by Joanne Fluke
Tony leaned back and stretched. They were making great progress on the second scene, and it was possible they’d finish it by early afternoon if they kept on working.
“Why don’t I call out for Deli and we’ll eat lunch here? We’re really on a roll. Get it, Erik? Deli? On a roll?”
“It’s lunchtime already?” Erik looked up from the keyboard to glance at the clock on Tony’s office wall. He had to meet Allison for lunch at Donny’s. “What time is it, Tony? I can’t read your damn clock.”
“It’s easy, Erik. The purpose triangle is the minute hand, the pink oblong thing is the hour hand, and the little turquoise circle counts off the seconds. Just remember that the hands don’t move but the clock face does, and the twelve is marked by that little orange square. See? It’s eleven purple rectangles and three green dots past the orange square.”
“Fine, Tony. But what time is it?”
“Eleven fifty-seven give or take a few seconds. By the time I figure them out, they’ve changed anyway.”
“I thought you were having lunch with Lon Michaels today. It’s in your book.”
“I was, but he canceled. So how about it? Do you want Deli?”
Tony turned to see Erik staring at the clock in dismay.
“Sorry, Tony. I’ve got something I have to do. An important appointment. If I don’t leave right now, I’m going to be late.”
“It’s really important?”
“Yes. I’m meeting with my tax man. Sorry, Tony. I’ll try to be back early.”
Tony was about to protest when he remembered that it was his fault that they hadn’t worked on the screenplay yesterday.
“Okay, but hurry back. I’ll keep on working, and maybe we can still finish this up today. I don’t have to leave again until three.”
“Three?” Erik frowned. “Do you really have to leave so early?”
“Sorry, old buddy.” Tony thought fast. He’d arranged to see the new murder DVD with Sam at three-thirty. “I promised to meet Alan at the studio. I could always call and put it off until tomorrow but . . .”
“No, don’t do that. Keeping up a good rapport with Alan is critical. I’m just getting nervous about meeting our deadline. He needs those scenes by August second.”
“Don’t sweat it, Erik. This is only the twenty-sixth and that gives us a full week. We’ll be done long before then, especially if we put in a couple of marathon nights.”
Erik sighed, resigned to missing his regular sleep. “Okay, Tony. You work up a schedule that’s good for you, and I’ll be here.”
Five minutes later Erik was speeding through Hollywood, feeling guilty about lying to Tony. He didn’t even have a tax man. But he hadn’t wanted to admit that he was meeting Allison. Naturally, Tony would have joined them, and then they couldn’t discuss Tony’s problem. As Erik pulled into the parking lot at Donny’s, he suddenly realized that he was doing the very same thing that Tony was doing. Telling outright lies to cover his actions. Of course, there was a good reason for Erik’s lies. Were there also good reasons for Tony’s?
Katy turned off her television with trembling hands and reviewed her notes. She’d just finished rewatching the murder scenes in the privacy of her own living room They were graphic, frightening, and amazingly well done. She felt ill.
Katy got up and went into her kitchenette to make a cup of herbal tea. The leader in her therapy group was death on coffee. She claimed that caffeine poisoned the body and caused negative personality changes. Katy had been scrupulous about restricting her coffee intake to one cup a day, and she’d already had her limit.
Katy took out the package of tea and read the ingredients on the box as she waited for the water to heat. Blackberry leaves, lemongrass, and rose hips. It sounded like breakfast for a rabbit. She tossed the box of tea in the wastebasket and immediately felt better. She hated herbal tea. Maybe it was time she started thinking for herself instead of listening to her therapy leader. She’d been much happier before she’d started attending the group. Using the microscope of introspection to examine the psychological motivation behind her every action was more bother than it was worth. If she spent hours thinking about why she wanted to do something before she did it, she never got around to doing it at all.
