Video Kill

23


Sunday, August 9





Erik swam up from the layers of his disjointed dream to see Allison’s face. For a moment he didn’t know where he was, and then he recognized the interior of the room. He was at Tony’s house. On the family room couch.

“Good morning, Erik. How about some breakfast?”

“Uh, that’d be nice, Allison, but you don’t have to put yourself out. Did Tony get home?”

“Yes. He’s upstairs, sleeping. It was already getting light when he came in, so it must have been about five in the morning. He mumbled something about a new scene on your desk and passed out like a rock.”

Allison’s voice shook a little, and Erik sensed trouble. Perhaps she had seen Tony yesterday at the motel. He wasn’t about to open that can of worms first thing in the morning. Tony and Allison would have to work it out themselves.

“So, how about pancakes, Erik? I’ve already mixed up some batter.”

“That sounds great!” Erik smiled at her. “But, really, Allison, are you sure you feel up to it?”

“I’m fine. I already called the hospital, and they’re going to move Mother back to the convalescent center this afternoon. She’s much better. And I like to make pancakes, especially when there’s someone here to eat them.”

A bitter expression crossed Allison’s face, but it was gone in a flash.

“You’ll find fresh towels and everything you need in the guest bathroom.” Allison smiled again. “Breakfast’s in twenty minutes.”

As soon as Allison had left, Erik got up and headed for the guest bathroom. He could use a shower and a shave. Then he’d have breakfast with Allison, stop off at the condo to feed Al, and go straight to the office.

An hour later, pleasantly stuffed with Allison’s blueberry pancakes and plenty of coffee, Erik arrived at his condo. Breakfast with Allison had been a real treat. She’d served his food and poured his coffee, and they’d laughed when the kids from next door had chased their soapy dog, an obvious escapee from an early morning bath, through Allison’s backyard. It certainly beat out the breakfasts at the coffee shops he’d been frequenting for the past sixteen years. How could Tony jeopardize it all for a cheap-looking redhead in a sleazy motel room? If Tony didn’t realize just how lucky he was, maybe it was up to Erik to set him straight.





“Play it again, Sam!”

Sam hit the freeze-frame button, and the third murder disc stopped in its tracks. “I don’t believe you said that, Katy.”

“I don’t, either.” Katy groaned. “Just rewind a little and run it again. And no jokes about Bogey.”

“It’s important?”

“It could be. I didn’t notice it before, but there’s a shot of a telephoto lens in Diana Ellington’s house.”

“You mean here?” Sam stopped the video as a black cylindrical object appeared in the frame.

“Yes. That’s definitely a telephoto lens. What’s it doing in Diana Ellington’s bedroom? She was an actress, not a photographer.”

“Maybe she’s an amateur shutterbug.”

“No, Sam. That’s an expensive lens, and it’s strictly professional. There’s absolutely no reason for her to have it propped up so prominently right there by her bed.”

“So?”

“So it’s out of character, Sam. And completely out of context. I think the Video Killer brought it with him. Check to see if it’s still there in the pictures your men took at the scene.”

Sam unsnapped his briefcase and drew out a bulky file. He flipped through several photographs and looked up at Katy with amazement. “You’re right. There’s no lens.”

“I knew it. Sam. Now why did he put it right there by the bed?”

Sam got up and paced the floor. “A telephoto lens, I just saw one in . . . hold it, Katy! What’s the next disc in the sequence?”

“Christie Jensen’s murder. Rear Window.”

“That’s it!” Sam snapped his fingers. “We’ve got it now, Katy, as long as he’s consistent. That shot of the lens is a segue to the next murder! Remember James Stewart looking out the window with his telephoto lens?”

“Oh, Sam, I hope you’re right. Let’s start from the beginning and go through them. Once we catch on to the kinds of segues he uses, maybe we can predict—”

Sam clamped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t say it, Katy, just in case it jinxes us.”





