The trick would be to identify the killer from this list of strangers. How would she do that? She couldn't call and ask them how disappointed they were not to have the movie rights. Nor could she ask to what lengths they would be willing to go to acquire the rights from Celestial Productions. Would they kill for it? Definitely a direct approach, but probably not a productive one. She needed to consult with someone who knew the industry and its players.
Nicole checked her watch. It was minutes away from 11:00
A.M.
She didn't want to discuss this with Malcolm while he was at work. He was very busy and may not have a full hour to spare for lunch. She should wait until he got home and could give her his undivided attention. But impatience gnawed at her. Who could she talk to in the meantime?
Nicole wondered if Joyce knew any of the names on the list. She dialed the woman's phone number from memory. Joyce picked up the call on the third ring. “Hello?”
Nicole was pleasantly surprised to hear Joyce sounding more alert. The few times she'd seen the other woman since Tyrone's funeral, Joyce had been listless and distracted.
“Hi, Joyce. It's Nicky.” Nicole shifted forward on the sofa to lay the list on Malcolm's coffee table. “What are you up to?”
“I'm just tidying up some things.” Joyce's voice lost some of its enthusiasm.
“Can you use a break?” Nicole asked, thinking perhaps they could both benefit from her visit. She could get some information, and Joyce would have a distraction.
Apparently, Joyce agreed. “You know, I think I could. Do you want to come over?”
“Yes, if you have the time. I wanted to ask if you recognized any of the people on the list of companies that bid for the
InterDimensions
movie rights.”
“Sure, I'll take a look. But why do you want to know that?”
Nicole hesitated but decided to prepare Joyce before her visit. “I think Ty's death might have something to do with the movie project.” Nicole heard Joyce's indrawn breath.
“I'll be waiting for you,” the other woman said.
“I'll leave right now.”
It was a short drive to the house Joyce had shared with Tyrone. On the way over, Nicole reviewed the questions she would ask about the people on Denise's list. Lost in thought, she almost missed the final turn onto Joyce's street.
Joyce opened the door to let Nicole in.
“Hi. I'm sorry my call upset you.” Nicole crossed the threshold and stepped aside so Joyce could lock them in.
“Don't worry about it. I'm getting better. I don't feel quite as weepy as I used to.” Still, Joyce's smile didn't make it to her eyes. She led the way into the living room and gestured to Nicole to choose a seat. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I'd love a glass of water.”
“Sure. I'll be right back.” Nicole listened as Joyce's footsteps faded toward the kitchen.
She gazed around the room, surprised and pleased by the changes she saw. The drapes were drawn back, allowing strong, natural light to penetrate the white sheers beneath. The room was tidier and felt as though it had been aired out. The blankets and pillows were still in evidence but were folded and neatly stacked aside. Nicole felt a twinge of empathy. Some adjustments, such as sleeping alone in a bed full of memories, took longer.
Nicole was smiling at the
Star Wars
storm troopers scaling the drapes when Joyce returned with coasters and two glasses of ice water.
“I'm very curious about this list you were telling me about. The police seem to have stalled on the investigation since they can't find any concrete evidence against Mal and me.”
Nicole looked up. “They still think you're a suspect?”
“It seems that way. Every now and then they call to ask me strange follow-up questions like, âHave you read the
InterDimensions
books?'”
Cringing inside, Nicole forced herself to hold Joyce's gaze. “I told the police I think there may be a link between my books and Ty's murder.”
Joyce froze with the glass of water at her lips. She slowly lowered her arm. “You think Ty's murderer is an
InterDimensions
fan?”
Nicole nodded. “Did Mal tell you about the letter he found in Ty's desk?”
“Yes, he did.” Joyce's tone was subdued. “I wish I had asked Ty more about the letter when he first told me about it, but he believed he'd received it by mistake.”
“Did Mal tell you I've received similar messages?”
Joyce's dark-brown eyes grew to the size of saucers. “No.”
“The messages I've received are virtually identical to the letter Mal found in Ty's desk. But we couldn't identify a connection until the recent break-in at my apartment.”
“Wait. Someone broke into your apartment?” Joyce's voice rose several octaves.
“Yes.” Nicole paused to arrange her thoughts. “I'm going too fast. Let me start from the beginning.”
Nicole described the phone calls and letters she'd received, including the note that had been slipped under her door. She admitted at first she'd thought the calls were misdials. She explained about reporting the letters to the police, knowing they wouldn't be able to do anything other than start a file. Still, she explained to Joyce, she'd kept copies of all the letters. Nicole told her everything she could think of, bringing her up-to-date with the vandalism in her apartment. She deliberately left out her panic at the trail this morning. She thought perhaps stress was making her paranoid.
“The message the stalker left in my apartment included a quote from one of my books,” Nicole concluded.
Joyce leaned forward. “What quote?”
“One of Ambassador Ore's lines from book two: âTime is a luxury, but not for you.'”
Joyce's eyes were troubled. “I can only imagine how frightened you must have been.”
Nicole shook her head. “This is a frightening time for all of us.”
Joyce turned her attention to the list of independent production companies Nicole had given her. “I've read about a couple of these producers in Ty's industry magazines.”
“You read the industry magazines?”
“I'm really into movies. I enjoy reading the behind-the-scenes stuffâwho's planning what, what projects are coming in over budget, and why. That kind of thing.”
