Video Kill (15 page)

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.

13

 

Christie Jensen put on her very best smile as she spotted Mr. Brother walking up to the ticket booth. This afternoon he was dressed in blue denim, and the effect was wonderful. He looked sporty and casual, but elegant just the same. His jacket was stylishly cut and matched his pants perfectly, not like the new-looking jackets and old faded jeans most men wore. His shirt was a muted blue, and Christie realized she'd seen this particular outfit before, probably in the window of one of the exclusive men's shops.

“Hi, Mr. Brother. I didn't expect to see you today. We're showing reruns.”

“I noticed that, Christie. What happened to the
R
's in
Rear Window
?”

Mr. Brother smiled and gestured toward the marquee. The big plastic letters spelled out PEAP WINDOW—HITCHCOCK.

“Oh, that.” Christie looked apologetic. “We have a lot of trouble with the letters, Mr. Brother. They break. I heard Steve say he doesn't have a single good
R
left. They've all turned into
P
's.”

“Then you had better not screen
Rope
until you buy new letters. Everyone will think it's a film about the Catholic Church.”

It took Christie a second, but she got it. She laughed and Mr. Brother smiled. Joking with him made her heart do little flip-flops under her new red sweater. Would today be the day he finally asked her for a date? She crossed the fingers of one hand and just as quickly uncrossed them again when she realized it was a ridiculously childish gesture. Mr. Brother always threw her completely off-balance, unlike the other men she dated.

As Mr. Brother took out his wallet to pay for his ticket, Christie noticed the label on the inside of his jacket. It had perfectly embroidered initials for Dolce & Gabbana. Christie had priced a shirt for her father last Christmas, but it had been much more than she could afford. She'd ended up with the usual bottle of aftershave lotion instead.

Mr. Brother slipped a five-dollar bill through the glass cutout, and Christie's fingers brushed his accidentally as she took the money. She jerked back and a blush stained her cheeks. What if Mr. Brother thought she'd done that on purpose, but he didn't seem to have noticed. At least he was still smiling. Her hands shook slightly as she punched up the sale on the computer and the ticket printed out.

“Here's your change, Mr. Brother.” Christie pushed a dollar and two quarters back through the cutout, followed by the computerized ticket. “Enjoy the movie. Everyone says it's wonderful. Have you seen
Rear Window
before?”

At first Christie thought Mr. Brother wasn't going to answer. He had already turned away toward the entrance, but he took a step back when he saw that there was no one in line behind him.

“I've seen it many times. What do you think of it, Christie?”

It was her chance! The chance she'd been waiting for! Christie was so nervous, she was almost tongue-tied.

“Well, to be completely honest, I haven't seen it yet. I have to stay in the booth until after the feature starts, and then I'm supposed to help out at the concession counter. Do you think I should see it?”

“Definitely. It's an interesting piece of work if you ignore the moral implications.”

Christie nodded. She didn't have the foggiest idea what Mr. Brother was talking about, but at least he was talking. And to her!

“It sounds wonderful, Mr. Brother.”

“Wonderful? Not quite the word I'd use, Christie. Psychologically revealing, perhaps. Just remember that what Stewart sees is a projection of his own desires. And he never becomes conscious of the connection between what he sees and his personal life. He remains completely unaware of the parallel.”

Mr. Brother stopped. He seemed to be waiting for a reply. Christie knew she had to say something. But what?

“I, uh, I'll be sure to watch for the parallel.” Christie stared at him in awe. “Are you a movie critic, Mr. Brother?”

The question had popped out before Christie could stop herself. Why had she asked a stupid thing like that? Now Mr. Brother had stopped smiling.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Brother. I didn't mean to be personal. It's just that you seem so, so knowledgeable.”

Christie sighed in relief as Mr. Brother smiled again. She'd almost blown her chances to smithereens. He obviously didn't like questions that were the least bit personal.

