Video Kill

22


There was no way that Katy could relax. She paced the floor of her apartment, listening to the recording she’d made of her conversation with Tony. There was no doubt that he’d incriminated himself, but what should she do about it? A responsible citizen would notify the police immediately, but she was a reporter first and a responsible citizen second. At least she’d always thought of herself that way.

She’d already sketched out her story, and she knew she’d win every award in the book. But how would Sam feel, reading her words in the morning edition? He’d be furious at the way she duped him, and it was doubtful he’d ever speak to her again. Everything boiled down to a question of priorities. Which was more important? Her career? Or Sam?

Suddenly Katy was struck with a sense of déjà vu. She’d faced this same decision right before she’d left Sam. Back then she’d chosen her career. Could she honestly say she was happy with her choice?

Katy looked around her small, cramped apartment and sighed. She’d have the money for a bigger place when her promotion came through, but that wouldn’t change the way she felt when she came home and there was no one to greet her. Living alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and she was willing to bet that the other divorced women in her therapy group felt exactly the same way about it. Oh, they all talked about how nice it was not to have to fix dinner and pick up their husbands’ clothes, but Katy didn’t believe a word of it. After ten solid months of coming home to an empty apartment, she knew she would have welcomed the chance to pick up Sam’s clothes and put the toilet seat down before she used it.

Why was she so lonely? Katy blinked hard as tears came to her eyes. She had plenty of friends, other single career-minded women, and they went out to dinner at least once a week. Of course they split the tab six ways and drove home by themselves, but they all claimed that they were perfectly content without men. Katy knew better. She still missed Sam’s jokes over dinner, the way he knew which wine to order and just how much to tip the valet parker and the waiter. Going out with the girls wasn’t at all like going out with Sam. Especially afterward.

Katy glanced at the calendar and frowned. Tonight was her therapy group, but she’d already decided to miss it again. She was tired of the soul-searching they did and all the problems they couldn’t solve. Sex and sexism was all they seemed to discuss. They didn’t get enough of the first and too much of the second. It was a waste of time searching for answers with other women who were as screwed up as she was. The blind couldn’t lead the blind, and that was precisely what they were trying to do.

Her head hurt, and Katy reached for the aspirin bottle before she remembered that she’d taken three less than an hour ago. This was a tension headache, and the sooner she solved her dilemma, the sooner her headache would leave. So which was more important? Her career? Or Sam? It was time for an honest decision.

Katy tried to remember all the things that had bugged her about her marriage. Sam’s habit of falling asleep while she was trying to talk to him in bed. The mess he left in the kitchen when he made a snack. The way he left the little twist tie off the bread wrapper so the bread dried out. The wet towels he left on the bathroom floor. The way he always got specks of toothpaste on the mirror when he brushed his teeth. Suddenly all that didn’t seem as serious as it had before.

To be fair, Katy considered the positive side. Sam’s surprise gifts, things he picked up on a whim because he knew she’d like them. The way he hugged her sometimes, for no reason at all. The umbrella he stored in the trunk of the car so she wouldn’t get wet if it rained. The decorative nail he hung by the front door for the car keys she was always losing. And the warm comfort of cuddling next to him in the dark of the night.

Katy jumped to her feet and gathered up her notes. She’d let all those bitter women in her therapy group talk her into values that weren’t hers, like the red convertible and the herbal tea. And leaving Sam. Her career was important, she’d never deny that. But no career, no matter how prestigious it might be, was worth the loss of her husband. Katy knew she’d be the biggest fool in the world if she didn’t set things straight while there was still time.

She found her car keys under the sofa and grabbed her purse. She’d reached a decision, and this time she knew she was right. As she got into her car and started the engine, suddenly she realized that her headache was completely gone.





Sam put down the phone and checked another name off his list. He’d spent the whole afternoon calling actresses, warning them to take precautions. Tony had been right. There were a surprising number of actresses who could double for the remaining Hitchcock victims, and he still had hundreds of calls to make. He was about to go into the kitchen to rummage for something to eat when the telephone he’d just put back in the cradle started to ring. It was Katy.

“Oh, Sam! I’ve been trying to reach you for fifteen minutes. I’ve got to see you right away!”

“Okay, Katy. Come on over.”

There was a second’s pause, and then Katy spoke again.

“No, Sam. You don’t understand at all. I’m here already, at the outside door. Is it all right if I come up?”

“Of course it is.” Sam looked puzzled. “Why didn’t you just use your key?”

“Well.” Katy hesitated. “It just didn’t seem right, that’s all. I mean, you might have had company or something.”

Sam chuckled a little. “You were afraid you’d unlock the door and run into six or seven gorgeous women in various stages of undress?”

“Something like that. I’ll be up in a flash, Sam. This is really important.”

No more than two minutes later Sam’s doorbell rang. He opened it, and Katy rushed in. She looked as if she’d been crying.

“It took a lot of nerve for me to come here and say what I’m going to say.”

“Katy. What’s wrong?” Sam moved to take her into his arms, but she pulled back.

“Don’t interrupt me, Sam. And don’t touch me, either. If you kiss me or hug me or anything like that, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Okay.” Sam shrugged. “Go ahead, Katy.”

Katy took a deep breath and faced him squarely. Then she rattled off the speech she’d thought out in the car.

