Obsessed (9781617732393)

by Gibson, Jo

  Becky got out to look at the tire, and confirmed her worst suspicions. It was as flat as a pancake. She wasn’t even sure how to use the jack, but Michael was waiting at the apartment and she’d just have to figure it out.

  A horn beeped, and Becky turned to watch as a car pulled up behind her. She remembered what had happened to Deana, and she opened her car door, intending to get back in and lock all the doors. But then she recognized the car, and she gave a big sigh of relief. What luck! They could leave the car right here by the side of the road, and pick it up in the morning.

  But no. The driver was carrying a tire iron. That was even better. If they changed the tire now, she wouldn’t have to leave her car and risk getting a ticket. Becky walked around to the back of the Toyota and opened the trunk. The jack was in here someplace.

  She had the jack in her hands, and had just turned to say thanks when she saw the moon glinting off the raised tire iron. A blunt instrument. Deana had been bludgeoned to death with a blunt instrument!

  Becky panicked and adrenalin rushed through her veins. She had to get away! She started to run, but her foot slipped on a patch of loose gravel, and she fell heavily to her knees. Then she heard the tire iron whistle through the air, and before she could even raise her arms to ward off the blow, everything went black.

  Five

  Judy turned to Michael in alarm. “Are you okay?” she asked. He looked horrible, and that was quite a feat for someone who was as handsome as Michael.

  “Yeah. I guess.” Michael sighed, and shook his head. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”

  Judy just nodded. Mr. Calloway had told them the news when they’d arrived at Covers for their Monday rehearsal. Becky was dead, bludgeoned to death just like Deana.

  “Mr. Calloway wants everyone in the showroom at five o’clock sharp. Some detective from the Burbank Police Force is coming to talk to us.”

  “But why does he want to talk to us? The police don’t think one of us killed Becky, do they?”

  “Of course not.” Michael draped a friendly arm around her shoulders. “Relax, Jude. Detective Davis just wants to find out more about Becky’s personal life.”

  Judy snuggled up a little closer to Michael. Was he beginning to think of her as more than just the kid next door? But he gave her a quick, friendly squeeze and dropped his arm. Judy stepped back, and did her best to keep the disappointment from showing on her face. “I really didn’t know that much about Becky. Did you?”

  “I knew a little. Her favorite color was blue, she loved pizza with anchovies, and she was afraid of dogs. That’s about it.”

  “Really?” Judy stared hard at Michael, but he seemed totally sincere. Perhaps he really hadn’t been as involved with Becky as everyone had thought. “But . . . Becky told me she was going to spend the night with you last night.”

  Michael looked very embarrassed as he nodded. “Uh . . . yeah. That’s true, Jude. Can I be honest with you?”

  “Of course you can!”

  “Becky arranged the whole thing. It was supposed to be a sort of celebration, with champagne and everything. She . . . uh . . . she kind of sprung it on me at the last minute. Becky was pretty young, and I usually don’t . . . are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Judy nodded. “You can tell me, Michael. I won’t repeat it. I promise.”

  “I know you won’t.” Michael smiled at her. “I trust you, Jude. And I really need someone to talk to.”

  Judy nodded. She wanted to say that she’d always be here for him, but that could come later. “Tell me, Michael.”

  “I didn’t want to do anything that might upset Becky before her audition, so I just nodded and said whatever she wanted was fine with me. I’d like to think I would have talked her into going home, that I wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation, but . . . I just don’t know. Becky was an attractive girl. I’ll never know what would have happened if she’d met me at the apartment.”

  It was clear that Michael felt terribly guilty, and Judy wanted to reassure him. “It doesn’t really matter now, Michael. Becky didn’t get to the apartment. And you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I guess you’re right. I just don’t want anyone to know. Please don’t mention it to Detective Davis, okay?”

  “Are you afraid you’ll get into trouble?”

  “That’s part of it, sure. But there’s another reason. I don’t think it’s fair to ruin Becky’s reputation over something that never happened. Her parents don’t know, and well . . . they might be even more upset if they found out.”

