The Video Store

by S J Sargent

  Molly glared. “Wait. Why are you asking?”

  “Oh. No reason. I’m just…curious.” Peter threw his hands up. “Trust me. I don’t know anything or, I’m not alluding to anything. I’m just asking what you would do if you had to find another job.”

  “I’ll go first.” Alex cut in before Molly became more paranoid. “I’d probably go apply at Pizza Zone. One of the guys in my theater class delivers pizzas there and makes like fifteen to twenty bucks an hour. Just to drive around town. Are you kidding me? That’s the dream job. And since Billy and Leslie own that one too, I bet they’d make sure there’s a spot for each of us if things did go south with Movie Madness.”

  “Twenty bucks an hour?” Peter’s face lit up. “That’s way more than we make here.”

  Alex crossed his arms and nodded. “Yep. Plus, you don’t really have to deal with customers. You just give them their pizza and drive off. No one ever even knows your name.” Alex stopped himself with an impeding thought. “By the way, how bizarre is it that people blindly open the door for a complete stranger if they’re wearing a pizza uniform? I mean, it could be anyone. If I were trying to rob someone, I’d just show up at their door with a pizza.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “So that’s the real reason you want to work at Pizza Zone…” Alex didn’t refute her.

  “Well, what about you?” he asked her back.

  “I don’t know. Unlike you, this isn’t my dream job. This is just the first place that called me back. I’d probably try to work in a coffee shop or be a waiter or something. Anything besides delivering greasy food…”

  Alex leaned towards her. “So what I’m hearing is, this is the last place we’ll probably ever work together.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “If the other option is pizza, then yes. It is!” She shook her head and grabbed a piece of bread out of the basket. They’d ordered and finished eating, but she was still a bit hungry. She’d skipped too many meals the past few days worrying about everything.

  “I was a waiter once.” Peter took another sip of wine. “For three months. I loved it. It was never a dull moment. Made crazy money on tips, too. The last night I ever worked there, I made over a hundred bucks on tips in four hours!”

  “Why’d you quit?” Alex challenged him.

  Peter looked into his wine glass, like a crystal ball. His head shook before words came out. “My dad had a bad experience with the boss.” He stopped, debating if he should continue. Molly and Alex waited. He bounced his head back and forth and then continued.

  “It was basically a deal gone bad. The guy tried to buy a car from my dad. I guess there was some type of dispute or argument about the price and the guy wanted to pay less than he should. I don’t know exactly what happened. All I know is that my dad called me as I was heading into a Friday night shift and he ordered me to quit. I was pretty pissed. I loved the job. I didn’t want to quit, and I didn’t think it was fair that I should have to just because my dad got into an argument with him.”

  “Right.” Molly nodded, giving him some much-longed-for affirmation. They shared a quick smile.

  “Right?” Now Peter’s hand was tapping on the table. “But that’s what my dad does. Even now. And I don’t even live with him anymore. It’s…ridiculous.”

  “…so what happened?” Alex asked.

  “I quit the next day.” Peter stared into the candle in the middle of the table. His emotions were still raw. “And the next week, I got a job at Movie Madness because he told me that it would be the last place in town that he would ever want to see his kids work.” Peter laughed as his eyes teared up. “Welcome to my family life.”

  The three sat in silence for a moment. Sofia, the owner, came by and cleared their empty plates.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation…” Alex smiled. “I told my dad this would be the first place in town I would ever want to work.” All three laughed. “I’m serious!” Peter sat back in his seat and took a rare deep breath, releasing some tension.

  Not long after, they headed back to the store. Standing in front was Detective Bolin on his phone. Once he saw them, he hung up. “Where were you guys?” he asked as he motioned to open the door. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for ten minutes now. Why did you close?”

  “It was my call,” Peter said. “Too much going on. So we decided it would be best to close early and head home as soon as we heard back from you.” Peter unlocked the door and let them all in from the cold, wet weather. Once inside, Bolin closed the door behind all of them and stood before it.

  “Well…” Bolin said. Hands on hips. “I wouldn’t be so quick to go home quite yet. I went over there and was able to get into Christine’s apartment.” The three now looked up at him and gave their full attention. This caused the detective to pause and smile for a moment. “You were right. She’s not there. And from the looks of things, she didn’t leave on her own accord.”

  Bolin waited for one of them to say something. Peter waited. Molly was already playing things out in her head. Alex was the one that finally spoke up.

  “And? Do you think there was a connection between this and Amy’s case?”

  Bolin nodded. “I have to assume so. We have to take every precaution right now. Her apartment has been officially turned into a crime scene, and the investigation is underway there as we speak. Until we find her, we have to assume these two cases are connected. Which means the Powers case is re-opened.”

  “…which also means your suspect in custody might not be…” Alex stopped talking, only because he already knew how Bolin would answer. His eyes darted over at Molly, who stared right back with trembling eyes. Alex quickly put his arm around her but knew he had said too much. The deep desire for him to need to figure out this murder case continued to disturb Molly.

  “The good news is we have a lot more evidence to work off of here. Including this.” Bolin held up her cell phone. His tone shifted a bit. “These texts might be able to shed some light on the story. Especially with looking at who her most recent texts are with.”

