Stan Brophy moved purposefully away from the small crowd gathered around the entrance to the property room and soon turned a corner out onto the studio lot and out of sight. Some of the gathered investigators giggled, others huffed, some just grinned.

"Lights!" the call came from the set and suddenly the scurry of day to day activity on the set was back in full throttle. Each of those who had witnessed the talent agent's discovery in flagrante delicto suddenly had real jobs to do and the crowd faded quickly away.

Some days passed. The detective got busy tracking down a sneak thief on the lot who was breaking into the actor's  trailers during filming sessions. The doctor was called to revive a number of fainting starlets. The young blonde actress was recalled to her shooting schedule with Tarzan. The hopeful red-headed actress continued to try to catch the eye of influential producers and directors, eager to be noticed in a virtual sea of beautiful young women who seemed to arrive in Los Angeles from all over the world in bus load parcels.  The older actress used Mr. Brophy's business card as collateral to receive a free voice assessment session from a minor English peer who had parleyed a posh voice into a career. He gave her some helpful pointers.

It has been almost two weeks since the incident in the props room when each of the investigators receives a note, written in beautiful cursive, hand delivered by one of the studio pages.

"Please meet me at 6 o'clock tomorrow night on Sound Stage 14. I will make it worth your while. Ed Meyers."

Ed Meyers is one of the owners of the studio, a Hollywood legend, an award winning producer and a well known tough guy from New Jersey. His invitation is more in the way of a summons.

Sound Stage 14 is where they are filming Appointment in Zamora, a desert romance with a famed Latin Lover as the male lead. Ed Meyers is the principal money man in this film, which has been having some issues according to the studio scuttlebutt.

The sun is sinking over the Pacific Ocean as the investigators are vetted and allowed into the cavernous space. A handful of sets are in place: Some kind of castle wall and a massive gate, an oasis, a kasbah interior. A group of carpenters and sound engineers are working on details of the kasbah set, but they are hustled out by large men in dark suits who then take up positions by all of the entrances.

Ed Meyers is short and fat. He twirls a thick cigar, but it is not lit. He stalks up and down in front the investigators as he speaks, punctuating his statements with jabs of the cigar in their direction. His voice is grating, his accent is thick.

"Youse guys. You know who I am, right?" He does not wait to get anyone's agreement, but keeps on. He is clearly angry, but not necessarily at the investigators – yet.

"You know who Stan Brophy is too, right? My secretary," he points his cigar at a slim young man in chinos and a loose linen shirt who smiles and nods,"tells me that youse were seen with said Brophy in this here studio about two weeks back. Hob nobbing in the props department. Yukking it up. Maybe there was some slap and tickle?" He looks deliberately at the pretty girls but with a professional rather than a lecher's eye.

Again he does not wait for acknowledgment or discussion of these facts before he continues.

"I don't give a tinker's cuss about what happened back then, but I do need to find Stan Brophy. And youse? You know him.

"Said Brophy has taken money from me. Ten large." The cigar waggles violently.

"He promised me a star! A babe! Someone worthy of being in my new movie. Jeanne St. Jayne! That's who he promised me. And two days ago, when she was supposed to start filming, she is a no show.

"Eddie," he jabs the cigar at the elegant young secretary again, "he goes over to find her. You know. Stars sleep in. They forget what day it is. But she is not at home.

"No. She is on a sound stage at Universal filming another movie!" His voice is getting more dangerous and indignant now.

"She is my star! I paid Brophy for her to be in my movie, and she is now cheating on me with those Commie fakakas down the street."

He controls his rage with some effort and sticks the cigar in his mouth. Eddie strides forward swiftly with a lighter and soon a plume of blue grey smoke wafts up across the fake castle wall.

"This is not your fault," Meyers says finally. "But youse are going to help me fix it.

