Reel to Real

by Joyce Nance

  John furrowed his brow and looked at Shane. “You’re fucking full of shit, you know that? Why you wanna be dragging me into your bullshit? I don’t need you making me more trouble.”

  “There’s no trouble. I’m just sayin’, if he asks you questions, just tell him you gave me the money. That’s all.”

  John didn’t respond except to bunch up his forehead and walk back into the theater. Shane decided not to push things any further and also went back in. The four of them watched the rest of the movie without further incident.

  As it turned out, Jason did not ask John any questions about how or where Shane obtained his money.

  Wednesday, March 6, 1996

  A phone rang in the darkness and Esther fumbled for the receiver.

  “Hello?” she said, looking at the clock. 5 AM.

  “You haven’t told him anything have you?”

  She recognized the voice. Barely awake, her body tensed.

  “No,” she said, glancing over at John, asleep with a pillow over his head.

  “You better fucking not.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Cause if you do, I’m gonna know and you will die.”

  Click.

  Esther lay face up, eyes wide open. Except for the gyrations of her gut twisting itself into a multitude of tiny knots, she was motionless.

  At six, her alarm went off. Grateful to have somewhere to go, she got ready for work and left, forgetting to kiss John goodbye.

  ***

  Even though it had been several days, yellow crime scene tape still surrounded the Hollywood Video’s parking lot. Gawkers still gawked, standing as close as they could to the store, trying to get a look. The mood was reserved.

  Chapter 22

  “The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.”

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

  Four hours after Esther left for work, John woke up. He slid a cold piece of pizza into the microwave along with a mug of instant coffee. That was breakfast.

  He tried calling Shane but got no answer. Bored, he flipped through a writing tablet he found behind the sugar on Esther’s kitchen counter. In the tablet, he discovered a letter written to another man. It was addressed to someone named Teddy Bear. Apparently, it was someone Esther knew from Hobbs, New Mexico.

  The letter was sexually explicit, and after reading it, John’s blood boiled.

  ***

  The massive manhunt continued. The gunman or gunmen were still on the loose as hundreds of police personnel raced to gather and analyze clues after Albuquerque’s deadliest shooting. Law enforcement, with the help of K-9 units, scoured for evidence at the Hollywood Video store as well as the remote mountain location where the grandparents’ bodies had been discovered.

  So far no one had been taken into custody, but many had been questioned. The number of police assigned to the case underscored the urgency of locating those responsible. Officials wanted the public to know they were utilizing every resource possible. They wanted citizens to rest assured that no expense was being spared to find the killers.

  “We will turn over every rock to locate the people responsible,” police spokesperson Ed Cady said.

  Residents were warned to lock their doors and remain on high alert for any suspicious activity.

  "I just hope and pray they find the people responsible," Amy Ziegler said. "Nobody should have to go through this."

  Because victim Jowanda Castillo was a Highland High School student, counselors and support staff were made available at that school.

  ***

  Tom Victor, who lived near San Mateo Boulevard, took it upon himself to hold a candlelight vigil to honor the slain video store workers. He spread the word among his friends and acquaintances, and it caught on like wildfire.

  The local TV and radio stations got wind of the event and announced the details on the air. Tom wanted it to be held at the Hollywood Video site despite the fact that it was still a designated crime scene.

  There were so many people at the vigil, there was hardly room to stand. People brought roses, mums and violets and some even clutched pictures of the victims. Flickering candles were everywhere.

  Shane also heard about the candlelight vigil and asked Jason to make the drive with him to the store. On the way, Shane got excited. His mouth dropped open and his hands flailed wildly, almost like someone having a seizure.

  “Hey dude, check it out!” he cried, pointing. “That’s that van they’re looking for. It just cut down that street over there. Looks like some super scuzzy guy driving it, too.”

  “What are you talking about?” Jason asked, peering toward the direction Shane indicated.

  “The black van, dude. The one with the X on it. The one the cops’ve been trying to hunt down for the Hollywood Video thing. It just flew right by us. It turned down that street right over there.”

  Jason squinted. “I didn’t see it, man.”

  “Well, we gotta do something. Should we chase it? Maybe we should call the cops?” Shane squeezed the steering wheel. “Dude, what should we do?”

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Let’s just leave it alone, man. We don’t need to get involved in that. Do you really want to be talking to the cops? About anything? That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  Shane took a deep breath. “Yeah, you might be right. Okay, let’s forget it then. Let’s just drive over to the thing like we said and check it out.”

  When Shane and Jason finally got to the candlelight vigil, Shane had second thoughts. He saw throngs of people and TV cameras everywhere. There was a lot of hubbub. He started thinking maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to be seen at that particular location by that many people. Might jar someone’s memory.

  “You know what, dude?” he said, scratching his ear, “I don’t really like big crowds. If you don’t care, I’m gonna head back home.”

  ***

  Home from work, an exhausted Esther dropped her purse onto the floor and headed to the kitchen. She could only mumble something that sounded like a hello.

  John responded with a huff.

  Esther didn't notice the huff. “It’s hot in here,” she complained and yanked open the kitchen window. She then did what she had been doing almost nonstop since John arrived: she switched on the television news and sat down.