  Molly looked up. As did Alex. All three were now staring at the phone in Detective Bolin’s hand. Trying not to appear obvious, but doing just that.

  “You see…” He began as he shifted in front of the door to block their exit, his arms crossed as he stood in a power stance. “I can’t let any of you go home yet. Because as of about twenty minutes ago, you all became prime suspects in this case.”

  Part III

  The Suspects

  18

  Peter’s Interrogation

  Sunday, December 19 – 8:24 P.M.

  The return movie box was overflowing to the brim. One older customer tried to stuff her new release in the slot before closing time. She couldn’t even open the flap because it was hitting all the other last-minute returns. Usually, a staff member emptied it every few hours, but with all the commotion of the shift, Peter had neglected his normal tasks in the afternoon.

  The anonymous customer wedged her DVDs as far as she could in the slot, fully aware that they were still hanging out for any punk teenager to grab the next time they loitered on by. And there the DVDs would sit for the indefinite future as the Movie Madness staff were all being held at the Pecos police station for questioning.

  “We were just friends.” Peter’s eyes darted all over the place. “Coworkers, actually. Nothing more than that. I mean, she was a friend, but we all are friends here on the team…”

  Detective Bolin sat across from him. Waiting. Seeing if the silence would cause him to just keep rambling on like he was already doing. It was in the rambling when the good stuff came out. The truly honest stuff. It was in there, but the detective had to break through the layers of nerves, anxiety, and general discomfort that come from anyone he sits down with for an interrogation.

  “…I mean, yeah.” Peter nodded. “We were friends.”

  “Do you understand why I find it interesting that you were the last one to text her before she went missing? You had be
en engaging in a conversation with her leading up to the estimated time of her abduction.” Bolin paused. Peter refused eye contact. “Then the conversation went silent. You were the only one that would have known that she was home at that exact moment. You even verified it in a text moments before she was taken.”

  Bolin flipped through a paper and read the text message conversation aloud. “Peter. Ended up going with that conspiracy theory documentary. You? Christine. I’m watching that music bio show we talked about. It’s fascinating. Peter. Glad you made it home safely. Have a good night.”

  Bolin looked up at Peter. “You verified her location. And you verified that she was home alone. Why did you need to know her location?” Peter was too distracted by his nausea to answer. Bolin leaned closer. “Then, this. Christine. Are you still up? Sent less than two minutes before she tried to call the police. And you didn’t reply for eighteen minutes. Kind of odd timing for a delay in the conversation, don’t you think? Or maybe…convenient timing?”

  Bolin stared. Peter hated cops. A few years earlier, he got pulled over for speeding. They had planned to let him off with a warning, but his unsteady demeanor led them to think he was covering something up. They made him get out so they could do a full search. Nothing was discovered, except for the affirmation that Peter did not do well under pressure. Now being locked in this little room in the police station, he was trying his best not to have a panic attack.

  “Did you…” Peter tried to reply. “Look at the rest. I texted her like five times out of concern the next day. Why would I text her if I knew where she was?”

  “Exactly, Peter.” Bolin stood up and walked over to the side wall, where he leaned. “It was almost too rehearsed, don’t you think?”

  Bolin had this conversation before countless times. The only thing that changed was the person on the other side of the table. Different words but same guilt.

  Peter looked down. The detective’s questioning was working. Peter started to wonder if he really was guilty. His unease was punching him in the brain and telling him to give in. All he could do was start to cry. It was a pathetic scene for Bolin, but one he’d seen too often. A grown man breaks down after just a few questions with a lamp in their face. Not even a bright lamp. 75 watts.

  One semester from graduation with his MBA. All down the drain because of a text he sent at the worst time imaginable. All Peter kept picturing was his dad shaking his head on the other side of the prison bars. Looking back up at Bolin, reality slapped him in the face. He wiped away a tear and fought back.

  “…I thought…you had a suspect though.”

  “I did too.” Bolin paced away from him. “Until another girl went missing while he was behind bars. Explain that, Peter.” Bolin now crept back up to him so he was close enough to blow on him. “Here’s what I think happened. You liked her. That’s obvious. Head over heels. The banter back and forth with her. The playful check-ins. You liked her. Good for you. That’s normal. Just a typical guy on the prowl. But it’s hard when someone doesn’t like you back, isn’t it? Hormones are still kicking ahead at full steam, but they got nowhere to go…”

  Bolin was now inches from his face. Peter’s heart raced a little faster than when he ran the 400-meter in high school.

  “So, what’d you do? What do you do when you’re falling in love with a girl that isn’t feeling it? Do you take it into your own hands? Maybe. Depends on how desperate you are. If she won’t agree to sleep with you, then you make the call for her?”

  Peter now glared at Bolin with the force of a linebacker. He wanted to hit him, but he was helpless. He knew it. His hands weren’t tied up, but they might as well have been.

