by Hill, Casey
‘Wesley Fisher,’ Bruce repeated. He added a note under his signature and gave it the girl.
Reilly rolled her eyes as she read over his shoulder. His room number. Typical.
‘He’s another director here at the festival,’ Reynolds went on. ‘Thinks he’s the next big thing but can’t get anyone to watch anything he does. Probably because it’s even worse crap than what’s already being peddled around here. I do know he was trying to get Sheldon to write for him. Match made in heaven if you ask me,’ he added sardonically. ‘Sure to have the straight-to-DVD crowd salivating.’
‘Thanks.’ Daniel looked over at Reilly and she nodded, silently agreeing that they weren’t going to get anything else out of the actor.
Finding Wesley Fisher in the hotel turned out to be much harder than finding the other two. Fitting his image as a little-known director, he didn’t seem to be on any schedules. Finally, following a tip-off from Fisher’s co-producer, they tracked him down at the front desk where he was arguing with the concierge.
‘Sir, for the last time, we are not upgrading your room. We are completely booked this week for the festival. I’m sorry.’ Though the pencil-thin man looked anything but.
‘Wesley Fisher?’ Daniel cut in and the man at the desk gave the investigator a grateful look.
‘Who wants to know?’ Fisher was average in every way. Sandy-brown hair, brown eyes, just under six feet tall. Absolutely nothing about him was remarkable which, in a hotel full of movie bigwigs, was in a way a bit remarkable in and of itself.
‘I’m Daniel Forrest, this is Reilly Steel.’ Daniel showed his badge. ‘We’re looking into the disappearance of Drew Sheldon.’
‘Of course.’ The attitude in Fisher’s voice vanished, replaced by concern. ‘I’d heard he was missing.’
‘And we heard that you might have had a problem with him.’ Reilly deliberately phrased her statement to provoke a response. Something about Fisher’s concern struck her as false.
Fisher gave a half-smile. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. Drew and I had our disagreements, but nothing more than two creative minds trying to collaborate on one vision.’
‘So he was going to write a screenplay for you to direct?’ Daniel asked.
Fisher shook his head. ‘No. We tried for a few days but decided that our creative vision was just too different. We parted on good terms.’
‘Do you know anyone who might not have been quite so willing to let things go?’
The director considered the question before answering. ‘It’s hard to say for sure. In this business, simple misunderstandings are blown up into feuds, disagreements into vendettas. I do know Toby Carpenter was arguing with Drew on the first day of the festival.’
‘How do you know?’ Reilly tried to keep the suspicion from her voice. Fisher’s answers came easily, without a trace of guile. But for some reason, she didn’t trust him.
‘I heard them. Actually, everybody heard them. They were in the middle of the lobby having a shouting match.’ Fisher shrugged. ‘Then again, Toby doesn’t really seem like the type to kidnap someone. He’s more of a “ruin their reputation” type of guy.’
Reilly caught Daniel’s eye and he nodded slightly.
‘One more thing,’ Reilly said. ‘There are some other rumors going around about someone messing around with classic movie scenes.’
‘Really?’ Fisher asked. ‘What do you mean, “messing around”?’
She chose her words carefully. ‘Crosscutting new film together with old.’
‘Hmm.’ He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Interesting. What does Drew’s disappearance have to do with that?’
‘Just covering all angles, Mr Fisher,’ Reilly replied smoothly, giving nothing away. ‘So what kind of movies do you direct? Sorry to say I don’t think I’ve heard of you before.’
Fisher smirked. ‘Let me guess, you like those soppy chick-flicks where boy meets girl, there’s some misunderstanding or lie that breaks them up, then there’s a big emotional scene where they get back together.’
Reilly blinked. Not exactly the response she’d been expecting from someone who’d tried to be overly pleasant and helpful so far. She smiled. ‘No, I’m more of a mystery fan, actually. I like figuring out who did it.’
‘Well,’ Fisher said, returning the smile, the corners of his eyes tightening, ‘good luck with that. And be sure to let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.’