  “You’re right.” Judy nodded. Michael was a totally nice guy. He cared about Becky’s reputation and her parents’ feelings; even though Becky was dead. “I won’t say anything, Michael. And don’t worry. I’ll explain it to everyone else, and they won’t say anything, either.”

  “Thanks, Jude. You’re a real pal, you know?”

  Judy sighed as Michael walked away. A real pal. Michael was still thinking of her as the little kid next door. But it was clear he liked her. And he trusted her, too. Now all she had to do was get him to see her as an attractive woman, the woman he wanted to date. Perhaps it was terribly wrong of her to even think this way, but attracting Michael would be a lot easier now that Becky was gone.

  Judy frowned deeply. Of course she’d never confess her inner thoughts to anyone at the club. It had been perfectly all right to dislike Becky when she was still alive, but now that she was dead, everyone at the club seemed to regard her as some kind of saint. Judy knew that Becky hadn’t been a bad person, but she had been terribly thoughtless. Becky had never stopped to consider anyone else’s feelings. Basing her routine on Carla had been a very unkind thing to do, especially since Becky had come right out and admitted that Carla had been the model for her character. And even worse, Becky had taken that silly contest much too seriously. She’d wanted to win so much, she’d lied to her parents and arranged to spend the night with Michael. Becky had tried to trap Michael, and that hadn’t been fair at all.

  One of the spots was a little off, and Judy started to climb up the ladder to fix it. Mr. Calloway had a rule about using ladders. One person was always supposed to steady the ladder while the other person climbed. But heights didn’t scare Judy, and the ladder was sturdy. She’d already climbed up five steps when she saw Linda racing toward her.

  “Judy, wait!” Linda hurried to the base of the ladder, and steadied it. “Call me next time, okay? You could fall and get hurt up there.”

  Judy smiled down at Linda. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, Linda. I do this all the time.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t.” Linda still looked worried. “You might have a terrible accident.”

  Judy smiled as she climbed the rest of the way up the ladder and stepped out on the catwalk. It was silly, but Linda had really been scared. Her face had been white, and her voice had been shaking when she’d called out to wait. Linda seemed to really care about what happened to her.

  The rest of the girls at the club were very nice when they wanted something from Judy, like a prop they were too busy to find, or some fancy lighting to show off a new outfit. But most of the time they didn’t seem to know that she existed. They were stars, and she was just a girl who worked backstage. Judy had grown used to the division between the stars and the rest of the staff. It was the sort of division that always existed in show business. Linda was a true exception. She was a star who was also a friend, and that made Judy feel very good.

  Detective Davis wasn’t the type to inspire confidence. He was a short, heavy-set man in his fifties with grey hair, a grey complexion, and spots on his tie. Judy’s eyes widened as he emptied five packets of sugar into his coffee. With his weight problem, a little Equal or Sweet n Low would make more sense.

  “I’m looking for possible connections between the two victims.” Detective Davis looked around the table. “Any suggestions?”

  Mr. Calloway nodded. “They both worked here. Deana was a singer and Becky did stand-up comed
y.”

  “Right. Any more?”

  “They both lived in Burbank and they were seniors at Burbank High School.” Mary Beth spoke up.

  Linda nodded. “They lived in the same housing development. I live there, too.”

  “Okay. That’s good.” Detective Davis made a note.

  “They were both female. And they were very sex—uh . . . attractive.” Andy’s face turned red. “Of course, that’s probably not important.”

  Ingrid reached over to pat Andy’s arm. They all knew he’d been trying to date both girls, but he hadn’t gotten anywhere with either of them. “I just thought of a connection. Deana drove a Nissan and Becky had a Toyota. They’re both Japanese cars.”

  Detective Davis nodded. “Right. We’ve got that. Any more?”

  Carla frowned. “Both girls were driving alone, late at night. And they both had car trouble. Maybe nothing would have happened if they’d had a passenger with them.”

