Night Vision (6 page)

Authors: Ellen Hart

BOOK: Night Vision

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“Nothing at all.”

She gave a resigned nod. “That's goodâit's the way it should be. What happened to me was pre-O.J., so in that respect, I suppose I got lucky. After the Simpson trial, celebrity trials became everybody's favorite pastime.” She swirled the ice in her glass. “The fact is, I was stalked by a man for a number of months. After he attacked me in a motel room in Beverly Hills, he was arrested. It's a long story and I won't bore you with the details. The case went to court early in 1990. The man's name was Gordon Luberman.

“We were about a week into the trial when his lawyer came to mine with an offer. Gordon said he'd plead guilty to one count of felony assault and two counts of sexual battery, and he'd serve the sentences consecutively and also submit to anger management therapy if I'd consent to two things. First, he wanted the carrying a concealed weapon charge dropped. Second, he wanted the details of the case sealed. If I agreed, he'd said he'd plead guilty and serve the full eight years. I was desperate to get the trial over. I had no assurance that I'd win. Back then, there was no stalking law in California. Gordon had never committed a crime beforeâat least, not one that he was ever charged with. The ADA in charge of my case said there was a less than fifty-fifty chance we'd get a conviction, but with a jury you never knew for sure until the verdict came down. He said that he'd continue to try the case if that's what I wanted, but that this was a good deal and I should think about taking it. I just wanted Gordon gone, Mr. Nolan, so I agreed.”

“I assume,” said Nolan, flipping the notebook to a clean page, “that he's out by now.”

“He was released in 1998. I hired a man to do surveillance on him for a couple of years. The last I heard he'd moved back to Winneconne, Wisconsin, was living with his mother, and leading a basically normal life. Before I left my home in Idaho to come here, I called directory assistance for Winneconne, then asked for âLuberman. ' He's not there anymore, Mr. Nolan.” She took several sips of scotch to fortify herself. “That means he could be anywhere.”

“Do you have some reason to think he's targeting you again?” asked Nolan.

She pressed her lips together to stop them from trembling. “He used to send me flowers all the timeâa dozen red roses. Not the big American beauties, but small tea roses. The day before I left to come here, I received a bouquet of roses. They were pink, but I know they were from him.”

“And you know this how?”

“I just
feel
it, okay? I can't explain it any other way. But the sense is very strong. I received another dozen pink roses here at the loft today.
It's his calling card, Mr. Nolan. Both notes talked about how much he loved me. They even had the same tone as the old notes. Mocking. Menacing.

“I want you to find him and follow him. If he thinks he can start up a relationship with me againâif he's stalking meâI need to know. I need something firmâsome proofâthat I can take to the police. I absolutely refuse to let him define my life again. I spent months afraid to leave my house. It got so bad that, at one point, I even considered suicide. After the trial, I swore I'd never let that happen to me again. That's why you've got to get on this right away. We have to stop him. He's cunning, Mr. Nolan. And he's dangerous.”

Jane had heard bits and pieces of this before, but most of it was new. Joanna never seemed to want to revisit that time in her life. She'd talked to Cordelia about it in much greater detail. Jane had already concluded that Luberman was the main reason Joanna had left L.A. and become a recluse, but she'd known few of the details.

Nolan made a couple of notes on his pad. “Okay, I'd be happy to look into this for you. I chargeâ”

“I don't care what it costs,” said Joanna. “Just bring me something I can use to put him back behind bars.”

“I'll do what I can. I can't promise anything.”

“I understand that.”

“I'm sorry I don't have a lot of time tonight, but we do need to find a couple of hours to sit down together in the next few days. You need to make notes. Write down anything and everything that's important about Luberman, about his methods, about his personality. Oh, and I need the names of your gatekeepersâthe people who handle your PR and keep records of the potential nutcases in your fan base who regularly contact you.”

“Of course. I don't have any of that information with me, but I'll get it.”

Joanna dug through the trunk she'd brought and found a brown manila folder held together with rubber bands. She gave it to Nolan, telling him that it was all the written documentation she had on Gordonâon the trial, and all the info from the PI she'd hired in 1998.

