Obsessed (11 page)

“What time was the performance over?” Detective Davis made another note as he spoke.

“At ten. Then I went with Sarah and her boyfriend for a cup of coffee. We left the Westwood Hamburger Hamlet at eleven- thirty.”

“Why didn’t you take the freeway?”

“It was raining pretty hard, and the radio said the freeway was all backed up. I thought the pass would be less crowded.”

Judy began to feel a little nervous as Detective Davis quizzed Michael. This was beginning to sound like an in terrogation. Surely he didn’t suspect Michael of playing a part in Mary Beth’s death?!

“It took you an hour and a half to get to Studio City?” Detective Davis looked grim.

“Yes, sir. It was bumper to bumper because of the accident.”

“What kind of car was involved in the accident?”

“I don’t know.” Michael sat up a little straighter. “Every thing was cleared away by the time I got to the scene.”

“If it was cleared away, how did you know there’d been an accident?”

“There was glass in the road at the corner of Valley Vista and Sepulveda. I don’t actually know that there was an ac cident. But the traffic was so bad, I assumed there was. And I thought that was where it had happened.”

Judy couldn’t take anymore. Detective Davis was ques tioning Michael like he was some sort of criminal. “If you’re finished interrogating Michael, could I please ask a question?”

“I’m not interrogating him, young lady. I’m just getting the facts. Now, what did you want to know?”

“I was just thinking about the arrow. What if it isn’t a gang symbol?”

Detective Davis raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Couldn’t this be the work of a serial killer? I read a book about serial killers once, and it said they’re just like painters because they like to sign their work. It’s their . . . I’ve forgotten the phrase, but
—”

“Calling card.” Andy spoke up. “There was one serial killer called Sneakers, and he always took the shoes off his victims. And there was another one they called Bad Bart. He left a subway token in his victim’s mouth. But I don’t think this guy’s a serial killer. They generally murder in cycles, and there’s no cycle here.”

Detective Davis frowned. “No cycle?”

“No, sir. In a textbook scenario, the killings are less frequent at the beginning. The first two may be a month or more apart. And then the murders start escalating. The third murder could be in three weeks. And then two, and then one. A serial killer’s like a train, picking up speed. He goes faster and faster until he’s out of control, and then he jumps the rails.”

“What happens then?” Ingrid looked frightened, but she was also fascinated.

“When a serial killer loses control, there’s generally a mass murder. But I told you before, I don’t think this is the work of an ordinary serial killer.”

“Why not?” Michael spoke up.

“Mary Beth was personally targeted. The killer may have wanted to kill her earlier, but he didn’t. He waited until she was alone.”

Detective Davis frowned. “You don’t think that the victims of a serial killer are personally targeted?”

“Not usually. They may look like they are, at first. The victims may have common physical characteristics, like blonde hair, or glasses, or anything like that. Or they may all share a certain profession. Jack the Ripper was a serial killer who murdered only prostitutes. But the traditional se rial killer isn’t after anyone specific person. If his internal clock says it’s time to kill, and the victim he’s chosen isn’t available, he finds another vic
tim that fits his profile.”

Detective Davis was clearly impressed. He stared at Andy and blinked. “How do you know all this?”

“I read a lot, sir. And I’d like to go into police work someday.”

Judy glanced at Andy in surprise. Why didn’t he tell De tective Davis that his uncle was
on the police force? But Andy just smiled and didn’t say anything at all about his uncle.

“All right.” Detective Davis nodded, then closed his note book and stood up. “Call me if you think of anything im portant. And let’s all hope we don’t have to meet like this again.”

Judy waited until Mr. Calloway had left to walk Detec tive Davis to his car. Then she turned to Andy. “Why didn’t you tell him about your uncle?”

“My uncle said not to mention him. He’s going to keep an eye on things unofficially. And he said that so far, De tective Davis is doing a good job.”

“Oh, sure.” Linda gave a worried sigh. “He hasn’t caught the killer yet, has he?”