  “Good.” Detective Davis smiled at her. “Now here’s a difficult question, but I have to ask. Is it possible that they were involved with any gang members?”

  Everyone looked stunned for a moment and then Michael spoke up. “I’m sure they weren’t, sir. Deana and Becky were here almost every night. We were all friends. We would have known if they were involved with people like that.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Detective Davis turned to Berto and Nita. “According to your earlier statements, you live only a few blocks from a borderline area. Did either of you ever see Becky or Deana in your neighborhood?”

  “No, sir. They never came to our neighborhood.” Nita sounded very definite.

  “My sister is right,” Berto nodded. “And I’m almost sure they had nothing to do with the gangs. They weren’t the type, you know what I mean?”

  “Okay,” Detective Davis said as he nodded, then turned to Vera. “How about you? Can you think of any more connections?”

  Vera started to shake her head, but then she frowned slightly. “They both drank piña coladas. I know. I’m the bartender.”

  “You serve alcohol here?” Detective Davis asked.

  “Oh, no, sir! We serve non-alcoholic fruit drinks, and Becky and Deana always ordered piña coladas.”

  “I see.” Detective Davis nodded. “How about when the girls weren’t here? Did they drink then?”

  Mr. Calloway shook his head. “If they did, it was only an occasional thing. I watch my employees very carefully, and we’ve never had a problem with alcohol.”

  “Drugs?” Detective Davis turned to look at each of them, and one by one, they shook their heads. “Wild parties? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to know.”

  “Becky didn’t go to wild parties.” Ingrid spoke up. “We usually went out together, and she had a curfew. Her parents were very strict.”

  Carla nodded. “I don’t think Deana did, either.”

  “How do you know that?” Detective Davis turned to Carla. “Were you friends?”

  “Not at all. Deana didn’t like me. But she loved to brag about the places she went and the exciting things she did. She would have told me to try to make me jealous.”

  “Is that true?” Detective Davis looked straight at Linda.

  “Well . . . yes. Carla’s right. Deana did like to brag.”

  Detective Davis made another note, and Judy winced slightly. She hoped Carla hadn’t landed on the suspect list by being honest.

  “All right. Are there any other connections we haven’t mentioned?”

  Judy sighed deeply. There was another connection, but there was no way she’d mention it. It would only embarrass Michael. Deana had dated him, and so had Becky. And both of them had been trying their best to win that stupid contest.

  “How about you?” Detective Davis turned to Judy. “You just thought of something, didn’t you?”

  Judy nodded, and thought fast. “Yes. I did think of something. Deana’s father was a lawyer. And I think Becky’s Dad was a parole officer, or something like that. I was just wondering if they might have been involved with the same court case.”

  “Young lady, that’s a winner! I’ll have my men start checking the court records right away. It’s possible the girls were murdered because someone had a grudge against their fathers.”

  Detective Davis beamed at her, and Judy smiled back. She was glad she’d thought of something to say, and Detective Davis seemed to think it might be helpful.

  “Okay. That’s it. You can all go back to your work now.” Detective Davis stood up and tucked his notebook into his pocket. Then he turned to Mr. Calloway. “I’ll give you a card with my telephone numbers. Do you have somewhere you can post it?”

  “How about the office bulletin board?” Carla suggested.

  “That’s good.” Detective Davis nodded. “If you think of anything else, just call and tell me. Even if it seems silly to you, it could be important.”

  Mr. Calloway stood up, too. He hesitated for a moment, and then he asked the question everyone was thinking. “Do you think the same person killed Deana and Becky?”

  “Sorry. I can’t give you that information. But I want all you girls to be very careful. Set up a car pool or something, and don’t go anywhere alone.”

  “We already did that.” Andy leaned forward. “Do you have any leads you can tell us about?”

  “Not at the moment, but something could break any day. We’ll catch him, don’t worry.”