Suddenly Katy longed for the old days when she was lighthearted and impulsive. She grabbed ajar of instant coffee from the top shelf and spooned the freeze-dried crystals into a mug. If it was true that caffeine caused personality changes, she might just be due for one.
Armed with a steaming cup of coffee, Katy returned to her spot in front of the television. She had noticed that Tammara Welles seemed half in a trance when she’d arrived at the murder scene. That was something she could dig into. Had the Video Killer used drugs to dull his victim’s senses? She knew that Miss Welles had hosted a party for charity that night. Was it possible that the Video Killer had mingled with the guests to slip something in her drink?
Katy reached for the phone and put in a quick call to her boss. Billy Goat had told her to call if she needed anything from the newspaper morgue. The phone was answered on the third ring by his secretary, Margo.
“Bill Morgan’s office. He’s not in right now, but I can take a message.”
“Hi, Margo. This is Katy Brannigan.”
“Oh, Katy!” Margo sounded breathless. “Things are really popping down here with the new murder and all. Mr. Morgan’s down at police headquarters. Your ex called a press conference. But he told me to beep him immediately if you called in with a story.”
“No story yet, Margo. I just need some information from the files.”
“I’ll pull it for you. Mr. Morgan told me to give you anything you wanted.”
“Thanks, Margo. I need a list of the guests who attended Tammara Welles’s charity party on the eleventh.”
“That’s easy. I have a copy right here on my desk. Your ex requested one the day after Miss Welles was killed, and I haven’t refiled it yet.”
Katy sighed as she made arrangements to pick it up. Sam was ahead of her by two full weeks. What other information did he have? She simply had to find out.
A moment later Katy was back on the couch, watching the murder scenes again. There was something very familiar about the scenes the Video Killer had shot. They were a lot like Hitchcock films. That was it!
Katy fast-forwarded through them again. Yes, the first one was Psycho, the second was a remake of Strangers on a Train, and the third, with the necktie strangling of Diana Ellington, had all the elements of Frenzy. Had Sam noticed the pattern? Katy doubted it. Sam’s movie collection consisted entirely of detective films. Naturally he’d heard of Psycho, but she doubted that he’d seen any other of Hitchcock’s films. She knew she had to see the fourth disc, the one Sam must have in his possession right now, to find out whether her theory was correct.
VIDEO KILLER REMAKES HITCHCOCK MURDERS. Katy could see the headline now with her name below in twelve-point type. She’d be the first to break the story, scooping every veteran investigative reporter in the city. She’d be famous. Maybe she’d even win a Pulitzer. But first she had to find out if she was right.
There was only one way to get her hands on the fourth DVD, and Katy reached for the phone again. She took a deep, calming breath as she dialed Sam’s private office number.
Sam answered on the second ring. He sounded tired and harassed, but the moment he realized who was calling, there was a special intimacy in his voice.
“I heard about the fourth murder, Sam. You must be exhausted. I just thought I’d offer to cook dinner for you tonight so you won’t have to go out.”
“That sounds great, Katy. Your place or mine?
“Yours. That way you won’t have to drive. Is six all right?”
“It’s fine. Do you want to stop by my office to pick up the key?”
“Uh . . . no.” Katy could feel herself starting to blush even though she knew Sam couldn’t see her. “I still have mine. Unless you’ve changed the locks.”
Katy smiled and hung up the phone. He hadn’t changed the locks. She quickly stopped herself from looking for psychological motives and began to jot down a grocery list. She’d stick to Sam like glue this week. It shouldn’t be hard. He’d certainly been glad to see her last night. Naturally, she’d copy the fourth murder DVD, and if she got very lucky, Sam would slip and tell her even more. As Katy gathered up her things and headed for the door, she was surprised to find that she was trembling a little in anticipation of the evening ahead.
16
Lon flicked on the lights and glanced at his audience of one. Alan Goldberg was smiling. “Well, Alan? What’s the verdict?”
“That shower scene is great, Lon. Just what we need. And it’s subtle, too. All implied violence and no gross-out.”