‘Sure.’ Daniel looked back and forth between Fisher and Reilly, a puzzled expression on his face. As he and Reilly moved away, he said, ‘You were pretty rough on him even by your standards. Any particular reason for that?’
‘I don’t know. I just think there’s something off about him.’
‘This is the movie business, Reilly. There’s something off with almost everyone here,’ Daniel joked.
‘Hey, are you the investigators looking into the disappearance of Drew Sheldon?’ asked a middle-aged man, interrupting the banter.
‘That’s right. And you are?’ Reilly held out a hand.
The man shook it; a firm, confident shake without lingering. His eyes were intelligent, his gaze appraising without leering. ‘Jason Stuart, I’m a casting director. I was scheduled to work with Drew on his next project. Kai told me you were here, said I should talk to you. She doesn’t have much faith in the cops.’
‘So you and Mr Sheldon got along well?’ Daniel asked.
Jason shook his head. ‘That’s what’s odd. The last time Sheldon and I worked together, he was furious about the actress I cast as the heroine in Chase the Wind. Said I should’ve refused Carpenter’s request for a recast. He told me that, if he had his way, I’d never work on another of his films. Then, this week, he was acting like it had never happened. I just went with it. In this business, you learn not to argue when things are going well.’
‘Mr Stuart,’ Reilly said, ‘is there a specific reason you sought us out? Most people haven’t exactly been eager to talk to us.’
‘Well, like I told the detectives, I think I was one of the last people to see Drew before he vanished,’ Jason said. ‘We were having a smoke in the alley, talking about this new project he wanted me to work on. I finished my cigarette and headed back inside to meet up with a . . . friend. Drew stayed out for another.’
Based on his hesitation, Daniel seemed to deduce exactly why he was so eager to go back inside. ‘And your friend can confirm that you were with her for the rest of the night?’
Jason nodded. ‘She can. When I left Drew, there were only a couple of other people in the alley with him.’
‘Who else?’
‘Wesley Fisher and Paul Lennox, his co-producer, as far as I can remember. And a couple of other guys that I faintly recognized but don’t know. There are so many hangers-on in this business that faces tend to blend into each other.’
A buzz cut into the conversation. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. ‘Forrest. Hold on a minute.’ Holding the phone at his side, he spoke again to the casting director. ‘Thanks for your help, we appreciate it.’
Reilly followed Daniel through a set of double doors and out into the late afternoon heat. She took a deep breath of the heavy, muggy air as Daniel spoke to whoever was on the phone. In a way, she guessed Daniel was right. The whole Hollywood scene was definitely something she didn’t understand.
‘It’s Todd. Their computer expert just tracked down one of the people who posted an admiring comment beneath the YouTube video of Holly’s murder.’ Daniel’s prior good humor had vanished. ‘Seems like our killer has been splicing films for a while. Old bar brawls and fight scenes. They’ve been popping up online for a couple of months and he’s got a nice little following. So irrespective of whether this guy is already involved in the movie business, he’s certainly on his way to going mainstream.’
Reilly cursed. If they didn’t catch up with this guy soon, they could have a string of copycats looking for their fifteen minutes.
Daniel se
emed to be thinking the very same thing, and the expression in his eyes suddenly made him seem far older than he was. ‘We need to find this guy, Reilly, and fast.’
CHAPTER 19
The following morning Bradley dropped a newspaper onto Todd’s desk. ‘Take a look at this.’
‘What?’ Todd looked up from his workstation. He’d been working on getting a trace from the rock at the beach used to kill the movie-maker’s first male victim. So far, the only things he’d found were pieces of the same orange cotton fibers that had been in the victims’ mouths. The killer had kept the towel wrapped around his hand when he’d picked up the rock. Impulsive but smart.
‘He wrote to the Tampa Bay Times.’
Todd picked up the newspaper and the words leaped out at him in stark black and white. He found himself reading out loud, as if the verbalization would create some semblance of sanity to the moment.