Allison was quiet as she stacked the dishes in the dishwasher. She didn’t want to wake Tony. She wasn’t sure she could face him today. After the scare with her mother and the way he’d refused to come to the hospital, she wasn’t feeling very friendly toward him. Of course, her mother had rallied and it hadn’t turned out to be the emergency she’d thought it was, but Tony’d had no way of knowing that. And there was no possible excuse for what she’d seen at the Traveler Motel. Not only had he been coming out of the room with that redhead, he’d given her his anniversary lighter. That certainly showed what he thought of their marriage.

A tear slid down Allison’s check as she stacked the last plate in the rack. She’d leave Tony this second if she had a way of paying for her mother’s medical bills. She still loved him. It was useless to deny it. But she just couldn’t live with him any longer.

The container of dishwasher soap felt empty. Allison rattled it just to make sure, and tossed it into the trash. Everything was going wrong today. There was a convenience store only three blocks away, and she decided to walk there. The fresh air might clear her head.

Allison had just come out of the tiny little market when she spotted a familiar car rounding the corner. Tony’s dark green Volvo. He was obviously in a hurry, and she was glad he was gone. At least she wouldn’t have to talk to him now.

There was a note fastened to the refrigerator door when she got home. It said GOTTA RUN—CALL LATER—LOVE YA. Allison pulled it down, crumpled it in her fist, and was about to throw it in the wastebasket when the phone rang. “Hello?” Allison’s voice was trembling a little. She prayed it wasn’t bad news about her mother.

“Allison! I’m so glad I caught you! This is Nina.”

“Hi, Nina.” Allison drew a big breath of relief. It was her agent. “Did you find me a starring role in a major motion picture?”

“Not quite, but I do have a line on something quite interesting. Hold on just a second, Allison.”

As Allison held on she heard papers rattle. Nina’s desk was always a disaster area. It was a wonder she was able to do any business at all.

“Here it is. A very, very dear friend of mine called this morning. He’s doing a project, and I convinced him that you’re just what he needs. He saw that commercial you did eons ago, and he thinks you look like Joan Fontaine. Mind you, his film’s experimental. One of these auteur-type things that probably won’t ever be shown anywhere, but he’s paying scale if you want the job.”

Allison laughed. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’d take anything. What do I have to do?”

“To tell you the truth, I’m not sure. He wants to set up a meeting tonight to discuss it.”

“Fine with me. Where?”

“I’ll try to get him to come to you. That way you’ll have more leverage. How about your house, eight o’clock?”

“That’ll be fine.”

“Good. I’ll call him back right now and tell him you agree. Good luck tonight, kid.”

There was a click and then a dial tone. Nina had hung up. Allison was smiling as she dialed Nina’s number again. Nina had been so excited she hadn’t even mentioned the name of the filmmaker.

After ten minutes of busy signals, Allison gave up. She really didn’t care who the filmmaker was as long as he was willing to pay scale.





Erik had just picked up the papers on his desk when there was a knock at the door. It was a messenger from the studio with their contracts. Alan wanted them signed today, if possible, and that meant he had to call Tony at home.

When Allison answered the phone, she sounded cheerful. Perhaps she’d patched things up with Tony.

“Hi, Allison. The contracts came in from Alan, and we’re supposed to sign them today. Is Tony up yet?”

“Sorry, Erik. He left about a half hour ago, but I’ll tell him if he comes back. Guess what?”

“You guys kiss and make up?”

There was a long pause, and he could hear Allison sigh. “Not a chance, Erik. But I just had a great telephone call from my agent.”

“Your agent?”

“That’s right. I was an actress before I married Tony. I guess I never mentioned it. Well, there’s a part in some kind of experimental film, and it looks like I’ve got it. The producer thinks I look just like Joan Fontaine. He’s coming over to the house to discuss it with me at eight tonight.”

“Congratulations, Allison. That sounds like fun. Have you told Tony?”

“Not yet. I’m going to leave him, Erik. Just as soon as I can. I can’t live with a man who lies to me and keeps a mistress on the side in a sleazy motel room.”

