Video Kill

12


“Everything looks fine, Erik.” Dr. Trumbull wrote a notation on Erik’s chart and looked up with a smile. “Your lungs are clear . . . this time.”

Erik smiled back. He liked his new doctor. One of the things that really burned him about going to the V.A. hospital was the way they kept switching his doctors. It was a lottery, but this time he’d lucked out. Dr. Trumbull was young and he didn’t mince around with medical terminology. He called Q fever by its common name, not some multisyllabic medical term that no one but a doctor could pronounce.

“So how are the headaches?”

“Worse.” Erik didn’t mince around, either. “The pills you gave me aren’t working.”

“And the blackout periods?”

“Just as bad, but the psychiatrist told me not to worry. You’ve got his report there, don’t you?”

Dr. Trumbull nodded. “He seems to think that the blackouts are your way of dealing with the trauma you experienced in the war. Some of the front-line vets I’ve treated have flashbacks and nightmares that turn them into basket cases for months at a time. You have a bad headache with a blackout, and you’re back on your feet again the next morning. You’re lucky, Erik. It could be much worse.”

Erik nodded, but he didn’t feel lucky. In fact, he felt another headache coming on. It was a good thing he’d finished up his work at the office.

“Let’s try something different for the headaches.” Dr. Trumbull pulled a packaged sheet of pills from his desk. “There’s a new drug on the market they want me to test. How do you feel about becoming a statistic?”

“I’ll try almost anything. Does it have any side effects?”

“You mean like gaining two hundred pounds?” Dr. Trumbull smiled as he handed Erik a sheaf of papers to sign. “We haven’t found any side effects so far, but the test group has been pretty small.”

“I’ll try it.” Erik signed his name to the papers and exchanged them for the packet of pills. Then he noticed the name of the drug. “Mezo . . . what?”

“Mezopropathalomine. I call them zonkers because that’s what they do. Take one every time you feel a headache coming on. It’ll knock you out in about thirty minutes and keep you out for an hour or more. It should block out all the pain and leave you rested. Now, run down to the lab and do the drill for them and come in to see me in two weeks.”

The lab didn’t take long. Erik rolled up his sleeve for a veteran nurse who looked a little like Louise Fletcher in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and let her take his blood pressure. Then there were the usual blood and urine samples. The nurse was efficient, and within ten minutes Erik was through. He left the building and took a deep breath of the air outside. He hated the smell of a hospital. Then he walked quickly to the parking lot and retrieved his car. He had to hurry if he wanted to beat the traffic on the freeway.

As Erik pulled out of the lot and drove past the beautifully kept lawns, he tried not to glance toward the psych building on his right. Its locked wards were directly across the quadrangle from the Wadsworth Theater. Erik had seen enough of the Wadsworth to last him a lifetime. He had stared at its entrance for a solid month from a barred window in the psych building.

The strain of a broken marriage and a son with serious medical problems had taken its predictable toll. Erik had managed to hold himself together until the divorce was final and he’d sent Jamie off to Pine Ridge. Then he had suffered what the doctors at the V.A. hospital had called acute stress syndrome. The memories of those painful months, spent in the confines of a locked room, were something that Erik was determined never to experience again. For months after he’d been released with a clean bill of health, he’d worried that Daniele would find out about his breakdown and wage a custody battle, but he’d eventually realized that his ex-wife wasn’t remotely interested in Jamie. In all the years that Jamie had been at Pine Ridge, she’d never even called to ask about his progress.

The San Diego Freeway was already crowded, but Erik hopped on anyway. At least it was moving. It took him thirty minutes to navigate the six-mile stretch to Culver City, and several times he fought the urge to get off and take Sepulveda, which roughly paralleled the freeway. Whenever he’d taken Sepulveda as an alternate route in the past, he’d always seemed to get behind cars turning left, across traffic. A five-cycle wait at a stoplight was much more frustrating than crawling along on the freeway.