I am writing to tell the city of Tampa not to fear. I am not looking to create a state of panic. While there has been unfortunate collateral damage, I am not killing indiscriminately.
Those who appreciate the true art of film making will come to respect the nature of my work, and the statement that I am trying to make.
As I continue to work on my project, I will send periodic updates so that the less evolved audience can understand what I am trying to accomplish.
‘Narcissistic son of a bitch . . .’ Todd shook his head. He looked up at Bradley. ‘When do we get the letter for analysis?’
‘It was an email, apparently.’ He leaned back against the counter. ‘Detectives already have the IT department tracing it. And another thing,’ he added tiredly, ‘it’s not Drew Sheldon’s or the kidnapper’s blood from yesterday.’
‘How do you know for sure?’ Todd asked, interested despite himself. Even though it wasn’t the crime scene he was focused on, the Sheldon one had been his. ‘The blood type in the alley was the same as on the medical records, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. But it didn’t matter according to the tox screen, because whoever this blood is from had so much amobarbital and alcohol in their system that they would’ve been comatose, if not dead.’
‘Couldn’t the kidnapper have drugged Sheldon, though? And maybe he already had alcohol in his system?’ Todd suggested.
‘Not this much,’ Bradley said. He turned toward Todd. ‘Stand up.’
He did as asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘You be Sheldon.’ Bradley picked up a pen from the table. ‘If I’m the kidnapper, I’d have to have a syringe with a highly concentrated dose to even get close to what I’m seeing here. Now, to cause the blood we saw in the alley, I’d have to create a wound bigger than one I could make with a needle, so I’d need a knife too.’ He picked up a ruler.
‘So you have a knife in one hand and the syringe in the other.’ Todd’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’d need to put the knife in your dominant hand, which would leave the syringe in your weaker one.’
‘But for the drugs to be in your system, I’d have to inject you first, wait a few seconds to a couple of minutes, depending on the injection site, and then cut you.’
‘If I’m Sheldon . . .’ Todd saw the problem as Bradley swung down with his left hand. He reached up and grabbed his wrist. ‘I’ve just walked out to talk to you for some reason, so I’m facing you when you try to inject me. I grab your wrist. It’s not your dominant hand, so I can stop you.’
‘And if I try to use the knife with my free hand . . .’ Bradley brought his other arm forward. ‘Even if I could manage to only nick you while struggling with my other hand, there’s no way for you to already have the drugs in your system.’
‘And if your initial attack resulted in you successfully injecting me,’ Todd said, ‘I’d automatically grab for the syringe and yank it out.’
‘Unless I knock you out, there’s no way for me to pick up the syringe and still keep you under control.’
‘But if you’d knocked me out, there’d be drag marks at the scene leading to your car. Which there weren’t.’ He was thoughtful. ‘But that would be the only way to be able to come back for the syringe. If I’m not unconscious, keeping me locked in the car while you went back to get the syringe wouldn’t be very smart.’
‘Especially since the department had doubled police patrols for that area,’ Bradley stated. ‘Would it be worth it to go back for the syringe if there was a chance of being caught?’
‘There’s no scenario that allows for either Sheldon or the kidnapper to be both drunk and drugged without leaving behind a method of drug delivery, or someone being unconscious,’ Todd mused. ‘And since there’s no evidence of someone falling or being dragged, it’s safe to assume that they both walked to the vehicle under their own power.’
Bradley nodded. ‘Which can only mean that the blood belongs to someone else.’
Detective Julie Sampson motioned to the suspect on the other side of the glass, currently being held by the Tampa PD in connection with the ‘movie-maker killings’ as they were now being called.
‘Meet Brett Kubiak,’ the female detective said to Daniel and Reilly. ‘Twenty-year-old film student at NYU, home in Florida for a study break.’
The detectives had picked him up via a comment beneath the online clip of Holly’s murder. ‘The kid the cyber-crime geeks found yesterday gave us Kubiak’s real name, said they’d been communicating online for a couple of months.’