Andy shrugged. “These things take time. Don’t worry, Linda. They’ll catch him eventually.”

“It better be sooner than that!” Linda looked very fright ened. “I’m the only one left!”

It was clear that Andy wanted to say something. He looked around at the group, and then he seemed to make up his mind. “Can I trust you all to keep your mouths shut? My uncle could get in big trouble if you tell anyone else, okay?”

“Sure.” Michael nodded. “You can trust us, Andy.”

“You’re perfectly safe, Linda. They’ve got an undercover tail on you.”

“They do?” Linda looked slightly relieved. “Can I tell my parents?”

“No. The killer might be someone you know. And if somebody slips up and mentions it to the wrong person, the killer might hear about it. They want to catch him if he follows you.”

Linda nodded. “Thanks for telling me, Andy. I won’t worry quite so much now. But I still won’t go anywhere alone.”

“That’s fine. It might tip off the killer if you weren’t scared, so keep right on acting nervous, okay?”

“That’s easy.”

Linda gave a little laugh, and everyone else joined in. Then Mr. Calloway walked back in, and they all fell silent. He looked very serious.

“Okay, guys. I’ve thought it over, and I think it would be safer if I closed down Covers until this whole thing is over.”

“But . . . why?” Judy was puzzled.

“Three of my performers have been murdered, that’s why!” Mr. Calloway looked very upset. “We can’t keep giv ing performances every night. It’s dangerous.”

Carla sighed. “I think you’re making a mistake, Mr. Cal loway. It’s like locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen. The killer already knows where we live. And he killed Mary Beth at home, on a night when we were dark. Closing down Covers won’t change that.”

“Carla’s right.” Andy spoke up. “Nobody’s been mur dered around here. If the killer’s smart, he knows that Cov ers is staked out every night. This might be the only place where we’re all safe.”

“I don’t know.” Mr. Calloway looked very uneasy. “Is it fair to take a chance with your lives? I feel responsible for all of you.”

Linda’s face was still white, but she sat up a little straighter. “I’m the next target, Mr. Calloway. And I don’t think you should close down. We’ll just have to be extra careful, that’s all.”

That was the cue for everyone to chime in. No one wanted Covers to close down. Even though Mr. Calloway officially owned the club, they all thought of it as theirs. It was Michael and Linda’s chance to be seen on stage, and Judy’s opportunity to work as a stage manager. Covers was a place where Carla could practice running a small business, and where Andy could try out new recipes in the kitchen. Vera wanted to own a bar someday, and Covers was her opportunity to practice mixing drinks, ordering supplies, and getting along with the customers. Even Berto and In grid and Nita had a stake in the club. While it was true that they only took orders and served food, it was a lot more fun than working in an ordinary restaurant.

“Okay, okay.” Mr. Calloway held up his hands for silence. “I’ll keep Covers open for now. But nobody goes anywhere without a cell phone, and we’ll continue the car pool.”

There were smiles all around, and Mr. Calloway turned to Andy. “You’re the expert here, Andy. Is there anything else we should be doing?”

“We could check the guest register and try to find some one who might have a motive. I realize that Detective Davis went over it already, but we know our audience. Maybe we can spot something he missed.”

“Okay.” Mr. Calloway motioned to Carla to get the reg ister. Then he turned back to the rest of them. “Are you absolutely sure you want to give a performance tonight?”

One by one, they nodded. And then Michael spoke up. “The show goes on, Mr. Calloway. And it’s going to be the best show we’ve ever done. There’s no way some sicko is going to close us down!”

Judy gave a satisfied sigh as she brought up the lights for the last act. Michael was closing the show tonight, sing ing his newest song. She’d tried a new effect tonight, soft lighting on his guitar, and a full spot on his face. Since she’d used only two lights and the rest of the stage was dark, Michael seemed to be floating in space, anchored only by the stool and his guitar.