As he turned in on Sunshine Lane, Erik pulled straight up to the guard kiosk. The residents’ entrance was still blocked off with white-and-orange sawhorses. Norma waved and pressed the button to raise the gate.

“The gate’s still broken?”

“Nope.” Norma grinned. “It’s broken again. They fixed it this morning, but some lady in a Cadillac drove right through it.”

The neighborhood kids were out playing ball on the street, and Erik stopped to let them finish pitching before he drove through. The boy at bat was about Jamie’s age. Perhaps they could become friends when Jamie came home.

It took Erik less than five minutes to park his car, look through the mail, and feed Al, who’d obviously spent a grueling morning holding down the rug. There was nothing in the refrigerator that looked interesting enough to eat, so he called out for a pizza. Erik had the delivery boy at Chris’s Pizza well trained. He knew that the word tip was an acronym for “To Insure Promptness.” Since Erik had the reputation for tipping generously, his pizzas were always delivered piping hot, just out of the oven.

Erik poured himself a beer and sat down in front of the television set to wait for his food to arrive. Al padded in and jumped up to nestle on his lap. The afternoon sun streamed into the living room, and the scene was domestic and tranquil. He’d just gotten a new medication for his headaches, Jamie was showing improvement, and the first scene of the screenplay was practically finished. Erik tried to convince himself that everything was fine. There was no reason to sit here feeling like the other shoe was about to drop.





Katy checked her appearance in the rearview mirror and added a touch of blusher to her cheeks. Sam would like her new suit. Green was his favorite color. And she was wearing her hair long and loose, the way he’d always preferred it. It would be difficult to see Sam again and even more difficult to ask for a favor, but it would be worth it in the end. She had decided to come right out and tell Sam the truth. She’d say that Billy Goat had assigned her to the Video Killer’s story, that it was critical to her career at the paper, and that she’d be very grateful for any help he could give her.

“Mrs. Ladera!” Andy Mertens, the desk sergeant, looked up as she approached, and his florid face crinkled in a broad smile of greeting. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Andy.” Katy smiled back, even though she had to squelch the impulse to say that she was no longer Mrs. Ladera. “I came to see Sam, if he’s available.”

“Well, he said no more visitors, but . . .” Andy hesitated. The chief had left strict orders, but Katy wasn’t exactly a visitor. And everyone in the department knew he’d been in a blue funk since his divorce. He’d just started to act halfway human again when this Video Killer thing hit. Maybe seeing her would be good for the chief.

“Hang on a couple of minutes, Mrs. Ladera. There’s some lady reporter with him right now, but she won’t last long. He’s already kicked out three today. Everybody wants a story on the Video Killer, and the chief’s getting real touchy about it. Personally, I think he’s about ready to blow his stack, and you know what that means.”

Katy nodded. Sam’s temper was slow to build, but when it reached the point of no return, there was always a fiery explosion. She certainly didn’t want to be the one who pushed him over the edge with her questions about the Video Killer. Perhaps it would be smart to think of an alternative plan.

“I’m guessing it won’t be more than five minutes.” Andy gestured toward Sam’s office door. The voices inside were growing louder. “Would you like a cup of coffee while you’re waiting?”

“No, thank you, Andy. I’m well acquainted with the kind of coffee you make here. It hasn’t gotten any better, has it?”

“Not really.” Andy grinned, showing the gap between his front teeth. Just then the door to Sam’s office opened and a pretty blonde rushed out. Katy recognized her immediately. It was Jessica Clarke, the award-winning syndicated columnist. She was frowning and her face was very red. She hurried past Katy, noticed her notebook, and turned to speak to her.

“If you’re here for a story, you’d better forget it. He almost bit my head off!”

“I’m not here for a story.” Katy smiled sweetly. “I’m just his ex-wife.”

“Ex-wife?”

Katy nodded.

“Well, I can certainly understand why you divorced him. That man is an absolute bear!”