  John strode to the TV and blocked it with his body, nostrils flaring. He had Teddy Bear’s letter clenched in his fist.

  “What’s up with this?” he said, waving the lavender stationary in the air. “Who’s this fucking Teddy Bear guy? I never heard about him before.”

  Esther’s eyes blinked and then opened wide, focusing. “Wha-at?” She softly scratched the back of her head. “Oh that? That’s nothing. We were just writing each other.”

  “What do you mean 'just writing'? This shit’s way more than just writing.” Veins pulsed in his neck. “You say in this letter that you want to bump uglies with this dude.”

  Esther shook her head, her mouth twisting. “It’s not what it sounds like. I was just teasing him and besides, that’s from a long time ago. I didn’t even meet you yet.”

  “Well, I’m pissed,” John said. “I feel like you misled me, and I don’t have any way of knowing if what you’re saying now is true or not. You could be saying crazy shit just to throw me off.”

  “I’m not trying to throw you off. He was my drug connection. He lived on the same street as me. Believe me, once I met you, I completely forgot about him.”

  “It sure doesn’t seem like it. I just don’t know what’s true anymore.”

  Esther assured him she was telling the truth. She told him she loved him more than anything, and he shouldn’t worry. He looked doubtful.

  “It was just a stupid letter. I wrote it like five months ago. I never even sent the damned thing, that’s how nothing it is.”

  “If it’s so nothing, why did you hide it behind the sugar?”

  “I did not hide it behind the sugar. It must've fell behind the sugar ... on accident.”
Esther held her hands out. “Like I told you, I wrote it and then I forgot about it. It’s not important to me.”

  John wouldn’t let it go. The more Esther tried to clarify things, the madder he got. John accused her of not loving him anymore, so she started over again with her explanation.

  “I swear, it doesn’t mean anything,” she said, massaging John’s bicep, looking up at him.

  “I don’t want to hear anymore of your bullshit,” John said, pushing her off.

  He told her it was probably better for everyone if he just left and went back to Colorado. He said he felt he was already so far in the hole regarding the police that if he made even one false move, he would be arrested. He could not afford the attention.

  “I need you to be with me.” Esther grabbed his hand.

  “The hell with you,” John replied, pulling away. “I’m forced to be on the run, and that’s because of you. I don’t want to get thrown in jail, too. I need to get the fuck out of this fucking town.”

  He stormed into the bedroom, throwing his shirts and pants into a suitcase. While he packed, he heard a noise that sounded like a cross between a howling wolf and broken washing machine. He recognized the noise as Esther crying but did not stop packing.

  ***

  Esther blinked back tears and hugged herself tight. It was crunch time. She had to do something — something big — to stop John from leaving. She needed a game changer, and quick. Somehow, some way, she needed John to understand that he belonged with her and not with that other woman.

  John stood in front of her with bag in hand. Esther told him she would do anything to get him to stay.

  “Yeah, right,” he grunted and picked some unknown substance from his ear. “You have this guy and that guy. You don’t need me.”

  “I do need you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I do.” Her voice broke.

  The conversation churned back and forth for several minutes, with John yelling and Esther wailing. Finally, the crying stopped and the room got quiet.

  “You have got to stay,” Esther said in a voice just above a whisper. “I have done things for you,”

  John stared at her, arms crossed.

  Esther’s lower lip quivered.

  “Well, woman? What is it?”

  Even though the drapes were already drawn, Esther scrambled over and yanked on the cable again, making sure no one could see in or out. She turned off the light, and in almost total darkness she pulled John down on the couch, holding his large dark hand with her small pale one.

  “I gotta tell you something that I’m not supposed to tell you,” she said, frowning. “But before I do, you have to promise, and I mean double promise, you won’t tell anyone. Ever.”

  “What is it?”

  “You have to promise.”

  “It’s not going to change anything,” John said. “But if you got something to tell me, I want to hear it.”

  “I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone,” Esther begged.

  John turned his head slightly, thinking. “Okay.”

  “To anyone ever.”

  “Yeah.”

  With her eyes closed, Esther swallowed hard and told John she had done something bad. Something with Shane.

  The moment she mentioned Shane's name, John had a negative reaction. He stood up and glared down at her. But she kept talking. She told him about the Mac’s Steak in the Rough robbery, describing it in detail. She said the money John had received was really her money; it had not come from Shane.

  John slammed his fist into the wall. Sheetrock particles scattered and then fell to the floor.

  “I don’t give a fuck who it was that sent me money,” he said in an angry voice. “I cannot believe you did a robbery with fucking Shane. I fucking told you to stay out of trouble.”

  He turned his back on her, not speaking. Esther mumbled a couple of incoherent words but he cut her off; told her to shut up. He peeked out of the closed drapes and lit a cigarette, exhaling slowly. “I told you from day one I did not want you doing any law-breaking. It doesn’t help me if you get busted and get your ass thrown in jail. You shouldn’t be messing around with that fucking hippie-dude Shane anyway. He’s a punk. He doesn’t know his dick from a hole in the ground. If I didn’t bail his sorry-ass out of trouble a bunch of times when we was in the joint, he’d be dead already.”