  “I’ve seen it too many times, Peter…”

  “Not this time,” Peter finally said. “Not this time. You’re wrong. You’re just…I can’t…you’re wrong…”

  Bolin stared, realizing he wasn’t going to get a confession. At least, not that soon. At best, Bolin was hoping Peter was the guy so he could finally close the case. In reality, though, he didn’t fit the profile. As Bolin gave him another up-and-down glance, he could just tell that Peter wasn’t the guy. Nothing in his demeanor felt evil. If anything, his blatant innocence was almost obnoxious.

  Plus, Peter’s texts on Sunday morning were his alibi. Most small-town killers wouldn’t bother trying to contact the victim a day later. Even if it was to cover tracks. That would have been inconsistent with all the texts he had leading up to the incident. It just didn’t line up.

  Bolin dismissed Peter and told him to call Alex in. He sat there, pacing from side to side while he adjusted his tie and regained his composure. If it wasn’t one of these three, then he wasn’t sure what his next move would be. Especially considering the suspect down the hall that had already confessed to the first abduction. What did all that mean now?

  Either that guy in the cell was lying and just gave a false confession, or there were two criminals out there. Bolin wasn’t sure which one was worse.

  19

  Alex’s Interrogation

  Sunday, December 19 – 8:39 P.M.

  Alex looked around the hallway of the police station. It was the first time he’d ever been in there. Unlike Peter, Alex was intrigued. Fascinated. He thought about the number of cases that had been solved in that building and the possibility of helping to add to one more. So many elements of the room reminded him of his favorite crime shows.

  On the wall was a collage of old cop pictures – dating back to before Alex was born. The good ole days, as some of the veteran officers would say as they walked through those hallways over the years. The pictures were an homage to Pecos’s history as a whole - and the rich tradition of low crime rate that the town had become known for all over the state.

  Until this past week, the only crimes you’d ever hear in the local news were about the community college students getting caught smoking weed behind the grocery store. Or the teenagers getting busted for trying to get a guy to buy them beer on a Friday night. Harmless really, compared to most towns.

  “Tell me what you know about Amy Powers.” Detective Bolin asked in his first series of questions to Alex. Alex was relaxed, almost excited to have to answer questions about the case thrown his way. He smiled.

  “Didn’t know her too well. We went to school together. I had, like, one or two classes with her in the past few years.” Alex shrugged. “I didn’t murder her…”

  Alex laughed. Now Bolin smiled.

  “Clever.” He sat down in front of Alex. Hands rested on the table in front of him. “Did you ever…spend any time with her in a social setting?”

  Alex shook his head quickly. “Nope. Different tribes. Nice girl, but we were just in different worlds. I couldn’t even tell you who her closest friends were. Until last week, she was just another girl in my high school. One that I knew nothing about beyond the fact that she would definitely finish higher in class ranking than me. But that’s not saying much.”

  “Just curious. Where were you last Saturday night?”

  Alex was getting disappointed. He had hoped this process would be more adventurous. More cutthroat and unpredictable. All the Criminal Minds episodes he’d watched over the years caused him to expect there to be more sophistication and psychology to this whole process. But what he got instead was the one measly detective this town’s police station had ever put on the payroll. And based on the pathetic lack of progress in this investigation so far, this might be the last that ever hit the payroll again.

  “I got off work at eight, picked up a two-dollar burrito, then I went home and watched the original House on Haunted Hill.”

  “Is that a movie?”

  Alex gave a snarky grin. “What’s it sound like…?

  “What’s it about?” Bolin asked.

  Finally. Some casual banter. This is how interrogations are supposed to go.

  “Rich guy invites five people to a party in his haunted mansion. Offers ten thousand dollars to whoever can stay in the house all
night. Then, crap happens. Like most scary movies.”

  “Any good?” Bolin acted like he was interested.

  “Yeah. It’s a classic. One of my favorites. I’ve seen it probably ten times. At this point, it’s one of those movies you watch when you don’t want to have to think.” Alex half laughed. “That’s part of the reason I watched it. I didn’t want to have to think after work.”

  Bolin hopped up and leaned against the wall. Casual. His routine. “So, you must like horror movies, then? I never got into them. I just feel like they are all the same…”

  “That’s like saying every crime is the same. It’s under the same umbrella. But they have completely different settings. And avenues. Completely different outcomes. Different twists. Different motives. The villains alone are what make scary movies so good.” Alex smiled as if he’d just remembered a fond memory. The evil characters always intrigued him. “That’s why actors say their favorite roles are when they get to play the villain. They are the most interesting parts of the story.”

  Bolin didn’t give anything more than a half-hearted grunt to Alex’s passionate defense. He tried not to look like he was stalling, but his fatigue was winning. Bolin had nothing on Alex, so he was digging for a gold nugget somewhere. And Alex seemed far too comfortable talking about crime and murder. He was more excited to be in the room than Bolin.

  Bolin decided to regroup for a few. He pointed to the door, dismissing Alex back to the hallway. Alex left, underwhelmed by the whole thing. As Bolin stayed in the room, he exhaled a sigh of defeat that was usually only reserved for a boy who’d just been turned down by his dream girl. Bolin was empty. He had done over twenty interrogations, just in the past week. More than in the entire year prior.