In Chap­ter 66 of “We Solve Mur­ders,” Max High­field sits alone in the Emi­rates First Class Lounge, his frus­tra­tion sim­mer­ing just below the sur­face. Betrayed by his body­guard, Henk, who failed to show up as promised, Max feels iso­lat­ed and vul­ner­a­ble. His irri­ta­tion inten­si­fies as he’s left to serve him­self, fetch­ing his own sal­ad, a task he con­sid­ers beneath him giv­en his sta­tus. The sit­u­a­tion stirs up feel­ings of frus­tra­tion and anger, as Max is used to being tak­en care of, espe­cial­ly when it comes to the sim­plest of tasks. As he stews in his annoy­ance, a ner­vous teenag­er approach­es, con­firm­ing that he is indeed Max High­field. Max, still irri­tat­ed, rais­es his sun­glass­es briefly in acknowl­edg­ment, his response short and dis­mis­sive. The teen, excit­ed and ner­vous, goes on to express his admi­ra­tion for Max’s role in “Titans of War,” prompt­ing Max to com­ment on his under­whelm­ing per­for­mance in the film and how he felt side­lined in that role. He also briefly reflects on how his work in “The Rose of Sara­so­ta” went large­ly unrec­og­nized, fur­ther fuel­ing his dis­sat­is­fac­tion with his career.

Max’s dis­com­fort grows as the con­ver­sa­tion con­tin­ues, not just because of the intru­sion on his soli­tude, but because he begins to sus­pect that this young teen, who clear­ly doesn’t belong in such a lav­ish envi­ron­ment, might have gained access to the lounge in a less-than-legal man­ner. This ques­tion gnaws at him as he watch­es the boy con­tin­ue to gush about Max’s past films. The boy’s per­sis­tent admi­ra­tion, though some­what flat­ter­ing, only adds to Max’s sense of annoy­ance, espe­cial­ly con­sid­er­ing his cur­rent frus­tra­tion with his bodyguard’s absence and the loom­ing pres­sures of his pro­fes­sion­al life. Max is also prepar­ing for a major cer­e­mo­ny at a Dia­mond Con­fer­ence, where he is expect­ed to deliv­er a com­e­dy rou­tine craft­ed by Shaun and Chris­tine. The pres­sure of this loom­ing respon­si­bil­i­ty, paired with the unex­pect­ed encounter with the teenag­er, feels over­whelm­ing. Even­tu­al­ly, the boy asks for a pho­to­graph with Max, and despite his irri­ta­tion, Max reluc­tant­ly agrees, notic­ing the boy’s hands shak­ing with excite­ment. As the teenag­er eager­ly rush­es back to his par­ents, Max returns to his meal, feel­ing both vio­lat­ed and, odd­ly enough, slight­ly appeased by the boy’s admi­ra­tion.

Max’s thoughts then shift to his body­guard, Henk, whom he tries to con­tact to express his frus­tra­tion. How­ev­er, his attempt to make a phone call is thwart­ed by lounge staff who inform him that calls are pro­hib­it­ed in the area. Max, still sim­mer­ing with anger, iden­ti­fies him­self and tries to rea­son with the staff mem­ber, but they remain unmoved, adding to his sense of help­less­ness. The sit­u­a­tion caus­es him to reflect on the dif­fer­ences between Henk and his old friend Jeff Nolan, who would always answer Max’s calls, no mat­ter the time or sit­u­a­tion. This com­par­i­son leads Max to ques­tion his rela­tion­ship with Henk, won­der­ing if his trust in the body­guard is mis­placed. Giv­en the recent threats he’s been receiv­ing, this moment of vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty forces him to reassess his reliance on Henk, espe­cial­ly in light of the dark­er, more sin­is­ter forces he feels are begin­ning to close in around him. The emo­tion­al tur­moil Max expe­ri­ences in this scene is marked by both anger and a creep­ing sense of fear, as he con­tem­plates whether a body­guard is tru­ly nec­es­sary or if these recent threats are sim­ply a sign of deep­er trou­bles lurk­ing beneath the sur­face.

Amidst this emo­tion­al tur­moil, Max’s mind drifts to his film career, specif­i­cal­ly his role in “The Rose of Sara­so­ta.” Max had hoped that the film would pro­vide him with the recog­ni­tion he so des­per­ate­ly craved, espe­cial­ly con­sid­er­ing the com­plex­i­ty of his role as a ter­mi­nal­ly ill sol­dier. He had envi­sioned the film earn­ing him an Oscar nom­i­na­tion, an acco­lade that would have solid­i­fied his place in Hol­ly­wood. Instead, the film’s fail­ure left Max feel­ing not only dis­ap­point­ed but deeply frus­trat­ed. In the world of film, death is often treat­ed as a triv­ial plot point or an after­thought, some­thing Max finds both insult­ing and reduc­tive. As he sits in the lux­u­ry of the lounge, sur­round­ed by high-end com­forts and indul­gence, his thoughts turn dark, and he finds him­self con­fronting his own mor­tal­i­ty. The con­trast between the super­fi­cial lux­u­ry sur­round­ing him and the deep­er, more exis­ten­tial reflec­tions he is hav­ing high­lights the inter­nal con­flict Max is grap­pling with. In the end, this chap­ter offers a pro­found glimpse into Max’s psy­che, illus­trat­ing his inner bat­tle between his exter­nal per­sona as a suc­cess­ful actor and the vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty he feels when faced with the real­i­ty of his own life and career. The themes of iso­la­tion, frus­tra­tion, and the super­fi­cial­i­ty of fame res­onate through­out, leav­ing Max with a haunt­ing real­iza­tion that even in the most lux­u­ri­ous set­tings, the weight of per­son­al and pro­fes­sion­al fail­ure can feel all-con­sum­ing.