Kevin O'Brien Bundle (124 page)

Hannah bit her lip. “All right,” she said finally. “You go on. I’ll stay a little while longer.”

The taxi that had been waiting for Hannah was now letting Ben out at the big Tudor house on Aloha Street. Ben had expected to find a couple of police cars parked in the long driveway. There were six of them. Dozens of onlookers stood in front of the mansion, many of them craning their necks to get a peek at the garage. Ben couldn’t imagine an apparent suicide attracting so much attention. Seth hadn’t even died on the premises.

Ben wondered about the roommate. Was he dead too?

He threaded his way through the crowd. “Do you know what happened?” he asked one young woman, who looked like a college student.

She shrugged. “This guy offed himself or something.”

Ben felt someone nudge him. He turned to face an overweight, middle-aged man with copper-colored hair and a hint of eye makeup. He had a miniature schnauzer on a leash. “The young man who lived above the garage there killed himself this morning,” he whispered. “He jumped from the tower of that church up the block, you know, Sacred Heart?”

Ben nodded.

Touching his arm, the man looked Ben up and down. “But that’s only part of it,” he said. “Looks like he videotaped a bunch of people, then murdered them.”

Ben frowned at him. “What?”

The chubby man nodded conspiratorially. “I hear he kept photos and videotapes of his victims, women mostly. The police found it all in the garage apartment back there—along with some video equipment and God knows what else. Can you imagine? Right here in our neighborhood?”

“No, I—I can’t believe it,” Ben murmured.

“Do you live around here?” the man asked.

“Excuse me,” Ben said. He made his way toward the mouth of the driveway, where a husky, mustached patrolman kept the people back. The cop was talking to a stocky man with red hair. Ben recognized him from last night. He owned the Tudor house.

“Did something happen to Seth Stroud?” he asked loudly.

The cop turned to frown at him. “Who are you?”

A few other people were looking at him, too. “Um, my name’s Jack Stiles,” he lied. “I’m in Seth’s film class at the community college.”

The man with the red hair squinted at him. “Film class?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, he’s a teaching assistant for a film class over at the community college.”

“Well, that’s news to me,” replied the owner of the Tudor house. “Seth worked at Bourm’s Lock and Key on Fifteenth.” He turned to the cop. “I don’t understand this. One of you guys said this morning that his boss from the
video store
called him. Something’s screwed up here. I was his landlord. I know how he made a living.”

“What about his roommate?” Ben asked. “Have you talked with him?”

“What roommate?” the man said. “You must have the wrong guy.”

Bewildered, Ben stared at him. None of it made sense. He’d searched every inch of that garage apartment just last night, and hadn’t found a thing. And now it seemed Seth Stroud was two different people.

The cop took hold of his arm. “Listen, Mister—ah—Stiles,” he said. “I need you to stick around. One of our detectives will want a statement.”

Ben quickly shook his head, then took a step back. “Hey, you know, you’re right. I must have the wrong guy.”

“Just the same, I need you to stay put, Mr. Stiles—”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Ben said, giving him a curtailed wave. Turning away, he weaved through the crowd. All the while, he thought someone might grab him. He finally broke free from the swarm of people and walked at a brisk clip. He kept expecting to hear a police whistle or someone yelling at him to stop.

Ducking into an alley, he cut through someone’s yard, then ran several blocks. Ben looked over his shoulder. No one was following him; at least, he didn’t see anybody. He spotted a pay phone in the window of a coffeehouse, and hurried inside.

Catching his breath, he dug into his pocket for change. No quarters. There was a line at the counter. He stepped up to the front. “Could I just get change?” he asked.

“End of the line, bub,” the skinny young man at the espresso machine said, barely glancing up.

Ben pulled a five-dollar bill out of his wallet. “Look, five bucks,” he said, still out of breath. “I’m exchanging this for two quarters.” He dropped the bill in the tip jar, then took out two quarters.

“That’s pretty cool,” the young man said, nodding.

Ben hurried to the phone, put in his money, and dialed Hannah’s number. While the phone rang, he glanced out the coffeehouse window. A cop car came down the block. Ben stepped away from the window. He heard Hannah’s machine click on, and her recorded greeting. As he waited for the beep, he watched the squad car continue down the street.