  Mr. Calloway walked Detective Davis to the door, but no one made a move to get up. As soon as they were out of earshot, Andy motioned them closer. “They think it’s the same killer. My uncle told me. There was an arrow stuck in Becky’s chest.”

  “That’s horrible!” Linda shuddered. “I know it’s crazy, but those arrows bother me almost more than the murders.”

  Ingrid nodded. “Me, too. If you hit somebody over the head and kill them, it’s terrible. But if you stick an arrow in them afterwards, it makes the whole thing really creepy.”

  “But they were already dead!” Andy looked puzzled. “The arrow didn’t hurt them, Ingrid.”

  “I know . . . but I still think it’s creepy.”

  “I think the arrows are very important.” Judy spoke up. “I’m almost sure there’s a reason the killer used them.”

  “What reason?” Michael turned to her.

  “The killer could be leaving us a sign. All we have to do is figure it out, and the murders will stop.”

  “If you’re right, the police will figure it out,” Andy declared. “They’re trained to make connections like that.”

  Carla glanced at her watch, and stood up. “We’ve got a show to do in less than three hours. Mr. Calloway says he’ll order in pizza if anyone’s interested. That way we don’t have to go home to eat.”

  “Great idea!” Vera grinned. “I want anchovies on mine.”

  Ingrid nodded. “I’ll split with you, Vera. I love anchovies. Let’s order anchovies, mushrooms and fresh tomatoes on ours.”

  Everyone began to crowd around Carla, giving her their orders. In the confusion, Michael turned to Judy. “Do you really think the arrows are a sign from the killer?”

  Judy nodded. “I do. But no one else seems to be taking me seriously.”

  Michael slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. “Well, I’m taking you very seriously. If you’re right, you might be able to figure it out, Jude. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders.”

  “Thanks.” Judy smiled at him. “Maybe we can get together and talk about it sometime?”

  “I’m not sure I want to. Just thinking about it makes me feel sick. And speaking of feeling sick, what do you want on your pizza?”

  Judy hesitated. She was crazy about sausage and pepperoni, but Michael always ordered Canadian bacon and pineapple.

  “Make up your mind, Jude. We don’t want to be stuck with someone else’s leftovers.”

  “Okay.” Judy nodded. “I’m really in the mood for Canadian bacon and pineapple tonigh
t.”

  “Great! Let’s share. I’ll tell Carla to order an extra large for us.”

  Judy watched as Michael got up to give Carla their order. She hated pineapple, but it was worth it to share a pizza with Michael. And he’d told her that she had a good head on her shoulders. If she could just get him to notice more than her head, this could turn into her lucky day.

  Six

  Judy dimmed the spot as Linda’s last note died away. What a performance! Linda had sung one of Michael’s original songs, a sad ballad about lost love and tearful goodbyes. The audience broke into loud applause as Linda left the stage, and Judy clapped, too. But when Linda reached the screen where Judy was waiting, she didn’t smile as she usually did after a good performance. Instead, she reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” Judy stared at her friend. Linda looked absolutely miserable.

  “I . . . I don’t know.” Linda wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I feel just awful, Jude!”

  Mary Beth was on next, and she arrived just in time to hear Linda’s comment. “But you were fantastic, Linda. It was much better than rehearsal. How did you get that wonderful little quaver on your last note?”

  “I started to cry, and it just came out that way. I kept thinking about Deana and Becky, and . . . and everything.”

  Judy nodded. “If I were you, I’d think about Deana and Becky every time I sang that song. Just listen to that applause.”

  “But, Judy!” Linda looked shocked. “That’s selfish, isn’t it? I’d be using their deaths to sing better.”

  “That’s true. But something good should come out of all this tragedy. And every singer uses personal emotion to enhance a song. Becky and Deana were troupers. If they were here right now, they’d tell you to do whatever works to make your performance better.”

  Mary Beth nodded. “I agree with Judy. It’s sort of like a tribute, you know? I heard an interview with Rhonda Bourelle, and she said she thinks about her dead sister every time she sings, ‘Angel On My Shoulder.’ ”