After saying good-bye and that he'd be in touch, Nolan motioned for Jane to walk out with him.

On the way to the elevator, Jane said, “So what do you think?”

“I think,” said Nolan, pressing the Down button and then turning to face her, “that your friend has a very serious problem. How well do you know her?”

“I've known her for years, but we're not close.”

“She kept looking at Cordelia, like she needed her approval. Are they pretty tight?”

Jane nodded. “Joanna's brother, David, and I are the same age. We went to high school together, stayed friends through college and beyond. I'm much closer to him.”

“So this is a family you care about.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, then I got a proposal.”

The huge old freight elevator rumbled to a stop.

Nolan pulled back the wooden gate and opened the door. “Come downstairs with me.”

“Why?”

“Aren't you the one who's been telling me for the last two months how she needs to take a few weeks off, get a little R and R? After the last year you put in, I think you deserve it. And if you want to change gearsâand help your friendâI suggest you work with me on this.”

Jane hesitated. “What would you want me to do?”

“For starters, you could look through this file.” He handed it to her. On their way down to the first floor, Nolan said he was on another case that would probably wind up tonight, but he wouldn't be home until well after midnight. He wanted her to go through the information, pull out the most salient points, and then he'd pick her up in the morning and they'd drive to Winneconne to begin their search. It was Luberman's last known residence, so it was the best place to start.

Jane thought about it as she walked Nolan to his car. “I'm not sure Joanna would want me to get involved.”

“Only one way to find out. Ask her. Look, I'm going to leave the file with you. Put it in your car. If she doesn't want you on board, call
my cell and leave a message. I'll pick up the file in the morning. But if she does agree to it, burn the midnight oil and go over the information. I'll want a full report.”

Jane wasn't sure if this was smart move or a stupid one. All she knew was that he'd made her an offer she couldn't refuse. “You got yourself a deal. I'll talk to Joanna and let you know.”

J
ust before eight that evening, David pulled up to the front of the Linden Building. He sat in his red BMW with the motor running, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Jane had called him about Joanna. Maybe it was pure selfishness, but everything that had happened since coming to Minnesota felt so thwarting.

When Jane mentioned that Diego had called Joanna yesterday, sounding frantic, David felt something crack apart inside. He'd left Atlanta in order to protect Diego, but in the process, he'd hurt him badly. He'd acted impulsively, damaging, perhaps destroying, the one thing on earth he valued more than any other. He prayed Diego would forgive him, not that he deserved it. Maybe it was better if Diego blew up and called it quits. More than anything else, David didn't want to cause him any more pain, and if they stayed together, that's all he could promise.

Flipping open his cell phone, David saw that his mailbox was full. He'd turned it off when he left Atlanta. Scrolling through the messages, he noted that some were from his business partner, but most were from Diego. David had recharged the battery last night but hadn't switched it back on until this moment.

Tapping in Diego's number, he waited. He had no idea what he
would say. Maybe he'd just let Diego scream at him. That would be easy enough. The prospect of being screamed at by someone other than himself was oddly appealing.

Diego's voice came across the line midway through the third ring. “David?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

Silence.

“Hi,” said David, telling himself to breathe.

“Where are you? Why didn't you return any of my phone calls?” Diego's voice cracked on the last word.

David pressed his fingers to his eyes. “I'm in Minneapolis.”

“Minneapolis? What on earth are you doing there?” He let fly with a burst of Spanish invective. “I've been out of my mind with worry!”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You're
sorry
?” Again, he swore in Spanish. “You damn sure better have more to say than
I'm sorry.
Tell me what is going on!”

“You know what it was like for me before I left. I thought I was losing it.”

“Insomnia happens, David. It can be a really bad problem for some. But you could have gone to a doctor. Got a prescription. They have stuff to help you, that's what they're there for! A few good nights' rest and you would be okay.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Okay, maybe I'm oversimplifying. But to leave without telling meâ”

“I was afraid.”

“Of me? Because of the argument we had?”