“The low light levels work?”
“Absolutely. Rocca and Nielsen’ll be thrilled. Who did you use for the victim? She’s good.”
Lon winced. “That was Diana. She dropped by the night I was making the test.”
“Diana Ellington? Jesus, Lon . . . that’s one hell of a coincidence!”
“I know. We talked seriously about the possibility of casting her. Diana really wanted in on the project.”
“Lon, I don’t know what to say except that you’ve got my sympathies. You must feel like hell every time you run that test.”
Lon nodded. “You could say that.”
“What a colossal waste!” Alan took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. “That’s the big trouble in this business, Lon. Guesswork. It’s all guesswork.”
“How’s that?” Lon looked puzzled.
“Your test with Diana. If we’d only known, you could have shot the damn thing as a strangling instead of a stabbing.”
The screen on the television in Sam Ladera’s office went black, and Tony stretched to ease his tension.
“Rear Window?” Sam asked the question.
“That’s right.” Tony sighed. “Christie Jensen looks just like Irene Winston. Everything fits the pattern, Sam.”
Sam nodded. “I really hate to push you, Tony. But do you think you can come up with a partial list of Hitchcock victims for me? I’ve got to start warning those look-alike actresses.”
“Sure. I’ll have something for you any day now.”
“I appreciate this, Tony. I know how busy you are, and watching all these films is above and beyond. I really owe you one.”
“No problem, Sam.” Tony smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. Sam wouldn’t be quite so appreciative if he knew that Allison was the one who was watching the DVDs. Now he’d have to think up another lie to urge her to hurry with that damn list. Tony remembered the phrase his mother had been fond of quoting. Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive. It was true. With all these deceptions and half truths floating around, his life was getting very complicated. He just hoped he could keep them all straight until the Video Killer was caught.
Allison spooned up the last of her chili and smiled at Erik. Donny’s was even better than she’d expected, but she could understand why Erik had thought it was a hangout for hookers. The blonde at the next table was wearing a red satin minidress that was so short she couldn’t even sit on it, and her redheaded companion wore a silver peekaboo top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
“Well? What do you think of my discovery?” Erik finished his chili and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“It’s the best chili I’ve ever had, Erik, but I don’t even want to think about what’s in it. I’m surprised the bowls don’t melt.”
“True.” Erik nodded. “Just look what it’s done to the tabletops. They used to be white.”
“You’re joking!” Allison glanced down at the orange tabletop and then back up at Erik. “Aren’t you?”
“You’ll never know. How about dessert? They make a great lemon meringue pie, but I’d recommend their house sundae. The ice cream puts out the fire from the chili.”
“Just coffee, Erik. I couldn’t eat another bite.”
Erik waved the owner over, a round-bellied man whose apron had seen better days, and ordered coffee. A moment later he was back, carrying two chipped white mugs filled to the brim and a sticky-looking sugar bowl.
As soon as the owner had left, Erik turned to Allison. “I forgot to ask you what happened on your anniversary.”
“It was nice.” Allison smiled. “Tony got home about three that afternoon, and he gave me a complete collections of Hitchcock movies and an assortment of gourmet popcorn.”
“Did you go out to dinner?”
“No. Tony only had an hour. Then he went back to the office to work.”
Erik stared at her for a long moment, and then he shook his head. “He didn’t come back to the office, Allison. I worked late that night, until almost eleven-thirty. I remember making a crack to the night guard at the complex about coming in just seconds before I turned into a pumpkin.”
“If Tony wasn’t home or at the office, where did he go?”
“I don’t know, Allison.” Erik turned to her seriously. “Have you noticed anything different about Tony lately?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, a change in personality. He still jokes around at the office, but I think something’s worrying him. I just wondered if you knew what it was.”