“Hannah, are you there?” he asked. “Can you pick up?”

There was another click. “Ben? Where are you?”

“In a coffeeshop not far from you.”

“Well, that narrows it down to about fifteen places. Did you find out anything more about Seth?”

“Something’s really screwy here, Hannah. Apparently, the cops found video equipment, tapes, and photographs—all linking Seth to several murders.”

“Which murders? You mean Britt—and Rae and—”

“I wasn’t able to find out for sure,” Ben replied. “But it looks that way. The thing is, none of that stuff was in the apartment when I searched it last night. Somebody set this up. And according to Seth’s landlord, he worked in a lock and key place. The guy didn’t know anything about the film classes or the video store.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Hannah said. “Tish just talked to one of the police there this morning—”

“I know, I know,” he said. “They mentioned that. I guess it threw them for a loop.”

“What about the roommate?” Hannah asked.

“According to the landlord, Seth Stroud lived alone.”

“Then who was that guy we talked to at Seth’s apartment?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. Do you remember his name?”

“Oh, just a sec. Um, Something Kidd…Michael…no…”

“Richard,” Ben said. “That’s it, Richard Kidd. Hold on.” Cradling the receiver against his ear with his shoulder, Ben pulled the phone directory out of a little nook below the pay phone. He quickly paged through it. “I’m looking him up right now. Here we go,
Kidd…Randall, Robert, Roy…
shit, nothing.”

Ben heard a click on her end of the line. “Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s my call-waiting,” she said. “I don’t know if I should take it. Oh, what the hell. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

Guy was mesmerized in front of
Sesame Street
, and sitting too close to the TV. Four suitcases and a box of toys sat by the front door. And Hannah stood at the kitchen counter, the cordless phone in her hand. She pressed the call waiting button. “Um, hello?” she said warily.

“Hannah, it’s Tish again.” She sounded anxious and rushed. “I hate to keep bugging you when you have a sick child at home. Any luck in getting another sitter?”

“Oh, Tish, I’m sorry, no,” she said, picking up the
Vertigo
cassette, then frowning at it.

“Well, I wouldn’t call, but I’ll have to close the store if you can’t come in. They want me at the East Precinct to answer a bunch of asinine questions. I’m supposed to be there
now.”

“What kind of questions?” Hannah set the video back on the counter.

“Oh, seems they don’t think Seth was really working at this store. Right. Hello? He opened a new account his first day here. Same address, same phone number, same birthday, and the same social security number on his W-2 form. What more do they want? I think they may ask me to identify the body, and believe you me, I ain’t up for that. God, listen to me. I’m awful. The poor guy’s dead. It’ll hit me tonight and I’ll have a total breakdown. Anyway, Han, I just thought I’d try you again. Any chance you can get a neighbor to come over and look after Guy—just for a couple of hours?”

“I’m sorry, Tish. I really can’t.”

“Well, on the off chance you get away, you have your key to the store, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I honestly don’t think I can do it, Tish.”

“Okay. Just thought I’d try. Take care, Han.”

“Bye,” Hannah said. She pressed the flash button. “Ben, are you there?”

“Yeah, what took so long?”

“My boss at the video store. She’s frazzled.”

“Well, have her join the club. I still can’t figure out what’s going on. We were both there when Richard Kidd told us he was Seth’s roommate. Did Seth confirm that to you?”

“Yes. I remember him saying later
My roommate told me you came by,
or words to that effect.”

“So how come no one else knows he had a roommate?” Ben said. “It’s like Seth Stroud was two different guys.”

Hannah stared at the
Vertigo
tape on the counter.

“Are you there?” Ben asked.

“Two different Seth Strouds,” she said. “You know, in
Vertigo
, Kim Novak’s character was pretending to be someone else for the first half of the movie.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She was pretending to be a woman named Madeleine,” Hannah explained. “And when she jumped from the church tower, it was faked. The real Madeleine was thrown from the tower instead, and Kim’s character just went back to being her old self—until Jimmy Stewart rediscovered her.”

“Hannah, I still don’t understand. It’s been a while since I saw that movie.”

“I’ll explain later. I have a feeling Richard Kidd is behind all this. And he might be in our customer files at the video store. If so, his address would be in the computer at work. Listen. How far are you from store?”