“I’m a louse, Sam. I’m working on the Video Killer story, just like you suspected at first. But I’m not going to file my story, ever. I decided my self-respect is more important than my career, but that doesn’t change what I’ve done. I came back into your life under false pretenses. And I lied to you. And I copied your murder discs. You trusted me and I, I let you down. It’s that simple. And I came to say I’m really sorry, Sam.”

“Oh, Katy—”

“Not now!” Katy interrupted him. “I’m not finished yet. And I also want you to know that I’ve decided I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left you and I’d like to come back, but you probably won’t want me after what I just—”

“Shut up, Katy. Of course I want you back.”

Sam pulled her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly she didn’t have time to finish her prepared speech. By the time he let her go, she’d forgotten most of it.

“But, Sam, I bootlegged your murder discs.”

“I know. I was hoping you would. I figured you might spot a clue I missed. That’s why I left them out in the open where you’d be sure to see them.”

“Sam.” Katy’s eyes began to glisten. “You’re as big a louse as I am!”

“True. I guess we deserve each other. Did you find any clues on the murder discs, Katy?”

“Not on the discs themselves, but did you know that a Hollywood writing team is doing a screenplay about the Video Killer? And their script exactly parallels the murders! Now, how could they know about the murders in such detail unless . . .”

“. . . one of them was the murderer.” Sam finished the sentence for her.

“Yes! That’s exactly what I figured. So I went to their office this afternoon, and one of the guys had a list of Hitchcock victims on his desk!” Katy took out the list and placed it on the coffee table. “And he definitely incriminated himself while we were talking.” She plunked her mini-recorder on top of the list. “See this, Sam? I recorded the entire conversation! I’m almost positive that the Video Killer is . . .”

“. . . Tony Rocca, right?” Sam picked up the recorder and grinned at her.

“How did you know?”

“Because he made the list for me. And because I showed him the murder discs. Tony Rocca’s an old friend who’s been working on the investigation with me. I gave him permission to use the material on the murder discs as long as he didn’t tell anyone where he got it.”

“Damn!” Katy shook her head. “All that work and I wound up with nothing.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Let’s go over your notes together. I’ll get us a glass of wine.”

Katy sighed as Sam went into the kitchen to pour the wine. Naturally she was disappointed that she hadn’t identified the Video Killer, but somehow it didn’t matter quite so much as she’d thought it would. She imagined her Pulitzer flying out the window, and she found she really didn’t give a damn as long as Sam wanted her back.





Tony saved his file on the computer and glanced at the clock on his office wall. It was either eleven-twenty at night or five minutes to four in the morning. He checked his watch to be sure. Eleven-twenty. He could finish up The 39 Steps segment tonight, if he could just remember whether Daniele Renee had been faceup or facedown on the bed. Sam was probably awake. He’d call just to make sure.

Sam answered on the second ring. He sounded in surprisingly good spirits. “Can you drop by on your way home, Archer? There’s someone here I’d like you to meet.”

“This late?”

“I’ll be up for a couple more hours. Of course, if you’re too tired . . .”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve got another couple minutes of work here, and then I’ll come right over.”

It was a few minutes past midnight as Tony drove through Hollywood. The streets were practically deserted. Since this was a Saturday night and the nightclubs and bars didn’t close until late, this area was usually jammed with people.

The Video Killer. The moment Tony thought of it, he knew he was right. Technically, it was Sunday, and everyone was staying in, behind locked doors. Tony couldn’t blame them. Most of the girls in this area were struggling young actresses, and they knew they were targets for the Video Killer. Still it was eerier to drive past the clubs and the comedy houses and see no lines of people outside, waiting in line to get in.

Because of the nonexistent traffic, Tony arrived at Sam’s high-rise much sooner than he’d expected. Sam buzzed him right up.

“Nice place, Sam.” Tony nodded when Sam answered the door. “Westwood. Very plush. Do you think I’m dressed for it?”

Sam glanced at Tony’s T-shirt and grinned. Tony was wearing a bright pink one with Day-Glo green letters that said MY OTHER SHIRT HAS A DESIGNER LABEL.

“You’ll do. Come in, Tony.”

Tony stepped into the living room and stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of the woman on the couch.

“Karen Daniels?”

“Not exactly. This is my wife, Katy Brannigan.”

Tony started at Katy. “But, I thought, didn’t you say you worked for Equitable Management?”

“I lied.” Katy shrugged. “I’m a reporter, and it was the only way I could get an interview with you.”

It took a while to explain. Tony sat on the couch, sipping the wine that Sam had brought him, and just shook his head in disbelief that Katy told him all about her suspicions, the copy of the partial screenplay she’d received from her friend at Cinescope, the Hitchcock victim list she’d snatched while Tony was getting her a glass of water, and how she’d thought Tony had incriminated himself on her concealed voice tape recorder.

“Wait a minute.” Tony frowned. “You actually thought I was the Video Killer!?”

“I was sure of it. It made a lot of sense at the time.”

Sam stepped in. Tony looked really confused.

“When she came here tonight with what she thought was a closed case, I explained why you knew about the murder discs. You can understand why Katy thought you were guilty, can’t you? She had a whole pile of circumstantial evidence and everything pointed directly to you.”

“Jesus, Sam! I’m glad somebody knows the truth!”

Tony shook his head. “Now, I’ve only got one question for Katy.”

“Yes?” Katy leaned closer. “What is it, Tony?”

“Now that you’re not Karen Daniels anymore, does that mean you won’t fix the loose carpeting in my office doorway?”