David leaned his head back. “God, no, not you. Never you.”

“Do you know what you put me through? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“Diego, listen to me. I promise I'll be home soon. Just give me a couple more weeks.”

“Weeks?”
More swearing. “Why should I? Maybe I should change all the locks, toss your clothes out on the street. Would you like that? You deserve no better!”

“I know. I'm not arguing with you.”

“You get on a plane and come home. Now. Tonight!”

“I can't. Joanna's in trouble.”

“What trouble?”

“Remember Gordon Luberman? She thinks he may be stalking her again. She's in terrible shape.”

“I just talked to her yesterday. She was fine.”

“Well, she isn't today. She asked me to stay with her until this gets sorted out. I couldn't say no.” It was an excuse, and not exactly the truth, but it was all he had.

“You are acting so crazy, David, I don't know what to say, what to believe.”

Diego's words felt like darts hitting his skin. “Call Joanna. She'll tell you it's the truth. Look, just give me a little more time. I owe it to my sister to stand by her.”

“Will you call me? Will you come home as soon as you can?”

“I promise.”

“You
swear
?”

“I swear, Diego.”

“You will answer your phone if I call?”

“Absolutely. If I can't for some reason, leave a message and I'll call you back. I mean it. I won't disappear again. I love you more than I ever thought possible. If I've learned anything in the past month, it's that.”

Long sigh. “God, I shouldn't say this, but it's so good to hear your voice. Are you well? Are you eating? Have you been in Minnesota this whole time?”

“I'll tell you more tomorrow, okay?”

“Ah,” he groaned. “All right. I give you the time you need. Just stay in touch. Godspeed to you,
mi amor.
I will pray for you.”

David felt tears burn his eyes. When he said good-bye, he choked on the word.

The smell of garlic and lemon, and the sound of waiters calling “Oompah!” assaulted David as he trudged through the first floor
carrying his duffel bag. Jane told him that the service elevator in the Linden Building was right next to the mailboxes in the rear hallway, behind Athena's Garden. Earlier in the day, he'd spent a couple of uneventful hours sleeping in his car, but he was so sleep deprived that it hadn't even made a dent in his exhaustion. He walked through the lobby like a zombie, weighed down by a seemingly bottomless sadness.

Setting down the duffel, David read through the names on the register next to a phone. Tammi Bonifay was the name of the woman Joanna was subletting the loft from.

“Four oh one,” he whispered, picking up the receiver and pressing the extension. Joanna would need to buzz him in. He wished he still had a few of those uppers left, but he'd used them all on the drive here. Joanna's voice startled him when she finally answered.

“Yes?”

“Joanna? It's David.”

“I'll buzz. When you get off, walk straight to the end of the hallway. My door's on the right.”

“Okay.” It was an old building with a limited security system, but any security system was worth its weight in gold in a big city.

Up on four, David picked up his gear and headed down the hall. He liked old, banged-up, drafty lofts. Diego had renovated four or five in downtown Atlanta in the last few years. Gentrification of the seedier sections of town would only serve to push the rougher element somewhere else. “Like the burbs,” muttered David, a wicked smile on his face. He may not have been an inner-city denizen in his youth, but he'd become oneâand was damn proud of it. “But I digress,” he whispered, pounding on Joanna's door.

When the door swung back, Joanna was shouting, “Stop that racket!”

“Hi,” said David, forcing a smile.

“You look awful.”

“You don't look so hot yourself.”

He walked in, gave the place a quick look. “God,” he said, his mouth dropping open, “I've just walked into a country-western wet
dream.” He dropped his bag, turned around, and hugged his sister. He was surprised by how fiercely she hugged him back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Since you asked, I'm just this side of a nervous breakdown. How about you?”

“A nervous breakdown sounds good. If nothing else, the decorating in this place should push us over the edge. I feel like breaking knicknacks with a hammer. How about you?”

“Be serious.”

“I am. When we're done, we can get drunk and sit in the bathtub singing âHappy Trails to You.'”

She gave him a long, disgusted look. “Did you call Diego?”