“A few blocks,” Ben said.

“Meet me out front,” Hannah said. “Guy and I are leaving right now. We’ll see you in five minutes.”

“Take a cab,” Ben advised. “I’d feel better knowing you have someone with you. Besides, you can bring my duffel bag.”

“Will do,” she replied.

“See you soon,” he said. “Be careful, Hannah.”

TEMPORARILY CLOSED DUE TO EMERGENCY

We’ll Reopen by 2:30 Today (Friday)

Sorry About the Inconvenience

Tish had left the sign on Emerald City Video’s door. The lights were switched off inside, and the door was locked.

Hannah had brought her key. She paid the cab driver and asked him to wait. Guy jumped out of the taxi and ran to hug Ben.

Hannah pulled out her key and unlocked the door. “C’mon, hurry up, guys,” she urged, stepping inside. “I need to turn off the alarm.”

She locked the door behind them, then made a beeline for the break room, and punched in the alarm deactivating code.

With the cold, gloomy, overcast morning, not much light came through the store window. Hannah switched on one set of lights in the store—over the children’s section. She planted Guy in front of the shelf of kids’ videos. “Okay, you know the drill, honey,” she told him. “Look all you want, but don’t make a mess.” She pointed to the break room. “Ben and I will be right over there. Okay?”

“Can we watch
Monsters, Inc.,
Mom?” he asked.

“Only for the fifteenth time? I don’t think so, Guy. Not tonight.” She felt his forehead, then mussed his hair and hurried to the break room.

Tish had left the computer on. Sitting at the desk, Hannah began to type. She pulled up the customer file. Ben looked over her shoulder.

She typed in
Kidd, Richard.
What came up was the closest name to it: Kidman, Andrew.

“Oh, shit,” she muttered. “He’s not in here.”

“Back it up,” Ben suggested. “See if there’s another person with the last name Kidd.”

Hannah scrolled back to the previous customer:
Kidd, Matthew…Kidd, Lawrence…Kidd, Laura…Kidd, Eustace (Richard).

“That’s him,” Hannah said. The birth date listed made Eustace Richard Kidd twenty-five. Hannah clicked on the Related Customer icon to see if he had anyone else on his account:
Stroud, Seth.

“Bingo,” Ben muttered, grabbing a piece of paper and pen from the desktop. “What’s the address listed?”

“1313 East Republican Street,” Hannah read from the screen. “It’s not far from Seth’s place.”

Hannah clicked into his rental history file. “It’s all here,” she said. “Angela’s the first victim we know of, right? Seth said she was Paul’s summer fling last year. She was killed in late August; strangled under the bells at the Convention Center, like Marilyn Monroe in
Niagara
. Look at the rental dates. He checked it out twice.”

Hannah pointed to the listing:

“Guy, are you okay out there?” Hannah called, while scrolling down the alphabet.

“Can we watch
Charlie Brown Great Pumpkin?”
he yelled back.

“It’s
It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown
,” Hannah corrected him. “Not tonight, honey.” On the screen, she pointed to another rental listing:

“That’s a week or two before Rae’s boyfriend fell off the roof,” Ben said. “Like Eva Marie Saint’s brother in
On the Waterfront.”

“They were boning up on how to do it like the movie,” Hannah remarked. She scrolled to the S’s:

“That’s before they killed the woman in Rae’s office. Lily, the one who was strangled on that island near the Arboretum.”

“The Floating Flower,” Ben murmured. “What about
Looking for Mr. Goodbar?”

Shaking her head, Hannah scrolled back to the L’s. “I don’t think so, no. It’s not here. I must have already been targeted as Rae’s successor by then. They probably didn’t want to take any chances renting it here.”

“You keep saying
they.
You mean Richard and Seth?”

She nodded. “Didn’t we pretty much establish that two people have been behind all these killings? You said one was driving and another was shooting at you the other evening. Right?”

Ben scratched his head. “So—the theory is, for one reason or another, Richard turned on Seth and killed him last night. Or are you saying maybe Seth really isn’t dead?”

Hannah cleared the computer screen. “No, I think Seth is dead, all right. The real Seth Stroud. We only met him once.”