Nicole nodded her understanding. She'd felt the same way when she and Malcolm had been married. She still watched the entertainment programs and read the trade magazines that gave glimpses into the industry's backstage happenings. She shook off the nostalgia as Joyce's attention returned to the list.
“I've met most of these people at events Ty, Mal, and I attendedâtrade shows and stuff,” Joyce continued.
“What can you tell me about them?”
“I don't know any of these people well, but they seemed okay to me.” Joyce looked up at Nicole. “What sort of things are you looking for?”
“I'm not really certain.” Nicole finished her glass of water. She allowed her mind to wander as she created a character profileâsimilar to the ones she wrote for her fictional charactersâthat fit the role. “The kind of person who would threaten people anonymously. A non-confrontational personality. Someone who exhibited a potential for violent behavior. Someone who would do anything to win.”
Joyce frowned as though trying to dig deeper into her memories. “I can't really see any of these people doing those things. Although, as I said, I don't know them very well. The only one I'm sort of familiar with is Omar Carter, and that's only from what Ty and Mal have told me.”
Nicole remembered the nervousness she had experienced when Omar had appeared unexpectedly before her at the mall. “What have they told you?”
“Ty, Mal, and Omar used to work for Leo.”
Nicole felt her lips part in surprise. Why hadn't Malcolm mentioned that? “That must have been interesting.”
Joyce smiled. “âInteresting' is one way of putting it. Omar comes from a very wealthy family whose connections were often very helpful. He liked to name-drop. That's one of his many habits that would drive Ty and Mal nuts. Another one was taking credit for work he didn't do.”
Nicole shook her head as she imagined Malcolm's reaction to that. She knew she would feel the same way. “I can see where that would be a problem.”
“So can I. When the guys were ready to go out on their own, Omar wanted to join them. As I said, he comes from money and was willing to bring some of that money with him. But the guys knew they wouldn't be able to work with Omar, so they said no.”
Nicole was proud of Malcolm and Tyrone for making what must have been a difficult decision. She was certain they could have used the extra capital, but they hadn't been willing to compromise themselves for it.
“That must have come as a surprise to Omar.” Nicole leaned forward to place her empty glass on a coaster.
“Yes, it did.” Joyce chuckled. “For months, he kept trying to change their minds, but the guys wouldn't budge. Finally, Omar decided to start his own company.”
“How did Mal and Ty feel about the competition?”
Joyce frowned. “At first they didn't care. They were very busy building their own company. But then Omar started going after the same projects they were bidding on. That's when they started paying attention.”
A cold feeling grew in Nicole's gut. She remembered Omar introducing himself outside her apartment and badgering her about the
InterDimensions
movie rights. She also thought about the conversation Malcolm had had with Omar at his fitness club. Her encounter at the mall with the rival producer took on another dimension. “How did Omar find out about the projects?”
Joyce shook her head. “He has amazing contacts. I know he's very friendly with the
Silver Screen Preview
reporter Nathan Rutherford. I think he gets some of his information from Nathan. They seem to be using each other.”
“Why do you think that?”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “I've met Nathan. I can't believe he has any real friends. He wants to start his own publication, and he's hoping Omar will bankroll him.”
Nicole smiled. “Is this all conjecture, or are you basing your speculation on hearsay?”
Joyce chuckled again. “Some of it is conjecture, but some of it I've heard myself. Nathan told the guys and me that he doesn't want to be a reporter all of his life. He told us he wanted to start his own magazine publishing company.”
Nicole nodded, understanding Joyce's reasoning better. But Nathan didn't concern her right now; Omar did. “So would you describe Omar as obsessively competitive?”
Joyce seemed to consider the question and her answer. Nicole didn't rush her. She didn't want an easy answer; she wanted a truthful one.
“Yes, I think I would,” Joyce said. “But he seems to wait for other people to do the research and determine the profit margin. Then, if the profits are attractive enough, he'll put in a bid. And with his family's money, he can afford to outbid most people.”
It was Nicole's turn to be quiet as she considered Joyce's words in relation to her theory about the movie project. She was beginning to doubt her idea had substance. Nicole found it hard to believe another producer would embark on a campaign of terror to obtain the
InterDimensions
movie rights. She looked around Joyce's living room, taking in Tyrone's sci-fi accents.
Star Wars. Aliens. The Terminator.
Those were blockbuster movies. In comparison, a movie based on her book would not have nearly as much of a draw.
“The
InterDimensions
project is the only thing I could see connecting Mal, Ty, and me,” Nicole mused. “I was sure it was the reason Ty received the letter, Mal received the phone call, and my apartment was trashed.”
“Mal got a phone call?” Joyce sounded startled. “He didn't tell me. What did the caller say?”
“The message is always basically the same whether it's in a letter or in a phone call: âLeave my family alone.' That's how we knew the calls and the letters were from the same person.”
“Who is the family this person keeps referring to?” Frustration coated Joyce's words.
Nicole shrugged a shoulder. “I don't know. It might be some kind of code.”
The women sat in a long, pensive silence. Nicole felt a tension headache coming on.
Joyce broke the silence with a whisper. “I don't think Omar killed my Tyrone. I don't think he's a murderer.” She smiled fleetingly. “He may inspire violence, but I don't think he would kill anyone.”
“I guess I agree with you. He doesn't sound like he's unstable. But now I'm stumped. Why would anyone kill for the movie rights to
InterDimensions
? It's not a guaranteed success. I don't have the sales figures of Stephen King or Anne Rice or John Grisham. The book didn't inspire a bidding frenzy.”