was killed.”

McNulty wasn’t intimidated. “You know why he was killed. He filmed the gunman and tried to sell the footage. Not the smartest move he ever made.”

Harris looked at McNulty. “Smart moves being your forte.”

They sat in McNulty’s car but he didn’t start the engine. Larry was quiet as he decompressed after confronting a seasoned detective. McNulty was deep in thought. He hadn’t learned anything he didn’t already suspect; whoever killed Severino had searched him the same as his room and if he was looking for something small enough to fit in the spine of a Bible then he would certainly have taken his phone.

“When did Severino last submit any photos?”

Larry thought about that for a moment. “Day before the shooting.”

McNulty turned in his seat. “Do they delete off his phone after he’s submitted them?”

Larry turned to face McNulty. “We don’t take them off his phone. They’re stored in the cloud. We download them every few days.”

McNulty thought about his recording of Jon Harris last night. He could delete it off his phone, but it was automatically backed up in the cloud. He’d forgotten about that. And the cloud accounts were all through Titanic Productions’s master account.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Whatever photos Severino took on the day of the shooting were sitting up there in the cloud, waiting to be downloaded. “Holy shit on a stick.”

THIRTY-THREE

The production office was in the vacant lot next to the Crescent Motel along with the storage containers and location vehicles. Catering and equipment transport were still outside The Chateau on School Street. The compound was empty apart from a couple of carpenters carving wood and an electrician repairing one of the arc lights. McNulty parked on the street and followed Larry into the port-a-cabin.

“Mind your head.” Larry indicated for McNulty to duck through his office door at the end of the corridor. The offices along the hallways had standard-height doors, but Larry’s had originally served as the mailroom and had a shorter door with a delivery hatch. McNulty was always forgetting and bumping his head. He wasn’t worried about his head today.

Larry sat at his desk and opened the laptop. The screen came to life and prompted him to log in. McNulty closed the door and pulled up a chair. Adrenaline made it hard for him to sit still.

The connection was slow. A circle twirled in the middle of the screen. Larry started fidgeting. McNulty drummed impatient fingers on the desk. The circle kept twirling then it froze. It twirled again. After what seemed like an age the Titanic Productions logo appeared, then a grid of icons filled the screen. He was about to click on one of them when a big grey square opened, prompting Larry to update his edition of “Final Draft.” Two smaller squares appeared inside the main one, offering two choices:

Update Now

Remind Me Later

Larry clicked on Remind Me Later and the boxes disappeared, then he clicked on his personal icon and a fresh screen appeared with a different selection of icons. He found the one he wanted and clicked on Titanic’s cloud account. The circle began twirling again with a message beneath it.

Connecting

The carpenters hammered away outside. The electrician cursed when he stabbed himself with a piece of wire. Larry’s feet started tapping on the floor. The circle kept twirling. It disappeared and a new box opened.

Connection Failed

There were two more options beneath it.

Try Again

Cancel

Larry clicked on Try Again and the circle returned. It kept twirling. And kept twirling. Larry’s feet were doing Riverdance. McNulty stopped drumming his fingers and slammed the desk. The circle disappeared and opened the master account. McNulty looked at Larry and shrugged. They were in.

There were listings for everyone who had been given an official phone, tablet or laptop. Larry had access to uploads from all of them. He scrolled down the list until he found Randy Severino then clicked again. A thumbnail portrait of the First AC opened in one corner of a window that took up half the screen. A menu down one side listed,

All My Files

Documents

Movies

Music

Pictures

McNulty leaned forward and pointed at the screen. “He recorded movies as well?”

Larry moved the cursor over, Movies. “Sometimes. Behind the scenes. Kind of thing that ends up on the DVD.”

“Every day?”

“At his discretion. In between his main job, which was the Arriflex.”

“Let’s see.”

Larry left-clicked and another list appeared in date order. A note beside each date indicated whether the movie had been viewed. McNulty tried to remember the date as his eyes scrolled down the list. There was nothing on the day of the shooting, but there was one item the day after. The day he was killed. McNulty