"Said Brophy, may he rot in hell for a million years, has vanished off the surface of the Earth. He is nowhere to be found. He is not at home. He is not at his golf club. He is not at his athletics club. He is not at his favorite hotel where he takes young ladies to . . ." he looks at the women in the group and tails off, puffing again on the cigar.

"Eddie tells me youse was seen talking with said Brophy. From this my keen mind deduces that youse knows him." He stabs at the them with the lit cigar.

"I will pay you to find him. I will pay you one hundred dollars today, each, and two hundred dollars again when you bring that welshing scumbag on his knees in front of me to explain what he has done with my money and why my star is not on my stage."

OOC: Going to move the action away from the studio for now, leaving that to our Keeper to continue her story when she is ready. Please feel free to interact with Ed Meyers and/or his sleek secretary, Eddie. Ask questions. It's what Investigators do.

Anna May was not about to argue that she did not actually know the man--a brief encounter, collecting a business card, but not even getting her name into the man's mind was not exactly the sort of thing that would qualify, in her mind, as having more than a passing acquaintance with him--and she feared that Brophy, even if found, would be hard pressed to pick her out of a lineup.

"Is money the only thing on offer for success?" she asked, her mind imagining the script of an "...and introducing Anna May Gibson" on the screen.  Her voice carried the training that had won her elocution prizes beginning in small town Michigan and then finally in Lansing itself before she came west.

Myers' eyes flickered in her direction with interest. He eyed her up, petite, slim, blue eyes, red hair and not afraid to speak up.

"You find me Brophy, sister, and I'll give you a part in my next picture. Not a starring role, mind you, but with lines and a couple of scenes. This I can do. Just for you, because youse asked first.

"The rest of you mooks, the cash is enough. Hear me?

"Eddie, give them the cash already. I'm late for dinner with Tyrone Power. He wants to do another Zorro movie! These old guys never think they're over the hill."

Meyers is moving away but Eddie remains to hand out money and answer questions.

Mark listens and take out his notepad and takes a few notes.  Once Myers has left and it is them and Eddie he approaches the young man.

Sir, Eddie is it?  When was the last time the two of you saw Mr Brophy?  And how did he seem?

Peggy had been quite grateful for the voice work.  Lengthy shooting hours were difficult for her, but voiceovers?  Radio?  Even cartoons?  That was something she could do even on very bad days!  It was something she hadn't given serious thought until now, but seemed like a lovely new avenue to pursue.

But now this...  How very curious that the head of the studio had turned to consultants and actors to do the job of a detective or private investigator.  Were things so dire he did not want to consult outside the studio?  Was he hoping their studio loyalty would trump any need to sell the story to the papers?  For certain being his bad odor could ruin someone's career, but if Mr. Brophy had secured a position for his client at another studio, he must have felt making enemies was worth it.

And Mr. Brophy had possibly endangered them all with his antics, not to mention humiliating the young woman he'd been groping in the back room.  And the money was not a small thing, not for her.

"Eddie, did you know if Mr. Brophy was very hard-up for money?  He is taking quite the dramatic risk in bringing a client to another studio, so I am guessing the money was very, very tempting," Peggy asks.

Eddie peeling hundred dollar bills off of a thick wad and passing them out to the investigators. He doesn't seem to be paying much attention to who gets one. (If anyone wants to try to double dip, send me a secret Hide or Sneak roll – roll 1d100 and tell me what your skill level is. If you have a D20 character, roll 1d20 and tell me what your Stealth or Sleight of Hand skill levels are.)

In response to Hawke's question he informs you:

"Last time I saw Stan Brophy was when he was talking to the group of you two weeks ago. I was just passing through the studio and I noticed him. Time before that was two days previous in Mr. Meyer's office when he promised Ed that Jeanne St Jayne would star in his new picture. They shook hands on the deal. I'm amazed that Brophy is idiot enough to welsh on Mr. Meyers. He'll walk with a limp the rest of his life, very least, when Ed finds him."

