Obsessed (9781617732393)

by Gibson, Jo

  There was a burst of laughter, and Judy nodded. Michael had given this speech so many times, he could probably do it in his sleep. But Michael was a good actor, and he had the ability to make it sound fresh each night.

  “But seriously folks, our burgers are great. Andy Miller, our short order chef, just won several prestigious awards from the California Council of Intestinal Medicine.”

  There was another burst of laughter and Judy was ready with the spot. As he did every night, Andy poked his head out of the kitchen and waved a spatula at the crowd. He was a high school senior who looked like he enjoyed his own cooking. His face was freckled, and his curly red hair was almost hidden under a high chef’s toque that Judy had found in a gourmet shop. Andy hated the white, puffy hat, and he only wore it when Michael did his introduction.

  “Your menu’s on the table, under the glass. Order from Ingrid Sunquist, she’s the stunning Scandinavian blonde in the pink blouse. Or you can flag down our lovely Latin beauty, Nita Cordoza. Nita’s brother, Alberto, will also take your order. He’s the big, dark-haired guy in the pink shirt. And I wouldn’t say anything about the color of Berto’s shirt, folks. He’s a fullback on the Burbank High football team.”

  Ingrid curtsied, Nita waved, and Berto gave one of his tough-guy smiles. Judy held the spot on them for a moment, and then she dimmed it.

  “And now for the good news. Just in case you didn’t know it, we have a bar!”

  The audience burst into applause, but they stopped abruptly when Michael followed it up with his next line. “The bad news is, it’s a non-alcoholic fruit juice bar. But our bartender, Vera Rozhinski, makes a very mean virgin Piña Colada, so belly on up between acts and tell Vera your troubles.”

  Judy swiveled the spotlight to Vera, a classic Slavic beauty with coal black hair and blue eyes so dark, they were almost purple. Vera was short, only a little over five feet, and Mr. Calloway had built a slatted platform behind the bar so that she could reach the glasses.

  “It’s almost time to say ‘on with the show.’ But first, Mr. Calloway has a few words. As some of you may know, one of our best singers, Deana Burroughs, died last night.” Michael’s voice faltered and he cleared his throat. “Mr. Calloway would like you to join us in a moment of quiet reflection.”

  Judy picked up Mr. Calloway with the spot, and followed him to the stage. Then she dimmed, and leaned back, half-listening to the words of praise about Deana. Just last night, Mr. Calloway had been mad enough at Deana to kill her. She’d thrown them all off schedule by being late. But now he was praising her, and telling the audience how much they’d all miss her. It was ironic, and Judy almost smiled until she realized that smiling would be terribly inappropriate. One of her first nannie’s favorite phrases had been, “Don’t think ill of the dead.” But Miss Hopkins had never been able to explain why. Judy had never liked Deana, and she thought it was wrong to claim she’d liked her, now that she was dead.

  Mr. Calloway had prepared a touching speech, using words like sweet, and beautiful, and talented. Judy frowned as she thought about her own experiences with Deana. As far as she was concerned, Deana had been a bitch. Deana had always complained about the way Judy had lit into her, and she’d been positively nasty one night when she had worn a yellow blouse that looked orange under the lights. Judy had tried to explain that it wasn’t her fault. Deana had bought the blouse that afternoon, and she’d been late so there hadn’t been time for a light check. But Deana had blamed her anyway. And what she’d tried to do to Michael had dissolved any positive feelings Judy had begun to harbor for Deana.

  Judy glanced at the stage. Mr. Calloway was still speaking about what a wonderful girl Deana had been. Maybe she’d been wonderful to other people, but she certainly hadn’t been wonderful to Michael. Of course, Michael hadn’t been in a position to know Deana’s plans for him. But Judy had been.

  She knew she’d never forget the day last month, when all the girls at Covers had gone out to lunch. Summer school hadn’t started, so Deana had been with them in the corner booth of the little Mexican restaurant down the block.

  “So what do you think we should do with Michael?” Vera had asked. “He’s been really depressed since he broke up with that college girl he was dating.”

