SHELDON
Corrigan was disguised to look like an Asian guy.
When Denton’s makeup artist heard what we had planned, she was all-in. She grinned at me. “I saw your press conference. Rock on, girlfriend. I say screw whoever killed your friend.”
“Thanks.”
Corrigan snapped his fingers in the air, pointing to himself. “Right here. I’m the double agent being sent out. I need as much help as possible.” He met my gaze in the mirror and winked. “Dim down my good looks. I dare you to try.”
The girl laughed, her eyebrow lifted. She drawled, studying his face, “I don’t know about that, but I can make you a different ethnicity. That should work.”
“Make it happen.”
And she did. When Corrigan left, all his golden brown curls were stuffed under a headpiece. His hair was black and combed to the side. H