“Yes, Mother.”

She cracked a smile. “God, but it's good to see you.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I was.”

“And now you're not?”

“Actually, I can't remember exactly why I was mad. But it will come to me.”

“Probably my generally obtuse behavior.”

“Probably,” she said, dropping down on the couch in the living room. She picked up a stuffed bear and hugged it to her chest.

“Maybe I was mad at
you,
” said David, finding his own stuffed animal to hugâa fluffy white sheep.

“I seem to detect a pattern here,” said Joanna.

“Are you saying we're predictable?”

“Boringly adolescent is more like it.”

“Then maybe we should turn over a new leaf. No more yearlong snits.”

“What's life without a little drama?”

He shrugged. Walking over to the windows, he looked out at the lights of downtown Minneapolis. “Great view. You really think Luberman's after you again? I mean, those flowers you got weren't precisely the same.”

“I know in my gut that it's him.”

In David's opinion, Joanna's “gut” wasn't famous for its accuracy. Even so, he felt deeply sorry for her. He wanted to help. “Are you scared?”

“Hell, yes!”

He noticed now that she was drinking. Normally, the hardest thing she ever touched was an occasional beer. Turning to the dining room, he spied two wooden cases of wine on the table. “You planning to drink yourself to death?”

“The wine? It's a gift from one of the tenants. He's a wine importer.”

“Lucky you. You're already making friends.”

“Yeah, lucky me.”

He sat down on the couch next to her. “Just tell me what you want me to do. If I can help, I will.”

“Thanks. Let me think about it.”

“Have you unpacked yet?”

She took a sip of the scotch, held the glass to her cheek. “Yeah. Nothing else to do. Cordelia left a couple of hours ago. She had to get over to the theater. Jane left, too. She had to work tonight at that new restaurant of hers.”

“Wanna go check it out?”

“The Xanadu Club? Right now?”

“Sure. Why not?”

She covered his hand with hers. “I do want to see it, but â¦ I just don't feel up to it tonight. Besides, if Gordon is out there somewhereâ”

“Don't do that, Joanna. Don't let him force you to live in a cave. I mean, look. It may not even be him. There may be some other explanation. Getting out would do you a world of good.”

She listened but shook her head. “I know you're right, but the flight here was tiring. I just don't have the steam tonight. Another night, okay?”

“Okay.” He glanced at his duffel bag. “Where do I bunk?”

“You're gonna just love this, Davey. Every room in this loft has a theme. I'm staying in the rooster bedroom right off the kitchen.”

“Rooster bedroom? You dare talk about a ârooster bedroom' to a professional interior designer?”

“You'll love it. Roosters everywhere. Resin rooster hooks. Rooster plates. A rooster braided rug. Even rooster sheets and pillowcases.”

“Are there any rooster barf bags?”

She socked him in the arm. “And then there's another room that's sort of retro-Americanaâphotographs of old gas stations from the fifties, art deco malt shops, old cars, and stacks and stacks of old postcards. Oh, and there's a
Father Knows Best
poster over the bed.”

“That's where I want to die, Joanna. It's too perfect for words.”

“And the bathroom off that bedroom is decorated all in apple decor.”

“Apple decor,” he repeated, smiling with absolutely no warmth.

“The other bedroom is pigs and chickens. The Americana bedroom shares the apple bathroom with the pigs and chickens bedroom.”

He put his hand over his stomach. “I may need to use that rooster barf bag sooner rather than later.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her looking back at him. “What?”

“Why'd you take off from Atlanta? Diego was beside himself with worry.”

“It's personal. Between Diego and me.”

“Don't tell me you two are having problems?”

“Would that surprise you?”

“Yes! You guys have the best relationship I know. To stay with the retro theme, you're like Ozzie and Harriet. Lucy and Desi.”

“Desi was a bastard. He and Lucy split because he couldn't keep his pants zipped.”

“You mean â¦ is
that
your problem?” Joanna set her drink down and stared at him full in the face. “Tell me, David. Has Diego been unfaithful?”