  Nita had shrugged elaborately. “What can we do? I’ve tried to cheer him up, but nothing works.”

  Judy had nodded. She had noticed Michael’s depression, but she didn’t have any idea what to do to cure it. But then Mary Beth Roberts, the tall blonde dancer, had spoken up.

  “I think we should all make a big play for him. If we all treat him like he’s the sexiest thing we’ve ever seen, he’ll perk right up.”

  Mary Beth had leaned forward across the table, and a bus boy had almost dropped his water pitcher. Mary Beth had been wearing a blouse with a scoop neckline, and when she’d leaned forward the tops of her breasts had been clearly visible.

  “You think all of us should come on to Michael?” Vera had looked confused.

  “Why not?” Mary Beth had warmed to her plan. “We can have a contest. And the winner will get the biggest prize at the club. Michael Warden.”

  Carla Fields had frowned. She was the student manager at Covers, a thin, quiet girl with glasses and mousy-brown hair. Carla did all the office work, and no one really knew her very well. They’d only invited her because she’d happened to be standing there when they were making their plans. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  Mary Beth had laughed. “Why not? I’d like to go out with him, and so would every girl at this table. Am I right?”

  “Of course.” Nita had flashed a big smile. “Michael is primo.”

  Mary Beth had grinned, and then she’d started to poll the girls at the table. “How about you, Vera?”

  “Well . . . sure.” Vera had looked slightly uncomfortable.

  “Me, too.” Ingrid had sighed. “I’d love to date Michael.”

  “Becky?”

  Becky Fischer, Covers’ short, dark-haired resident comedian, had shrugged and nodded. Even Linda O’Keefe, the pretty redhead who sang torch songs, had blushed and smiled her agreement. The only girl who hadn’t agreed was Carla. And Judy, of course.

  “Are you in, Carla?” Mary Beth had grinned at Carla, a mean sort of grin that let everyone know she didn’t think Carla could get a date with Michael if she was the last girl left on earth.

  “No.” Carla had folded her napkin and stood up. “I like Michael. He’s a very nice person. And I don’t think it’s fair to treat him like a prize we’re all competing for.”

  Judy’s eyes had widened as Carla had turned and left without another word. She’d been thinking the same thing, but she hadn’t had the nerve to say it.

  “Carla knows she couldn’t get a date with him anyway.” Mary Beth had given a nasty little laugh, and then she’d turned to Judy. “Come on, Judy. You haven’t said anything. Are you in?”

  Judy had taken a deep breath. She’d wanted to leave, right along with Carla, but then Mary Beth might say the same thing about her.

  “Not me.” Judy had laughed, a laugh that said she didn’t care one way or the other. Of course she wanted to go out with Michael. She’d been trying to attract him for the past two years. But she’d never admit it in front of the rest of the girls.

  And then Linda spoke up to save her. “Michael treats Judy like his kid sister. He’d know something was up if she started coming on to him. Maybe she could be the scorekeeper or something.”

  Mary Beth had given Judy a long, hard look, and then she’d nodded. “Okay. If you don’t think you could get him to ask you out, we’ll let you keep score. Deana? How about you?”

  “Count me in.” Deana had grinned at them all, and then she’d turned to Judy. “Mark me down as the winner. I’ve got a late date with Michael on Saturday night.”

  There had been absolute silence at the table, and then Mary Beth had spoken up. “That’s only one date, Deana. You haven’t won yet. I think we should
agree on a definite time limit. Michael has to date you for two solid weeks before we declare you the winner.”

  “And it has to be exclusive.” Ingrid had declared. “If Michael goes out with anyone else during that time, you lose.”

  “That’s fine with me.” Deana had laughed, and tossed her head. “Why should Michael look at any of you, when he’s got me? You girls might as well give up right now, because you don’t stand a chance!”

  Several of the girls had exchanged glances, and then Mary Beth had snorted disdainfully. “I’m not giving up. And neither is anyone else . . . right, girls?”