Reilly studied the dark-haired young man in the interrogation room. He was decidedly unkempt and almost too thin, the bones of his wrists visible under his pale skin. He didn’t look especially dangerous, but she knew that looks could be deceiving.
How many times were serial killers described as quiet and charming when in reality they were making suits of human skin?
‘Kubiak’s screen name is The Acolyte,’ the detective said. ‘Our techs have been working on connecting him to other videos, and so far we’ve identified him as having commented on several of the spliced movies, always complimentary and encouraging.’
‘The Acolyte,’ Daniel murmured. ‘Interesting name choice.’
‘What do you mean?’ the detective asked, but before Daniel could answer, their attention was drawn to someone entering the interrogation room. The interview was about to begin.
A tall detective with thinning black hair whom Reilly hadn’t seen before took a seat in front of Kubiak. The kid didn’t even look up.
‘So, Kubiak, you like horror movies?’ the interrogator asked.
‘Sure.’ The kid kept his eyes on the table. ‘And long walks on the beach at sunset.’
‘Don’t be a smartass.’ The detective stood up, put his hands in his pockets and began to pace. ‘You’re in a lot of trouble.’
‘For what?’ Kubiak barely sounded interested, much less concerned.
‘Did you watch a film online that showed a girl getting ripped asunder and then comment that you were “looking forward to more”?’
‘It’s a movie,’ Kubiak said, shrugging. ‘And last I checked, freedom of speech includes posting comments on public internet sites.’
The detective stepped up right next to the suspect. ‘You know what I think?’
‘Very little, I would assume.’ Kubiak leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘But go ahead.’
‘Funny.’ The detective didn’t take the bait and Reilly wondered if he had always been that laid-back or if it was an acquired habit. He continued, ‘I think you set up and filmed that murder, then couldn’t help yourself and had to brag.’
Kubiak finally looked up, his expression carefully blank. ‘I’m flattered, but it wasn’t me. This guy has been working for months. Find the other videos and you’ll see I was nowhere near where they were filmed.’
Julie Sampson’s voice turned Reilly’s attention away from the interrogation. ‘What do you think, Dr Forrest?’ she asked. ‘Could he be our guy, or are we wasting our time?’
Daniel’s jaw was set and Rei
lly knew what he was going to say. ‘No, I don’t think it’s him. He admires the person who did the work, that’s why he posts the comments. He wants the actual killer to see that he appreciates the “art” of what he’s trying to achieve. Kubiak may secretly want to emulate the murderer, but he hasn’t done anything other than watch.’
‘What makes you think he wants to emulate the killer?’ the detective asked.
‘The name he chose for himself,’ Daniel replied. ‘It means disciple or follower.’
CHAPTER 20
‘I’ve never seen anything like this.’ Assistant Medical Examiner Dr Matthew Perez’s skin had taken on a pale, waxy appearance.
Todd couldn’t blame him. The violence of Holly’s and the other murders had been bad, but this was somehow different.
Maybe because of the damage to the face. There was something depersonalizing about seeing someone’s face like that, something that had once been normal looking so completely non-human.
‘Do you understand the sheer force it would take to do this to someone?’ The assistant medical examiner took a step back and gathered himself.
Given the severity of the violence, Todd was mildly impressed with the young man’s quick recovery time. ‘Could it have been a kick in the back of the head?’
‘A kick?’ The young man shook his head. ‘No, at least not in the traditional sense.’ Dr Perez pointed to the shattered remains of Anton Williams’s jaw. ‘The detectives said he was found face down on the sidewalk?’
Todd nodded. ‘It looked like he’d put his mouth to the edge of the curb and . . .’ he swallowed hard, not wanting to finish the sentence.
He recognized the setup of this one too. American History X was a good, if disturbing, movie about a vengeance-seeking white supremacist. There was a particularly memorable (for all the wrong reasons) black-and-white scene in which Edward Norton’s skinhead character makes an attempted thief – a young African American man like their victim – pay by making him ‘bite the curb’, before stomping on the back of his head to break his neck and jaw.