“Thank you, Christie. I'm not a movie critic, although it's true that I'm knowledgeable about film. I've made a detailed study of Hitchcock's work.”

Christie noticed that Mr. Brother's expression changed as he talked to her. She could see his eyes narrow and begin to gleam with excitement. What had she done? If she knew, she'd do it again.

“Christie?” Mr. Brother hesitated slightly. “Could you turn your face slightly to the left? That's it!”

“What is it, Mr. Brother?” He was staring at her so intently, Christie felt her palms grow damp.

“I hadn't noticed before, but you bear an uncanny resemblance to Irene Winston, the victim in
Rear Window
. Are you an aspiring actress?”

Christie felt a blush rise to her cheeks. For the first time Mr. Brother was actually looking at her, studying her with obvious interest. She had kept the secret from her parents, but she'd been taking acting classes for almost a year now. Her mother and father disapproved of actresses, so naturally Christie hadn't mentioned the small part in the popcorn commercial she'd done. She'd almost died last week when her father had seen the spot on television and commented that the girl looked just like her.

“Well, yes.” Christie did her best to look dedicated. “I know there are thousands of girls who want to be actresses, but I still have my dreams.”

“Excellent! I have something to discuss with you, Christie. Are you working tonight?”

“Uh, no. Tonight's my night off.”

Christie regrouped hastily. She was slated to work, but she could always call in sick or something.

“Is there somewhere we could meet?” Mr. Brother gave her a smile that melted the last of Christie's natural reserve. “At eight-thirty tonight?”

“Oh, yes. I'll give you my address.”

Christie could barely contain her excitement as she printed her address carefully on the back of an old ticket stub and handed it to him. Her family was going to a cousin's wedding in San Diego tonight, and since it was a Sunday night, they'd been reluctant to leave her alone. Her father had made her promise to lock all the doors and windows, and he'd even given her the money to take a taxi home from work. Normally, Christie would have taken the bus and pocketed the extra money, but all the girls in her acting class had been nervous about the Video Killer, and they'd made Christie nervous, too. She was doubly glad she had a date with Mr. Brother tonight. At least she wouldn't be alone.

“Well, I see you have more customers coming.” Mr. Brother glanced around to see three ladies approaching the ticket booth. “Until tonight then, Christie. If you can perform the scene Irene Winston does in
Rear Window
, I can almost guarantee that your dream of becoming an important actress will come true.”

Mr. Brother nodded and then he was gone, heading toward the entrance of the Bijou. Christie's face was radiant as she greeted the three older women who moved up to the front of the window.

“Three for the matinee, ladies?”

Christie could barely contain her euphoria as she counted out the change and gave the ladies their computerized tickets. Then she tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for the feature to start so she could close the window. She'd watch
Rear Window
from the projection booth and study Irene Winston's part. Mr. Brother knew a lot about film. Perhaps he was a talent scout. Or a big producer. If Lana Turner had been discovered at the lunch counter in Schwab's drug store, there was no reason why she couldn't get her big break right here in the ticket booth at the Bijou. As Christie closed the shutter on the window and raced up to the projection booth, she was sure that tonight would be the luckiest night of her life!

 

 

Tony sighed in exasperation. This was the fourteenth take and the scene still didn't work.

All three of Tony's actors wore disgruntled expressions as they sat up on the bed and separated.

“Maybe if you let Bobby take over with the camera and you crawled in here?”

There was a wistful expression on Tina's face, but Tony ignored it. The girls were always trying to put the make on him, and he'd been firm about ignoring their advances.

“Forget it, Tina. I told you before, I'm a happily married man. What's the matter with you two girls today? Tina, you're just lying there like a board. Lick your lips or tremble with desire or something. And the same goes for you, Ginger. You're both supposed to go crazy with passion when you catch sight of Bobby.”

“Go crazy with passion over
that?
” Tina flicked her finger, and Bobby quickly covered himself with the sheet. “Don't be ridiculous, Tony. I'm not that good of an actress and neither is Ginger.”