  “Right!” Nita had leaned forward to glare at Deana. “Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

  One by one, the girls had turned to glare at Deana, but it hadn’t seemed to faze her. She’d just fluffed her hair, lifted her eyebrows, and laughed. “Knock yourselves out, girls. It doesn’t bother me at all. But I’m warning you . . . I’m going to play dirty. And I’m going to win. Michael’s so handsome, he’s to die for!”

  “Would you?” Judy had given Deana a long, level look. She hated that stupid phrase.

  “Would I what?”

  “Would you die for Michael?”

  Deana had stared at Judy as if she were crazy, and then she’d laughed. “Don’t be silly, Judy. That’s just an expression. But I’m going to win that contest. You can count on it!”

  Judy shivered a bit as she remembered that conversation. Deana had said that Michael was to die for, but she hadn’t known she’d actually wind up dead. It was scary to think that a careless slang phrase could foretell the future, but it had.

  Suddenly, Judy realized that Mr. Calloway was introducing Michael’s first number. She’d almost missed her cue! She flicked a switch and the Covers logo began to change colors, all the way from red to violet and then back again. Judy called it her rainbow effect, and Mr. Calloway had loved it when she’d tried it out at rehearsal that afternoon.

  “And now . . . the star of Covers . . . Michael Warden!”

  Judy dimmed the lights as Mr. Calloway left the stage, then rushed out to move Michael’s stool into position. When Michael was seated, his guitar in his lap, and his microphone live, she hurried back to the light box to bring the lights up again.

  Michael strummed a series of chords on his guitar, and then he pulled the microphone closer. “This is a song I wrote for Deana. I’d like to think she’s listening, wherever she is right now.”

  Judy blinked back tears as Michael started to sing a slow, dreamy ballad about a beautiful girl with ebony hair. There were tears in Michael’s voice, too, and they made his voice deep and almost foggy. It was clear he’d liked Deana a lot; maybe he’d even started to love her. Her death had been a blow to Michael, and Judy wished there were some way she could comfort him. Then she thought about the contest, and she didn’t feel like crying any more. Deana had used Michael, and he was much better off without her.

  Was there some way she could tell Michael about the contest? Warn him that the girls were all after him, like vultures fighting over a choice piece of meat? No. It would only hurt Michael’s pride if she told him. He probably thought Deana had loved him, too. It would be much too cruel to tell him the truth.

  Carla slipped behind the screen to join her, and Judy turned to give her a smile. Carla always watched the first song that Michael sang, and then she went to the office to total the receipts from the ticket sales.

  “Is he all right?” Carla leaned close to whisper in Judy’s ear.

  “I think so.” Judy whispered back. “It’s a song he wrote for Deana.”

  “She didn’t deserve it!” Carla sighed deeply. “Do you think they’re going to call off that contest now?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so.”

  “Me, too.” Carla nodded, and then she frowned. “You’re not in it, are you?”

  “Of course not! You were right, Carla. The girls don’t really care about Michael. He’s only an object to them, the prize they’ll collect if they win the contest. I just wish I’d had the guts to say it like you did.”

  Carla looked surprised, and then she smiled. “Sometimes you have to stick up for what you believe. And I knew that stupid contest would end up causing everybody a lot of grief. I just hope the girls learn a lesson from Deana, and drop it!”

  “What do you mean?” Judy felt a twinge of alarm. “Do you think Deana’s death had something to do with the contest?”

  “Of course. Deana wasn’t supposed to be here last night. Her mother grounded her. But she sneaked out of the house. Deana didn’t dare miss a performance. She was afraid somebody else might move in on Michael if she wasn’t here to look after her interests.”

  Judy nodded. “I see. If Deana hadn’t been so determined to win that contest, she would have stayed home. And if she had, she’d still be alive.”

  “Right.” Carla sighed deeply. “I tried to warn them that the contest was a bad idea, but nobody listened. And now Deana’s dead, and they’re still going on with it.”

  Carla left, and Judy thought long and hard about what she had said. She agreed with Carla. There was a lesson to be learned from Deana’s death, but she didn’t think any of the girls were smart enough to learn it.