Hannah turned around in the chair to face him. “It’s why Seth’s fall from the bell tower copied
Vertigo
. I started to tell you on the phone. Kim Novak’s character was pretending to be Madeleine during the first half of the movie. Jimmy Stewart was led to believe she’d killed herself by jumping from the church tower. But it wasn’t a suicide. It was the real Madeleine’s murder.”

He nodded. “I remember. But what does it have to do with—”

“The
Vertigo
clip we saw was a fake suicide,” Hannah interrupted. “The woman Kim Novak pretended to be was murdered. Last night, the real Seth Stroud was murdered. The person we’ve known as Seth was just pretending to be him.”

“What makes you so sure?” Ben asked.

“The film clip. He’s never misled me before.”

“So—you’re saying the person who has been calling himself Seth Stroud is really—”

“Richard Kidd,” she said, handing him the scrap of paper with Richard Kidd’s address written on it. “He was friends with Seth Stroud. We know that. Remember when you and I went to the garage apartment, looking for Seth?”

“Sure, yeah. Of course,”

“When that young man answered the door, at first glance, I thought he was Seth, because they looked so much alike. Remember before he said anything, we asked if Seth Stroud lived there?”

Ben nodded.

“His response was something like ‘What do you want to see him about?’”

“And we told him we were in Seth’s film class,” Ben finished for her. “Then he said he was Seth’s roommate, Richard Kidd.” Ben gave her a wary, sidelong glance. “You think he was lying?”

“Yeah.” Hannah got to her feet. “I think
he
was Seth Stroud. He was the one killed last night. He lived alone in that garage apartment, and worked at a lock and key store. That must have come in handy when he and Richard Kidd broke into several of their victims’ homes.”

Ben frowned at her. “But why would they switch identities?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe part of some game. They were into playing games, manipulating people.”

“I don’t understand how Richard Kidd could be employed at the community college—and here at the video store—under the name Seth Stroud. What about his Social Security number, his paychecks, his bank account?”

Hannah sighed. “I don’t know, maybe he’s independently wealthy, and doesn’t need the money. We know he used his friend’s Social Security number. Maybe he gave his paychecks to the real Seth—for the use of his name. I said it before. This killer must own some pretty expensive, sophisticated equipment to have put together that
Goodbar
video. Hell, those glasses Seth—or rather,
Richard
—wears are designer, at least a cool thousand. He dresses pretty nicely for a part-time teacher’s assistant and video-store clerk.”

Shaking his head, Ben folded his arms. “I still don’t understand why they switched identities.”

Hannah shrugged. “Well, maybe it wasn’t a total switch. When we met the real Seth Stroud, we put him on the spot. My guess is he only lied that one time about who he was—when we came knocking on his door. Maybe Richard Kidd borrowed Seth’s name and identity for certain things—and certain reasons.”

“Well, what reasons?” Ben pressed.

“I don’t know, dammit!” Hannah said, exasperated. “I’m trying to make sense of this too, same as you.”

“Mom, you said
dammit!”
Guy called from the next room.

Hannah let out a weak laugh. “Um, sorry, honey!” she called back. She gazed at Ben. “I keep thinking of something you said a couple of days ago. You said this killer ended up with more than he bargained for when he started stalking me. He got in over his head, killing a couple of private detectives. Things are closing in on him. He had to cut all his ties and move on. I certainly know how that feels. He’s kind of like me in that sense.” She shook her head. “It’s weird to find I have something in common with a serial killer. Anyway, maybe that’s why he killed his friend. He must have—”

A sudden pounding on the store’s glass door cut her off.

“Mom!” Guy yelled.

Hannah and Ben hurried out of the break room. She ran to Guy and hugged him. Glancing over at the video store door, she saw the cab driver. “It’s okay, honey,” she assured Guy, with a skittish laugh. “It’s just our cab driver. He thought we’d forgotten about him.”

Ben was signaling to the driver, holding up two fingers. “Two more minutes!” he yelled to the man on the other side of the glass.

The driver waved back at him, then ambled back his taxi.

Guy had left a pile of videos on the floor. Hannah started returning them to the shelf. Ben crouched down to help. “So—you think Richard—um,
took care
of his friend; then he went to the garage apartment with enough evidence so it would appear the late Seth Stroud was—alone—responsible for these—
unfortunate incidents?”