Allison shook her head. “I don’t know, Erik. Tony doesn’t talk to me anymore. I . . . I barely see him, and when he comes home he’s too exhausted to do anything but fall into bed. I can tell he’s under a lot of stress, but every time I bring it up, he says there’s nothing wrong. He’s got so much on his mind that sometimes he’s positively insensitive.”
“I noticed that, too. Think carefully, Allison . . . do you remember what Tony said when he told you about the first murder?”
“Of course. He called me at home and said, ‘Great news, honey! I think we just sold Video Kill.’”
“And what was your reaction?”
“I asked him for details, and he told me about the murder. He was very excited, but I felt a little sick about the whole thing.”
“Tony acted the same way with me. He was almost euphoric. He kept telling me how lucky we were. He really didn’t seem to care that a woman had been brutally murdered.”
“But Tony’s not like that, Erik! He cares about other people. At least, I think he does.”
“That used to be true, Allison, but Tony’s changed. You know how we work. Tony blocks out the scenes, and I write the dialogue. That means Tony’s got to finish the blocking before I can do my part.”
Allison nodded. She knew how the two men worked together.
“Well, I waited a full week for Tony’s blocking, but when he kept putting me off, I finally went ahead and did the first scene without him.”
“Tony didn’t do any work at all?”
“Not then. After I was finished, I asked Tony to read it. He said it was well written but we couldn’t use it because it wasn’t the way the murder had actually happened. My whole point is, how did he know?”
Allison shrugged. “He probably got some inside information. Tony knows a lot of people.”
“I asked him about that, and he swore he hadn’t been able to find out a thing. Now, how could he be so positive about the full details of all those murders? Unless he was there when the murders were committed!”
“Erik! Are you saying that you think Tony is . . .” Allison stopped, unsure whether to laugh or get angry. “I can’t believe you said that. It’s ridiculous. Tony doesn’t have any reason to . . .”
“How about money?” Erik interrupted her. “Think about it, Allison. What if Tony figured the only way to sell our Video Killer story was to make it into a reality?”
“That’s absurd!” Allison began to get angry. “I don’t know what’s got into you, Erik. You know Tony would never do something like that! And if you even conside
r the possibility, then you’re certainly no friend of Tony’s and no friend of mine!”
Allison grabbed her purse and tried to stand up, but Erik grabbed her arm.
“Allison, wait. Maybe I’m way off base here. I hope to God I am. But something’s wrong. You can’t deny that. The only way to help Tony out of whatever trouble he’s in is to figure out what it is.”
Allison wavered a moment, but then she sat back down. It was true there was a problem, and denying it wouldn’t make it go away. But Tony certainly wasn’t the Video Killer!
“Look, Allison, forget all that Video Killer stuff for a minute and let’s discuss this rationally. I’ve taken some calls from creditors at the office. I know Tony’s hurting for money. Exactly how bad is his financial situation?”
“I don’t know.” Allison’s voice broke, and she took another swallow of coffee. “Tony handles the money. I’ve asked him, but he says that everything’s fine. And every time I bring it up, he gets mad.”
“Check on it, Allison. You’ve got a joint account, don’t you? Go to the bank and ask for a copy of your last statement. And if you find out that Tony’s in financial trouble, maybe we can get a loan or something to help him out.”
Allison thought about Erik’s suggestion for a moment. “All right.”
“And I think you should keep a log of the times Tony comes in. He’s got to be going somewhere when he’s not at home and not at the office. We have to find out where.”
Allison shook her head. “I won’t do that, Erik. I want to know where he goes more than you do, but I will not spy on him.”
Erik looked down at the table for a moment and then he sighed. “Okay. Maybe that’s carrying things a little too far. It’s just that I’m worried about Tony, and I really want to help him.”
“Me too.” Allison opened her purse and took out a package of cigarettes. “Would you get me some matches, Erik? I forgot my lighter.”
As Erik got up to go to the counter, he noticed that the redhead at the next table was lighting a cigarette. He asked if he could borrow her lighter for a second, and handed it to Allison.