To Peggy, he says:

"Nobody ever has enough money, toots. Brophy was always spreading it around, but he may have been in deep to some loan shark or other. I don't know. But stealing from Ed Meyers is a foolish way to solve your financial problems.

"Maybe you should go ask that St. Jayne broad – word is he was pretty sweet on her. And she on him."

Phyllis was listening quietly. She didn't have the first idea how to find Brophy, but filming had stopped on Jane in the Jungle while lawyers argued and she needed the money. Besides, having got Brophy's card, she'd like to find out what had happened to him.

"Jeanne St. Jayne will know something, if only when he vanished. And we can also see if anyone around his office will talk."

Peggy tries to keep a moue of distaste off of her mouth; it has been a long while since she was a "toots", and wasn't a fan of the nickname even then.  "Well, foolishness and young love can conspire to make people do very ill-advised things.  Anything particularly flashy that Mr. Brophy had come up with?  A new car?  Talking about a fancy house or apartment?  An expensive watch or pen?  He's someone who loves to gab and brag, so surely something like that might have been bruited about."

Eddie thinks for a moment.

"Brophy still lives in the same place he has for a while -- it's a bungalow over in Santa Monica. He's still in the same office, too -- in the Homer Laughlin building , downtown on South Broadway. He still drives the same car, as far as I know -- though it's a flash car alright: A burgundy colored Studebaker. Soft top. Very nice.

"Pens? Watches? I don't have a clue, lady. That's what we're hiring you for. Go find out what made Brophy go loco? Find him. Bring him to Mr. Meyers. Chop chop!"

Having passed out the money and what information he has, Eddie is starting to leave. He might answer a last question, but then he's gone.

OOC: You have Stan Brophy's business card. It gives his office address as 317 South Broadway, Suite 300, Los Angeles, California. As local residents you would likely know this building mostly because of the Grande Central Marketplace - an indoors farmers market in downtown LA selling a wide range of expensive consumables.

You do not yet know his home address.

You also know he was rumored to be in a tempestuous love affair with the starlet Jeanne St. Jayne -- he even mentioned her name when you first met him in the props room -- he thought the detective had been sent by her to catch him out.

It's easiest if you stay together to investigate, but you are welcome to split up as well.

In reply to Dr Duncan Mcwatt (msg # 1):

Everly hoped that she might get a starring role herself.

Anna May slipped the money into her purse, sliding the business card from before out, looking at the address again.  She tucked that away, thinking that perhaps a telephone directory would help with the home address, but she looked around to the others to see if they had any strong ideas about how to pick up these slender threads.

"I'd like to take a look at his office," Phyllis said once Eddie was gone.

"If he's got a secretary, she might know something. If not, it'll be easier to get in and have a look around. Someone should talk to Jeanne St. Jayne too. I don't think she'd talk to me, since we're sort-of rivals."

Phyllis didn't like to describe herself as a starlet, but reluctantly accepted that others attached that label to her.

"Off to the office, then?" asked McWatt. "I've a car in the lot. Who's going?"

Mark slipped the money into his shirt pocket.  A hundred dollars was nothing to sneeze at. It was double what he normally charged for a days investigating, if he thought the client could afford it.  For the poorer folks he would drop as low as $10 a day.

He listened carefully as his companions asked their questions, making notes as they went.  When the doctor suggested going to Brophy's office Mark nodded affirmative. Then he spoke.

I also have a car in the lot.I believe our number dictates two vehicles. Shall we?

"Yes," agreed Anna May.  "It seems a likely spot to start."  As much as she appreciated the $100 she had tucked into her purse, she was far more interested in the possibilities that were much greater that she could get from a role with a little substance to it.

"Did anyone actually use the business card yet?"

Peggy put the money away carefully, as it was a fair windfall, more than she'd seen at once in a while.

"That is true. I believe I'd like to go see Ms. St. Jayne. She might talk to another woman more than a man. "

''I'll come too.'' Everly nodded.