She gave a cautious glance at Guy, who wasn’t picking up on any of their conversation.

“Can we watch this one tonight?” he whispered, handing her a copy of
Aladdin
.

“Not tonight, sweetie.” She nodded at Ben. “Yes. I think he got into that apartment after you.”

“But if he was so hot on covering his tracks and moving on, why did he give himself away to you with the
Vertigo
tape? He must have known you’d figure it out.”

“I think he
wanted
me to figure it out,” Hannah said, frowning. “He wants me to know he’s still around. My guess is—he’s not finished with me.”

“All the more reason I should stay with you today,” Ben said, straightening up.

Hannah shook her head. “No, Ben. It would just prolong everything. You said so yourself. There are too many unanswered questions. I can’t afford to stick around and find those answers. But you can.”

Frowning, Ben pulled the piece of scrap paper out of his pocket and glanced at it. “1313 East Republican,” he said. “That’s only a few blocks from here, isn’t it?”

She nodded. “Why don’t you two guys step outside so I can set the alarm again? C’mon, Guy.”

As they walked to the door, Ben whispered to her. “I’ll stick around and watch you go. If someone starts following the cab, I’ll call from a pay phone and leave a message for you at home. Check your answering machine when you swing by to pick up your bags.”

Hannah nodded. “Thanks, Ben.”

He and Guy ducked outside. Hannah locked the door, ran back and set the alarm, then quickly retraced her steps to the door again. Once outside, she locked the door behind her.

Ben had already taken his duffel bag out of the taxi, and Guy sat in the back, waiting. Ben stood in the light, drizzling rain, holding the taxi door open for her. She stopped for a moment and stared at his handsome, chiseled face, still bruised, shiny with raindrops. He smiled sadly at her. “When you get where you’re going, don’t forget to call me at the Best Western. Okay?”

She nodded and took hold of his arm. “Thanks, Ben,” she whispered. “Thanks for everything.”

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” he asked.

Her heart ached. Hannah threw her arms around him.

Ben kissed her on the lips. She clung to him fiercely, but then forced herself to break away. “Take care,” she said, her voice cracking. She jumped into the backseat of the cab.

Ben closed the door.

Hannah pulled Guy closer to her. She glanced through the rain-beaded window to see Ben’s face again, but the taxi pulled away. She didn’t get a last look at him.

“Why are you crying, Mom?” Guy asked.

Hannah had hoped he wouldn’t notice. They’d been driving for five blocks, and he hadn’t uttered a word. She didn’t want to tell him that they wouldn’t be seeing Ben again. If Guy knew, he’d be crying too.

“I’m just feeling sad, honey,” Hannah said, wiping her eyes. “Some people cry when they’re about to go on a trip. I’m one of them. I’ll be okay in a little while.”

As the taxi approached her street, Hannah glanced out the rear window. She didn’t notice anyone following them. Then again, she didn’t know what type of car to look for.

The cab turned down her block. Hannah let out a gasp. “Um, keep going, please,” she said to the driver.

A police car was parked in front of her apartment building.

“Isn’t this your address?” the cabby asked.

“Yes, but keep driving, please,” Hannah said.

As they passed her building, Hannah saw one cop step out of the squad car while his partner remained behind the wheel. Hannah glanced over her shoulder to watch the policeman step toward the front door.

“Turn left up ahead, please,” she told the driver. Hannah had him take another left, then pull into the parking lot of a condominium behind her building. Fishing her keys and some money from her purse, she gave the driver twenty dollars. “Keep the meter running, please,” she said. “We’ll be back down. I promise it won’t take as long as the last time.”

“Fine with me,” he replied. “It’s your money, lady.”

Hannah took Guy’s hand, and they walked up some steps to a little walkway at the side of the condominium. “Now, honey, for the next few minutes, I need you to be quiet and do exactly what I say, all right?”

“’Kay,” he said, holding out his free hand to catch the light raindrops.

Hannah opened a swinging gate in the fence that divided the properties; then she and Guy stepped up to the back door of her building.

Inside the dark stairwell, they climbed up the cement stairs. Guy was stomping. “You have to be very quiet, honey,” Hannah whispered, squeezing his hand. “We don’t want anyone to hear us.”