As soon as she left, Andy stood up. “I’ll tell the chief you’re here, Mrs. Ladera. And don’t worry. I’ll calm him down a little before I send you in.”

Andy was gone for a full five minutes, time enough for Katy to come up with a good cover story. She’d wanted to be up-front with Sam, but this wasn’t the time for honesty. If he found out she was here for a scoop on the Video Killer, he’d be sure to explode. Finally the office door opened and Andy motioned to her.

There was a smile on Katy’s face as she passed through the doorway, but she quickly sobered when she caught sight of Sam. He looked awful. Her first instinct was to rush to put her arms around him, but that was crazy. They were divorced, and Sam wouldn’t let her hug him anyway.

“Hello, Sam.”

“Katy. What can I do for you?”

Katy stood, waiting for him to motion toward a chair, but he didn’t, so she sat down anyway. He was as stubborn as always. This was going to be more difficult than she’d thought.

“I’ve got a problem, Sam, and I was hoping you’d help. Billy Goat gave me a new assignment today and—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Sam interrupted her. His voice was sharp and impersonal. Did he really hate her that much?

“If it has anything to do with the Video Killer, you can turn right around and leave.”

“It doesn’t!” Katy felt a telltale blush spread over her cheeks. “It’s a Sunday supplement thing on lady cops. Look, Sam, I know the only reason I got this assignment is because I’m your ex-wife. Billy figured the connection would get me in. I don’t like this any better than you do, but if you’ll let me do a couple of interviews, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Lady cops?”

“Right. Please, Sam? I’ll be really embarrassed if I have to go back and tell Billy that you kicked me out of your office.”

“You’re sure Billy didn’t send you to fish for anything else? Like information about the Video Killer?”

“Oh, Sam!” Katy put on her best injured expression. “You know Billy. He’d never send a woman on an important assignment like that!”

“I guess that’s true.” Sam smiled slightly. “Are you still doing the health section, Katy?”

“Yes, but you’re the only one who knows how difficult that is. I still can’t spell penicillin.”

This time Sam’s smile was fuller. “I always thought the arts were more your style. What happened to that sculpture class you were going to take?”

“The same thing that happened to the painting class. I bought all the supplies and then I chickened out. That reminds me, is all that unused canvas still in the storage locker?”

“It’s still there. Do you want it?”

“No, I just wondered, that’s all. How about the potter’s wheel and the loom?”

“They’re right next to the folk dance costumes and the classical guitar.”

Katy looked up at Sam sheepishly and was relieved to find that he was still smiling.

“There’s ten years of my life in that storage locker, Sam. All the projects I started and didn’t finish.”

“Yep. Just like our marriage.”

“Come on, Sam. I . . .” A lump rose in Katy’s throat and she blinked back tears. This was ridiculous. The last thing she wanted was for Sam to see her crying.

“Sorry, Katy.” Sam was the first to speak. “I guess I just miss you sometimes.”

“I . . . I miss you, too, sometimes.”

Katy blinked hard. The tears were still threatening. This was precisely what she wanted to avoid. Thinking about her marriage with Sam always made her cry, and part of her wished for a reconciliation. She told herself it was impossible. If they hadn’t worked out their problems in ten years, starting over wouldn’t accomplish much. She was better off alone, wasn’t she?

“Well?” Katy stood up and deliberately put a smile on her face. “What do you say, Sam?” Do I get to interview those lady cops?”

“Sure.” Sam stood up, too. “I’ll set up something for you right away if you want to start this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Sam.” They were walking to the door, and without thinking, Katy reached up to hug him. She felt Sam’s surprise and then his arms tightened around her. It felt good. Very good. Katy stepped back quickly before it could feel any better and reminded herself that this was business. Newspaper business.

“Ask Andy to get you settled in one of the interrogation rooms. I’ll see who’s available.”

“Thanks again, Sam.” Katy paused at the open doorway. Then she reached up quickly and touched the side of his face. “You look like Stallone again, Sam. Please get some sleep.”





