Cutting Room

by T. S. Worthington

  “Well, Lori Thomas and Joanie Michaels were murdered Saturday morning. The morning after the film festival.”

  “Wow, that’s rough,” Declan said.

  “What time did you get to work that morning to start your new job?”

  “I had to be there at seven,” Declan said.

  “Do you remember what time you got home after the movie?”

  “It was just a bit after midnight.”

  “That’s not a lot of time to sleep, is it?”

  “No, I don’t sleep much.”

  Gellar doubted that judging from the dopey eyed monster standing in front of her.

  “So you have never met those two girls?” Gellar asked.

  “No, never. You think I done something?” Declan asked.

  “No, but you were there and given your history it does make you a person of interest.”

  “That’s not fair,” Declan said.

  “Well, when you do horrible things they tend to follow you around forever,” Gellar said. This guy was starting to aggravate her and she knew that she shouldn’t have brought up his past; it was just going to piss him off and make him defensive.

  “Well, I didn’t know those girls. I’m not sure why you are here. If you’ll excuse me I got things to do,” Declan said.

  “What sort of things?”

  “None of your business,” Declan replied.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you; that wasn’t my intention. I am just trying to get to the bottom of this.”

  Declan seemed to relax a little bit as he swayed back and forth in the doorway.

  “Ok,” Declan said.

  “Now, have you ever heard of Max Collins or Jay Morgan?”

  “No, I don’t know any of these people. I don’t know what you think I’ve done or what you think I know, but I don’t.”

  “Well they are the two men who made that movie and the two girls were also in the film. So someone is attacking people involved with it. So we are just talking to everyone who was there that night just to see if anything opens up a door that might lead to finding the person who is doing this.”

  Declan began to get very agitated. He was stuttering and his eyes were darting back and forth. His hands kept curling into fists and uncurling.

  Gellar gently moved her hand closer to her gun. If he made a move she’d have the barrel jammed down his throat before he could even blink.

  “I’m done with this conversation. I don’t know these people. You have no right to be here. You are trespassing. I want you to go,” Declan said, his mouth moving at a rapid fire speed.

  “Well, if you think of anything give us a call at the station,” Gellar said as Declan slammed the door in her face.

  She stood there a bit perplexed and a little amused. What was he hiding? Was it just the fact that she was a cop and she was asking him questions? Or did he really have something to do with this?

  Her instincts were leaning towards the former. Declan was not just a weird guy with a violent past, but something told her that he just did not have the gray matter to pull off anything like this. She’d listened to the video clip that Max had received and the speech patterns and the way the killer expressed himself was leaps and bounds above any thought that Declan Hamilton could have pulled off.

  But there was still something really off about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. If he wasn’t involved in this maybe he was involved in something else. She decided that she would just have to keep an eye on him.

  Gellar saw a few neighbors down the street eyeballing her suspiciously as she descended the rickety steps leading up to Declan’s trailer. They were probably not used to Declan having visitors and she had a feeling that they could tell that she was a cop. With people in that area cops stuck out like a sore thumb whether they were in uniform or not.

  She was just reaching for the car door handle when she heard the shot.

  It came from inside Declan’s house.

  Instinctively she crouched down and pulled out her gun from its holster that hung from her shoulder inside her sports coat. She quickly made her way up the steps and kicked the door open.

  As Gellar entered she secured the area behind the door and to her left and right as per her training and stepped into the kitchen.

  She only had to take three steps to see into the living room where Declan’s body was lying on the floor in front of the couch. She checked the doorway, gun held high and saw that there was no one in the trailer.

  Down at her feet Declan laid dead, a bullet hole in his head, and a pistol still dangling from his hand.

  Chapter 6

  “Thick as Thieves”

  Max opened his eyes, the pain of the light sending the nausea resurging through his body. He clamped them closed again and tried to open more slowly this time working through the pain and the nausea to establish some sense of balance. He glanced at the IV drip in his harm. The nurse was just finishing up replacing the bag with a fresh one.

  The doctor had told him that he was insanely lucky; he found large amounts of a poison called Phylome. It was used mostly as a tranquilizer for large game animals. It had actually started to make the rounds at colleges with a watered down version of it that apparently was supposed to be better than bath salts. It was the new “it” drug.

  Max had never even experimented with drugs before in his entire life. With his health issues from an early age he had learned how fragile the human body was and that if it was feeling well you didn’t mess with it to make it feel even better. How the hell had this happened? Max had asked himself that question repeatedly, but he already knew the answer. The killer had broken into his house and tampered with the insulin, putting this drug in his system.

  The doctor told him that what he took was a very diluted dose, but it was a lot of it. So it was clear that the killer was not trying to kill him. Or maybe he just wanted Max to get as close to the brink of death as was absolutely possible and then come back.