  Three

  After Covers closed at eleven, everyone sat at the big round table in the center of the room, waiting for Mr. Calloway’s nightly critique. But he didn’t seem up to the task tonight. He just sat down, and sighed.

  “The show was fine . . . considering. You’re all troupers, and I appreciate the effort you made.”

  “But, Mr. Calloway . . .” Linda looked puzzled. “I was flat on my second number. Didn’t you notice?”

  Mr. Calloway shook his head. “I guess I was too preoccupied, thinking about Deana. Did any of you girls drive here alone tonight?”

  “I think we all did,” Judy volunteered. “We always drive our own cars. We live in different directions.”

  “Okay, let’s have the guys split up and follow you home. I want to make sure you all get there safely.”

  “Do you really think that’s necessary?” Carla frowned. “I live over on the other side of the freeway, Mr. Calloway. It’s out of everybody’s way.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Carla. I’ll follow you myself. I just don’t think you girls should drive alone until they find the guy who killed Deana.”

  “But that could be months from now!” Ingrid said. She looked upset. “We’re not babies, Mr. Calloway. And Deana didn’t get into trouble because she was driving alone. She ran out of gas, and she was hitch-hiking.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Andy spoke up. “I told her. And that’s what my uncle told me. He’s a detective with the Burbank Police Department.”

  “Your uncle’s a detective?” Mr. Calloway looked surprised. “You never mentioned that before.”

  Andy nodded. “I know—it’s something I don’t usually talk about. I’d never get invited to any parties if my friends knew I had a cop in my family.”

  “I see.” Mr. Calloway looked amused for a moment, but then he turned serious again. “What else did your uncle tell you, Andy?”

  “He said they found Deana’s car about two miles from where she was killed, and the gas tank was empty.”

  “But that doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Calloway frowned. “Deana told me she was late because she had to stop for gas.”

  Judy looked thoughtful. “Somebody could have siphoned the gas from her tank. That happened to me a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Here?” Mr. Calloway looked surprised when Judy nodded. “I guess we’d better keep an eye on the cars in our parking lot.”

  Judy nodded. “I already do that. I go out a couple of times every night, between numbers.”

  “Well . . . keep it up.” Mr. Calloway smiled at her approvingly. “And I want everybody to check to make sure they’ve got plenty of gas before they leave, okay?”

  Everyone nodded, and then Judy turne
d to Andy. “Did your uncle tell you if they had any leads?”

  “Not really.” Andy hesitated for a moment, and then he sighed. “But I can tell you more if you want to hear it. It’ll all be in the paper tomorrow anyway.”

  “Tell us.” Michael looked upset as he leaned forward. “I want to know what happened. Maybe there’s something we can do to help the police.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you everything I know.” Andy took a deep breath and began. “They found Deana about two miles from her car. Somebody hit her over the head with a blunt instrument, and then they . . .” Andy stopped and swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Judy nodded. “We’re sure. You said it was going to be the papers tomorrow, anyway.”

  “Right.” Andy swallowed again. “Well . . . after she was dead, somebody stuck . . . uh . . . they stuck an arrow in her chest.”

  Mr. Calloway’s mouth dropped open. “An arrow? But . . . why?”

  “That’s what they’re trying to figure out. They think it might be some sort of gang symbol.”

  “They didn’t . . . uh . . . rape her, did they?” Michael looked horrified.

  “No. They just hit her and killed her, then stuck in that arrow. ”

  Berto winced. “I’ll ask around on the street, but I’ve never heard of any gang that uses arrows. That’s weird . . . unless they’re Indian or something.”

  “Maybe it’s part of some kooky new religion.” Carla looked puzzled. “Was it a real arrow?”

  Andy nodded. “It was the kind you use for archery practice. You can buy them at almost any sporting goods store.”

  “Did they shoot it from a bow?” Mary Beth shivered slightly.

  “No. They just kind of stuck it there.”

  “Maybe it means she was targeted.” Vera’s face was white. “You shoot arrows at a target, right?”

  “That’s what I thought.” Andy nodded. “It must mean something or they wouldn’t have left it there. And my uncle says they’ve never had any trouble with an Indian gang before.”