Judy sighed again. Michael was so handsome. His dark wavy hair gleamed under the lights and his deep, intense eyes glowed with inner strength. His skin was tanned almost bronze by the summer sun and he was dressed in a soft blue shirt and jeans. He had a strong body, and she could see the muscles in his arms ripple as he strummed his gui tar. His fingers were sensitive, stroking and caressing the strings, and she knew they would be just as sensitive touch ing her neck, her face, and her . . .

Time to dim the spot. Judy reached out and brought the spot down gradually as Michael reached the last note of the song. There was a burst of thunderous applause and then a rhythmic clapping. An encore. They always wanted an encore. It would be another love song. Michael liked to end the evening on a mellow note.

Judy brought up the spot again, and the audience was instantly silent. Michael smiled at them, and Judy heard their collective gasp. Michael’s smile was like sunlight on a cloudy day, glorious and radiant, stretching across his face. It turned the brooding, moody musician into a bright, shining beacon of radiant talent.

The song started, one of Judy’s favorites, and another original. She wasn’t sure, since Michael had never men tioned it, but she thought perhaps he’d written it for her. It was about his childhood friend, a girl who’d climbed trees and played ball with him. The last verse was wonderful, all about how he’d suddenly realized that she had grown up. And how foolish he’d been not to realize that she was right there all the while.

Judy slipped into her favorite daydream, the one she had every time Michael sang this song. Any moment now, Mi chael would turn to see her in the shadows. And he’d smile at her and tell everyone he’d written the song just for her.

“It’s a full house tonight.”

A soft voice brought Judy out of her reverie, and she turned to see Carla standing beside her. Even though she was upset at having her daydream interrupted, Judy man aged a nod. Carla didn’t know that she had intruded on her favorite fantasy.

“Did he write that song for Mary Beth?”

“No. He wrote it last summer. As far as I know, he didn’t write any songs for Mary Beth.”

“Really?” Carla raised her eyebrows. “I thought Michael wrote a song for every girl he dated.”

Carla looked amused, and Judy couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right. He usually does. But Michael didn’t really date Mary Beth. They never went anywhere together.”

“Mary Beth thought they were dating. She told me all those nights at her house counted as dates. She even bragged that she was going to win the contest.”

“Mary Beth bragged to you, too?” Linda joined them just in time to hear Carla’s comment.

“She bragged to everyone. But she was just using Mi chael. She wasn’t really serious about him as a person.”

“How do you know that?” Judy was puzzled.

“The first batch of cell phone bills came in this morning. Mary Beth called her old boyfriend’s apartment every night. I checked it out.”

“But her parents made her break up with him!” Linda exclaimed. “At least that’s what she told us.”

Carla nodded. “Maybe that’s why she called him from her cell phone. She didn’t want his number to show up on her parents’ phone bill.”

“Pretty sneaky.” Judy was clearly impressed. “Mary Beth was playing both sides of the fence. She wanted Michael so she’d win the contest, but she also wanted to hang onto her old boyfriend. What a bitch!”

Both Carla and Linda looked shocked, and Judy quickly tried to explain. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. She was a bitch. And you’d say it, too, if she were still alive . . . wouldn’t you?”

“I would,” Carla agreed. “She was taking advantage of Michael.”

Linda looked hesitant at first, but then she nodded. “You’re right. She was a louse. Michael’s a very nice guy, and I hope everybody’s going to forget all about this contest thing.”

“But they’re not.” Carla gave an unhappy sigh. “The next contestant’s already in line and chomping at the bit.”

“Who?” Judy and Linda both spoke at once as they turned to Carla in surprise.

“Ingrid. Michael’s taking her home tonight.”

“But why is he taking Ingrid home?” Linda looked puzzled. “She was supposed to ride with Andy. It’s on the schedule.”

Carla nodded. “I know, but she switched. Her church is sponsoring a twenty-four hour bowling tournament to raise funds for their new building. She’s scheduled to bowl at midnight, and I heard her ask Michael to be a member of her team.”