  But why? What was the point in toying with him? Why didn’t he just kill him? Like he did with Lori and Joanie? It just didn’t make sense. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to. He’d been thinking about what Gellar told hm. She said that the killer was using the other murders just to torture him and Jay. They were the filmmakers and he was holding them responsible for the offense.

  But what offense? It had to be more than just some asshole who didn’t like a movie. But what? What did they do with this film that set this freak off?

  Max wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. The fear and the paranoia. He didn’t know who to trust. He doubted that anyone was getting back in his house without being patted down by the cops outside; the killer had obviously messed with his insulin before the cops were there. He had to believe that, anyway. There was no way that he was able to believe that this psycho had made it past those cops. Because if he did then he could do it again.

  That was the most frightening thing of all. What if that did happen? What if he was not safe anywhere? What the hell was he going to do?

  “Hey, look who’s awake,” the voice said from the other end of the room.

  Max jerked his head upwards causing the nausea to hit him with the blast of an atomic bomb. He thought for a second he was going to vomit everywhere, but somehow held it down.

  His eyes were now staring at his best friend Jay Morgan.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Max asked. He realized after the words left his mouth how fucking stupid that really sounded.

  Jay laughed. “Man, you must be all sorts of doped up.”

  “I’m not sure. Is there meds in the IV? Or just fluids?”

  “The doctor told you earlier. You don’t remember? Ah, well you were probably still a bit out of it. They got you on stuff to help with the pain and the nausea.”

  “I feel really nauseous, so I’m not sure it’s helping.”

  “Maybe it is. Imagine how much it would suck without,” Jay said.

>   “That’s why we are friends; you are always there to remind me of how much worse shit can get,” Max said.

  “Well, it’s my right as your best friend to keep you honest and stuff,” Jay said.

  “So how long did it take you to find me?” Max said.

  “I’m not sure. I heard a loud thump, which I imagine is when you fell down in your room. I ran in and found you unconscious and called 911 and yelled for the cops outside. I figured they might have some medical training or that they might be able to move things along a bit faster.”

  “Wow, thanks. I was afraid you wouldn’t hear me,” Max said. “I tried to scream out for help when I started feeling sick but my voice wouldn’t work and I was barely able to breathe.”

  “Shit, man.”

  “So, what else did the doctor say? I only remember maybe half,” Max said as a cramp tore through his stomach. He held his breath and waited for it to pass. It did and he let the breath out in one long agonizing swoosh.

  Jay gave him a look of concern before he answered. “They pumped you full of meds and fluids to get the crap out of you and they’ve been monitoring you closely ever since.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “It happened last night. It’s late afternoon now.” Jay gritted his teeth just then. “We are going to get this mother.”

  “I really want to believe that. I would love so much to take a baseball bat to the back of his head. That would make me feel just great,” Max said with mild amusement.

  “Damn,” Jay said with a chuckle.

  “Hey, I can get pissed and harbor revenge fantasies with the best of them,” Max replied.

  “Oh, my God. Are you ok?”

  The voice at the door belonged to Detective Roberta Gellar.

  Max could not believe she was there as he watched her paused in the doorway, her hair billowing slightly behind her from the air conditioning vent in the hallway a few feet back. She looked momentarily like some sort of superhero come to take away the pain and misery that he felt.

  Gellar moved over to his bedside and leaned over to take a better look at him. Out of the corner of his eye Max saw Jay smiling and give him an “O” face. He quickly returned his expression to normal a fraction of a second before Gellar looked at him. Max felt his heart might explode in his chest right then. Jay was a moron.

  “What happened?”

  Jay filled Gellar in on the poisoning incident. She seemed a bit relieved when she learned that Max was expected to recover fully without any issues.

  Gellar sat down to talk business. Max could see it coming because she all of a sudden got that cop look on her face. But it was still damn sexy.

  “Have you guys ever heard of someone named Declan Hamilton?” Gellar asked.

  Jay and Max looked at each other briefly and shook their heads.

  “No, why?” Max asked.

  Gellar told them both about how she tracked Declan down and that he had been at the premiere screening of their film. And then she told them about the conversation she’d had with him. And then she told them how he blew his brains out for no apparent reason two seconds after he slammed the door in her face.

  “Holy shit!” Jay said.

  “So, was he our guy? Is that why he killed himself?” Max asked.

  “I don’t think he was. But he was mentally disturbed and never should have been let out of the psych ward. His doctor’s gonna have some answering to do.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yea. I guess he thought there was a chance that we thought he was guilty, even though I told him he wasn’t being charged with anything. We don’t have any real evidence on him. I guess the fear was too much and he shot himself.”

  “It’s just as well. What the hell is a loony like that doing with a gun?” Jay asked.

  “They traced it to a purchase at an online auction. Almost anybody can get a gun nowadays,” Gellar said.

  “So, we are back to square one on this thing?” Max asked. He felt the wind flying out of his sails at record breaking speed.

  “I’m afraid so,” Gellar said. “But we will find something.”

  “I know what that means,” Jay said.