  “I thought he was your friend,” she said.

  “He’s not my fucking friend. I know him. I do stuff with him, but he’s not my friend. He’s just supposed to be the fucking go-between; the goddamn messenger, nothing else. He’s not good for nothing else. He’s got no fucking brains. He thinks he’s smart, but trust me, he isn’t.”

  She looked up and started to say something but John kept talking, saying he wasn’t getting any respect from anyone that he was supposed to be able to trust. He said he needed to leave town.

  Esther sat there with her hands clasped.

  “I did it all for you, you know,” she said quietly.

  “Man, I don’t want to hear that,” John said. “That’s real stupid, what you did. You know that? Real dumb. What if you woulda got caught? How would that help me?”

  She told him she was sorry; she said she had spent the past month trying to accumulate money so they could get back together.

  “I love you, John,” she said again. “No one else. I’d do anything for you.”

  He kept shaking his head, and told her he didn’t believe a word she said.

  Esther’s mind was exploding with problems. Obviously, John was not impressed with her money raising efforts. Confused, she picked at the side of her face. Her mind raced backward in time, struggling to say just the right something that would impress him.

  Finally she said, “I’d even kill for you.”

  John’s eyebrows pinched together.

  She looked at him, trembling.

  He turned his head the slightest bit, in anticipation.

  “And I have,” she said, forcing her voice to sound steady.

  ”Ri-ight,” John said skeptically.

  “You know the video thing?” she continued, stone-faced.

  “What video thing?”

  “The video thing.”

  “Huh?”

  “The Hollywood Videos. The fucking Hollywood Videos. The thing that’s on the news all the fucking time. It’s on right now,” she said pointing at the TV. “We did that.”

  “We who?”

  “Me and Shane. Me and Shane did the fucking Hollywood Video thing.”

  She began to sob uncontrollably, her body shaking. John grabbed her shoulders and told her to shut up. With effort, she scaled back the crying and started walking in circles around the apartment. After a time, she stood still and in a flat, matter-of-fact voice said, “Yeah, I did it. Shane made me do it. He killed the kids at the store and then he made me drive out to the mountains and kill the grandparents.” She sucked in a big breath. “But I did it for you. ’Cause I love you. i was the one that got all that money for you. It was me. I got the money. It wasn’t Shane.”

  John looked at her with tired, yellowed eyes and said, “You’re a damn liar woman. You ain’t did shit for me. You may have did it for Shane but you didn’t did it to impress me. You did it to impress him.”

  Esther started crying again. “You don’t believe me?” she said.

  “I don’t believe shit from you.”

  “We were up in the mountains,” she said in a low husky voice. “It was late. Real late. Shane made the grandparents drive up there. We stopped in the middle of nowhere. We got out of the car and Shane said to me, ’I shot the kids, you go ahead and shoot the old people.’ And I did.”

  John slumped down on the couch as he listened. He said later he felt like she was probably making it up because the details were too vivid; that there was so much detail, it had to be a lie.

  “Shut up. Just shut up,” he kept saying. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

 
But she kept talking. “You don’t believe me, huh?”

  She gave him more details. She told him Shane killed three people inside the store and repeated how she had killed the McDougall’s.

  She shot the grandfather, she said, with a 12 gauge shotgun, and a few minutes later, she shot the grandmother, too. The first shot was to her head. She told him how when she pulled the trigger to kill the grandmother, it didn’t discharge because there wasn’t a round in the chamber. She said that Shane later fired a bunch of additional shots into the grandparents with the TEC-9.

  After Esther finished, John sat quietly and dabbed his forehead with a paper towel. John hated to admit it, but he was beginning to believe her. His face tightened as he took in the information.

  “Where’s the guns?” he asked. “Did you get rid of ’em? Did you at least get rid of the damn evidence?”

  “Shane has ’em, I guess,” Esther replied, eyes vacant. “That’s the last place I saw them. They were at his house.”

  “Do you know where he’s keeping them?”

  “As far as I know, he still has ’em in a duffle bag in his closet.”

  “Okay, that’s dumb. Told you he was a stupid motherfucker.” John grimaced. “Did you guys wear gloves?”

  “Yeah, I had on cloth ones and he had on surgical.”

  “So where’s the gloves now?”

  “At Shane’s. I left everything there except the clothes I was wearing.”

  “Okay, and what did you do with the clothes you had on?”

  “Well, I washed my clothes. I washed all of ’em, and my boots are in my closet right now.

  John’s stared at her, mouth open. “What? You’re shitting me? You still got those fucking boots?”

  “Yeah,” Esther said with a hangdog look.

  “We gotta get rid of those fuckers right now, babe,” he said, chastising her. “Go get ’em.”

  The creases on John’s forehead deepened as he waited. He had warned her to stay out of trouble and she didn’t do that. Not at all. Now she was in over her head, but he still felt responsible for her. He wanted to try to help.

  Esther scurried to the bedroom and brought back the boots. She dropped them on the floor in front of him.