Erik swallowed hard. Allison had seen Tony with the redhead.

“Are you sure you’re not making a mistake, Allison? Maybe Tony has some sort of reasonable explanation.”

“Forget it, Erik. If I ask him, he’ll just lie to me again.”

There was a pause where Erik tried to think of something to say, something that would make everything all right again. For a man who could put great dialogue into other people’s mouths, he was as total failure in real life.

“I don’t know what to say, Allison, except that I’m here if you need me.”

“Thanks, Erik. That means a lot to me. Wish me luck tonight?”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll do just . . .” Erik stopped in midsentence as the full implications of what Allison had told him sunk in. “Uh . . . Allison? Will you do me a favor and not mention to Tony that you’re up for a part in that movie?”

“Why?”

“Well, all the Video Killer’s victims have been actresses and—”

Allison sounded exasperated as she interrupted him. “Oh, Erik, not that again! Tony’s not going to hurt me, even if he is the Video Killer. I’d stake my life on it.”

“That’s exactly what you’ll be doing if you tell him.”

There was a long silence, which Allison broke. “I can’t talk about that now, Erik. I have to run out to see Mother. I’ll call you later.”

Erik was frowning when he hung up. Allison hadn’t promised not to tell Tony, and she probably would if the opportunity presented itself. She refused to believe that she was in danger. He had to protect her, and there was only one way to do it. Tony would come in to sign his contract sometime today, and Erik would be waiting. And he’d stick to Tony like a Siamese twin until the night was over.





Tony glanced at his watch and frowned. He’d been waiting for over an hour. The nurse behind the desk looked bored, and Tony gave her his most endearing smile, the one Allison said could charm the birds down out of the trees.

“Do you think it’ll be much longer, Miss . . . uh . . .” Tony glanced at her plastic nametag, “Miss Woods?”

“It shouldn’t be long now. Dr. Trumbull’s almost never late for his Sunday rounds. There must have been a problem in surgery this morning.”

“Why don’t we save Dr. Trumbull some time when he comes in? I’m here to discuss a patient with him. Erik Nielsen. Could you possibly pull his file so it’s ready?”

“It’s already pulled, Mr. Rocca.” The nurse indicated a stack of files on her desk.

Tony eyed the stack of files and nodded. If he could just get his hands on Erik’s file, he wouldn’t have to wait around for Dr. Trumbull.

The telephone on the desk rang before Tony could come up with a plan. Miss Woods answered immediately.

“Yes, Dr. Trumbull. Of course. I’ll tell Mr. Rocca and reschedule.”

“There’s a problem?” Tony stood up. He was sitting no more than three feet away, and he’d heard her end of the conversation.

“I’m afraid so. That was Dr. Trumbull. He’ll be tied up for at least another hour, and he asked if you’d reschedule your appointment.”

“Of course.” Tony flashed his smile again. He waited until she had checked the doctor’s schedule and given him an appointment for next Wednesday at nine. Then he started coughing.

“Are you all right, Mr. Rocca?” The nurse looked concerned.

“Fine. Just fine.” Tony coughed again, a whole series this time, as he sat back down in the chair. “Could I . . . Please . . . ? Water . . . ?”

“I’ll get it. Just sit right there, and I’ll be right back.”

Tony coughed while the nurse left the room. He coughed all the way to the desk and continued to cough while he slipped Erik’s file into his briefcase. He was still coughing when Miss Woods came back with a paper cup of water. He drank it and let his coughing taper off to a stop.

“Thank you!” Tony cleared his throat noisily and stood up. “I’m fine now. It must be the pollen count today. I understand the ragweed is blooming.”

“That was a moderate to severe reaction, Mr. Rocca.” Miss Woods looked concerned. “Are you seeing an allergist?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve got everything under control. Thank you so much, Miss Woods. You have no idea how much you’ve helped me.”

Miss Woods was smiling as Tony left the reception area. What a nice man. He’d been so gracious about thanking her for her help, and all she’d done was bring him a glass of water.