  “Oh, enlighten me,” Gellar said taking offense to Jay’s lack of faith.

  “Well, there hasn’t been any evidence that can pin someone to this shit. So we basically have to wait until they do something else and hope that he makes a mistake this time.”

  Gellar let out a rough sigh of annoyance. Max wondered if it was because Jay was basically right or because Jay was disagreeing with her.

  “The killer has made a mistake already; they always do. But sometimes the mistakes are not so easy to find.”

  “That sounds cliché,” Jay said.

  “Maybe,” Gellar said, turning away from Jay and focusing back on Max. He loved it when those sexy eyes of hers focused on him. He was feeling better already.

  “We will find who did this to you,” Gellar said with a slight smile.

  “I know,” Max said. Of course he knew no such thing and he really didn’t feel any better about the situation. Still it helped having Gellar there. He was starting to feel much closer to her than he probably should have been feeling, but with what happened to Lori it was easy to let himself reach out to someone to fill that void. And Gellar was amazing. But did she feel the spark that he felt? Or was all that in his vivid imagination?

  Max’s phone vibrated just then. He reached for it instinctively.

  “Wait!” Gellar said.

  “What?” Max asked.

  “Remember the trace we put on your number?” Gellar asked.

  Max had actually forgotten all about that. They had contacted his phone company to research the phone records to see about tracing the sender of the threatening texts he’d received. Texts were apparently much harder to trace than calls and of course they’d come up with nothing. But with a phone call they might have a shot. Although if the killer was using a burner phone then it was useless to trace the number, but if he could keep the bastard on the phone long enough for them to pinpoint and triangulate the location then they might have him.

  Max waited until the third ring. That was the magic number necessary for the trace to be effective.

  He picked up the phone and answered it carefully. “Hello,” Max said.

  “Are we feeling a bit under the weather?” That same muffled voice that he’d come to dread. He could hear that evil voice in his nightmares. It was worse than dreaming about Freddy Krueger.

  “Oh, I’ve had better days. How are you?” Max said.

  The voice cackled. “That’s the spirit. You are a smart ass right until the end.”

  “Well, I do have my spirit,” Max quipped. He wondered if he should knock off the Abbot and Costello routine. It might result in a pissed off hang up and an even more pissed off murder.

  “If I wanted you dead, you would be. Both of you,” the voice said.

  “I don’t doubt that,” Max said. “I do appreciate the generosity though.”

  Jay gave him a “are you out of your mind?” look and Gellar tapped him on the arm. She was glaring at him with the same kind of question on her face.

  “Do you know what it is like to have something that belongs to you taken from you? Do you have any idea?”

  “What are you talking about?” Max asked.

  “Oh, you don’t know? Well, I’m sure your friend does. I think you have a lot to talk about.”

  “What? What does Jay have to do—“

  “I’ll be in touch,” the voice said before the line went dead.

  Max sat there staring at the phone in his hand for several seconds trying to make sense of the cryptic conversation that just happened. Why did this maniac have to speak in riddles and why did Max suddenly have the impression that there was so much more to this thing that he had no idea of.

  And what did Jay have to do with it?

  “Did
you have him long enough to do a trace?” Jay asked Gellar.

  She was on her phone calling to check the status. “Just a sec,” she told Jay.

  “Tracy, can you run a check on that phone call to Max Collins’ cell?” Gellar asked. “Thanks,” she said as she waited.

  The room was silent for almost thirty seconds until Gellar’s eyes lit up for a moment and she appeared to be listening to someone. She nodded her head a few times and told Tracy (whoever the hell that was) goodbye.

  “Well?” Max asked. “What’s the verdict?”

  “She says that there was no way to trace the call. It is from an unregistered pre paid cell phone. And she could not get a ping on the location either. So that is a big fat bust.”

  “Great,” Max said.

  “What did he say to you on the line?”

  Max told her everything that was said. When he finished they were both looking at Jay with enquiring eyes.

  Jay swallowed hard as the guiltiest look crossed his face.

  Chapter 7

  “Revelations”

  “I stole the script for ‘Ripper’,” Jay said.

  Max stared at him in disbelief for several seconds. He was trying to decide if Jay was at all kidding around here. But he knew Jay well enough to know that he was telling the truth. The bastard.

  “What do you mean you stole the script?” Max asked.

  Jay reiterated with exaggerated emphasis. “I STOLE THE SCRIPT.”

  “What the hell? What was all that about you having the dream and cranking it out in a long weekend. What were you thinking?” Max said.

  “I’m sorry, man. I was really blocked and knew we had a short window to make the movie. I’ve always wanted to make a real movie and knew that together we could do something great, if we had the right script.”

  “Ok, so who did write the script?” Gellar asked.

  “Henry Moran,” Jay replied.

  “Henry? Who is that?” Max asked.

  “He was a guy in my screenplay class. For our finals we all had to write a script. I tried and I tried, but I really just wasn’t coming up with anything.”