When Tony turned on Ventura Boulevard, he was whistling. So far, everything was going great. He’d spent an hour in Sam’s office, going over the new murder disc, and he was definitely right about the Hitchcock thing. Last night’s victim, Diana Ellington, was a ringer for Barbara Leigh-Hunt. And the segment had definitely been patterned on Frenzy, right down to the tie that the killer had used to strangle her. The murder disc had been chilling, even more so than Hitchcock’s scene, and in Tony’s opinion, the actual filming had been brilliant. He’d left Sam with the promise to hurry on the list of Hitchcock’s victims, and now he was heading home to enlist Allison’s help. She didn’t know it yet, but she was going to be his research assistant. It would be easy to convince her. She adored Hitchcock movies.

Tony pulled up in a loading zone and rushed into a small shop on Ventura. The sign on the window read PATTI’S POPCORN. Allison was a sucker for popcorn and he’d take her a little gift along with the movies.

“May I help you, sir?”

A pretty brunette was manning the counter. She looked good enough to be a movie star. Most native Californians did. Tony had once heard a theory about that. Their mothers had been the prettiest girls from cities all over the country who had come out here to break into the movies. Naturally, there weren’t enough roles for everyone, and some of the pretty would-be actresses married the handsome boys who had also come out here to break into show business. They’d had pretty babies together. Now the pretty babies had grown into a whole new generation of gorgeous young adults, and that’s why Californians were so good-looking. The whole thing sounded a little like the old story about why firemen wore red suspenders, but this girl certainly seemed to lend credence to the theory.

“I need an assortment of popcorn.” Tony looked at the display case. There were twenty-six varieties. “Uh, I guess your twelve-pack will do.”

“Certainly, sir.” The girl pulled out a carton with twelve dividers. It looked like a giant hat box. “Which flavors would you like?”

“Chocolate, butterscotch, cherry, lemon . . . what’s that blue one?”

“Blueberry, sir. It’s our new flavor of the month.”

“Okay. Throw some of that in. And make up the rest with your favorites, all except the licorice. There’s no way I can eat black popcorn.”

The girl laughed. “I know what you mean. It looks like the stuff we used to pop over the campfire. Would you like this gift wrapped, sir?”

Tony nodded, and watched the girl wrap the whole package in red cellophane and top it with a big red bow. Allison would love it. Then he handed the girl his charge card and hoped Visa hadn’t canceled it yet.

Fifteen minutes later Tony pulled into his driveway and opened the garage door. Allison’s car was parked inside, and that meant she was back from visiting her mother. He got out of his car and didn’t bother to lower the door. He couldn’t spend much time here with Allison. He had to be at the motel in less than an hour to work on the porn movie.

“Hi, honey, I’m home!”

Tony walked into the living room to find Allison sitting on the sofa, watching a talk show on television. She was dressed in a blue dress that looked new to him until he remembered that he’d given it to her for Christmas last year.

“Oh, Tony!” Allison jumped up and raced across the room to hug him. “You had Erik completely fooled with that story about visiting Mom, but I caught on right away. I knew you were planning a surprise for our anniversary. I’m so glad you didn’t forget.”

Tony thought fast. His anniversary? Uh-oh! It was a good thing he’d stopped by to pick up the popcorn.

“Of course I didn’t forget. I’ve got two presents for you this year. Unwrap the big one first.”

Tony grinned as Allison tore the cellophane off the popcorn. She looked inside the box and laughed.

“I love it! What’s that blue kind?”

“The girl said it was blueberry. They’re all labeled. Now open the box, honey. Except I’d better warn you that I have an ulterior motive for this present.”

“Hitchcock films?” Allison’s face lit up in excitement as she read the titles on the DVDs. “This looks like a complete collection. What’s the ulterior motive, darling?”

“One of the theater arts alumni called me a couple of months ago. They’re compiling information about Hitchcock for a project and I promised to make them a list of plot synopses and the names of the actresses who played Hitchcock’s female victims. They sent the DVDs by messenger this morning and, well, I don’t have time to do it. I thought maybe you might . . . ?”