“You can't blame me for that.” Bobby frowned at the girls. “They act about as sexy as dead kittens.”

“Okay, okay, stop blaming each other and concentrate on your lines. Bobby, try to be convincing. Think about something else if the girls don't turn you on. And girls? If Bobby doesn't come through, pretend. This scene isn't going to be much of a turn-on when you two look like you're going to the dentist.”

“The dentist?” Ginger laughed. “Now
that's
sexy, Tony. Did you know those chairs tip all the way back? One time, when I was the only patient in his office, my dentist . . .”

“Let's take a break.” Tony interrupted what he knew would be a long, raunchy story and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. This afternoon he was wearing a mustard-yellow T-shirt that said
AUTO EROTICISM DOES NOT MEAN I'M IN LOVE WITH MY CAR. ”
Anybody else want a cigarette?”

“Tina and I brought our own. You don't mind, do you?” Ginger reached out and grabbed Tony's lighter. “This is a great lighter, Tony. I've seen them in the stores, but I never had the chance to try one before.”

Tony watched as Ginger held the end of the hand-rolled cigarette to the little notch on his lighter. Almost immediately the distinctive musky-sweet odor of marijuana filled the small motel room. Tony wasn't wild about the idea of his cast smoking pot while they were working, but maybe it would help. It seemed that everything was going wrong today.

“Tony? Have a hit.”

Even though he shook his head, Ginger passed the joint to him. He took a drag automatically and held the smoke in his lungs. Good grass. Maybe it would knock him out of his depression.

Bobby was telling the girls a joke when Tony stood up and walked to the window. It was growing dark, and there was a steady stream of headlights outside. Sunday night in Los Angeles. Would the Video Killer strike again tonight?

Suddenly Tony wished for open spaces where the air didn't smell like exhaust fumes and violent crime was something that only happened in other, faraway places. A ranch. He'd always wanted a ranch somewhere in the foothills. Lots of land with a trout stream running through it and a house built in the lee of a hill. It wouldn't have to be fancy. No gardeners or landscapers required. All he needed was a comfortable old ranch house somewhere in the high desert, sturdy enough to keep out the elements.

What would Allison think of living out in the wilds? Tony wasn't really sure. She'd always been a city girl, and she might miss the bright lights and the convenience stores.

One of the girls came up behind him, Tony didn't bother to find out which one, and handed him the joint. He took another hit and passed it back. Why was he so damn depressed today?

Mentally, Tony catalogued his problems. First there were the lies. He'd lied to Erik because of the murder videos. And to Allison to cover up his moonlighting porn job. Tony knew Allison was hurt and puzzled by the way he'd pulled away from her, but he couldn't tell her about the terrible financial crunch they were in. She had enough problems dealing with her mother's terminal illness, and there was no way he'd burden her with any more worries.

Tony pulled out his packet of uppers and washed one down with a swallow of beer. He knew he was abusing the damn things, but his back was to the wall, and it was the only way he could stay alert enough to meet all his commitments. He'd contracted to complete this film to repay his loan. And he'd promised to block out
Video Kill
for Erik. And he'd agreed to act as an adviser on the murder videos for Sam. On top of all that, he had to try to be there for Allison to lean on. Somehow he had to accomplish everything, even though there weren't enough hours in the day, and when he finally got a chance for some sleep, he was either so wired he stared up at the ceiling or so exhausted he practically passed out. Tony felt as if he were trapped on a speeding roller coaster with no way to get off.

“Hey, Tony, are you all right?”

Tony whirled around as Ginger put a hand on his shoulder. For a moment he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone in the room.

“Can we do something that's not in the script? I just thought it up. Bobby's going to be a dentist, and I'll be his patient. I'll seduce him, and then Tina's going to be the dental assistant who catches us and gets into the act. What do you think?”

“Sure.” Tony shrugged. Ginger's idea was a lot better than the script. “Go for it, Ginger.”