“Of course I will!” Allison drew out The Trouble with Harry and gave Tony a radiant smile. “Do you think we could make copies of these before we give them back? I’ve always wanted a Hitchcock collection, and there are a couple of films here I’ve never seen.”

“That’s your present, Allison. I already arranged it with them. You can keep the DVDs when you’re through. There’s only one hitch. They’re in a real hurry for that list.”

“How much of a hurry?”

“A couple of weeks. What do you say, honey? Can you do it?”

Allison counted the DVDs and then she smiled. “Of course I can do it. I was just sitting here wishing for something to do. It’s the best anniversary present you’ve ever given me, honey. Now go open yours. It’s that little box on the table.”

Tony unwrapped the small package and grinned when he saw what was inside. It was a new lighter, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. He’d lost his last one somewhere between the parking lot and the office, and he hadn’t been able to find it.

“See that little notch? You just hold your cigarette there, and it lights automatically. I thought it would be perfect when you’re working on the computer.”

Tony got out a cigarette and tried it. It worked perfectly. Then he read the inscription and laughed.

“You light up my life? Oh, Allison, that’s terrible!”

“I know.” Allison giggled. “It was the worst pun I could think of. Do you like it?”

“I love it!” Tony swept her into his arms and kissed her. “I just wish I could take the night off so we could go somewhere fancy for dinner, but I have to get back to work. Alan’s uncle won’t cough up a contract until we do some more work on the movie.”

“It’s all right, Tony.” Allison hid her disappointment behind a smile. “Thanks to your present I have something to do. How long can you stay before you have to go back to the office?”

“I’ve got forty minutes, maybe forty-five.”

“Then I know just what we can do to celebrate!”

Allison was about to suggest they hop into bed when she remembered Tony’s failure last night. Her sexy smile faded and she raced to think of an alternative. Tony’s problem last night had been simple exhaustion, she was sure of it, but he wasn’t any more rested today. The last thing she wanted to do was risk another failure.

“You sit here and relax.” Allison dropped a kiss on the tip of Tony’s nose. “I’ll be right back with a surprise.”

It took Allison less than five minutes in the kitchen, but when she came back Tony’s eyes were closed and he was snoring softly. She almost hated to wake him, but she wanted to give him some sort of a celebration before he had to go back to work.

“Tony? Darling?”

Allison spoke softly, but Tony’s eyes opened immediately. He looked startled, then delighted to see her.

“Must’a dozed off. Sorry, honey.”

Allison smiled as she set down the platter she was carrying and let Tony pull her into his arms. After a long, wonderful moment, she pulled free.

“I made your favorite sandwiches. Bunny bread, marshmallow fluff, and chocolate sauce. And Gelson’s found that red cream soda you’re always talking about. They still make it in a couple of bottling plants in the South.”

“Honey, this looks like heaven!” Tony lifted a sandwich and took a big bite. A little of the chocolate sauce dribbled down his chin, but he caught it before it dripped on his T-shirt.

Allison picked up her own sandwich and munched. She’d cheated. Her sandwich was on Bunny Bread so it looked the same from the outside, but it had peanut butter in place of the marshmallow fluff and strawberry jam as a substitute for the chocolate sauce.

It took only a few minutes to finish their sandwiches. Then Tony picked up his bottle of red cream soda and pulled her to her feet.

“There’s an old Southern tradition with drinks like these. You have to finish the last swallow in bed.”

Allison grinned as he led her to the bedroom. “But, Tony, you’ve never even been in the South.”

“Close enough.” Tony turned her around and unzipped her dress. “We live in Southern California.”

Allison’s smile grew wider and wider as Tony undressed her. It reached radiant proportions when he took off his own clothes and joined her in bed. She’d been a silly fool to worry about sex. Tony was about to prove that they didn’t have any problems at all.