Night Hunter

by Carol Davis Luce

“It’s worth a try.”

  “I’m not going to the police.” A muscle in his jaw worked, jumping beneath the skin.

  “Well then, I don’t see how I can help you.” She turned to go into the building, but he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. With determination she added, “It’s the police or nothing.”

  He held her wrist for several more seconds, then released her. Without another word, he pivoted and strode off.

  He was hiding something, Regina told herself. That relaxed, easy attitude had disappeared. The misgivings she’d had about him before going to lunch today, now came back twofold. What was his true interest in all this? Why had he singled her out?

  If he was so gung-ho about helping them and solving the crime, he could do it on his own.

  At the main desk the receptionist held out Regina’s messages. She took them, reading as she headed to her office. One message was from Pandora Cudahay, the psychic, returning Regina’s call.

  Nolan approached her in the hall.

  “How’s Donna today?” she asked when he stopped.

  His face visibly blanched. He ignored her question and in a harsh tone said, “So you’re going through with it? What are you and Max trying to do, blow the whole thing so that when Donna is ready to come back there won’t be anything to come back to?”

  “You know better than that.”

  “We’ve never done the show live. Christ, you don’t know a thing about talent and yet you agree to improvise. No one is going to step in and save your ass when you freeze up out there. What you do, good or bad, reflects on Donna.”

  “I know that. I don’t want to take over the show. But I do have to keep it going. For Donna.”

  “Bullshit. You’re doing it for yourself. You got Max on your side. I don’t know how you did it, but I can damn well guess.”

  Regina bit her tongue to keep from saying what she felt. She stepped around him and continued down the hall.

  At her desk, she lifted the receiver, dropped her purse in the drawer, dialed the hospital, and asked for Donna’s room. The nurse on duty told her Mrs. Lake was not accepting calls or visitors. “She had a little setback today, but she should be better tomorrow.”

  Nonplussed, Regina hung up, wondering what had happened to Donna. Nolan would know, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of refusing to answer her.

  Forcing herself to put aside her personal business and get back to work, she dialed Pandora’s number.

  “Hello, Pandora,” she made her voice cheery, “it’s Regina. But then you knew that, didn’t you?”

  The woman laughed. “You give me too much credit, Regina. There are days when I wouldn’t give two bits for so much as a hunch.”

  “Are we on for tomorrow?”

  “We’re on.”

  “Do you have a vision of me pulling this show off?” The long silence on the line had Regina’s muscles bunching. “Pandora?”

  “I’m here,” the woman answered softly. “You should know, you’re more than a little clairvoyant yourself. Follow your intuition, Regina, it’s usually right on.”

  Regina swallowed. “Yes, I will. Well, see you at three o’clock then ... in the lounge.” Regina said goodbye and hung up, feeling, for only an instant, a panic-flash.

  At two o’clock Tammy unlocked the door to Gary’s house and let herself in. Earlier that afternoon, on the back of his motorcycle, Brad had taken her to Daly City to get her car, and after asking her for gas money, he had raced off with a promise to see her soon.

  Now, standing in the foyer, she called out, “Hello?” She knew Gary was at work because she had called him that morning to make certain he had gotten the girls to summer school. But it was possible Amanda was still in the house. Tammy speculated on what she’d do if she came face to face with her husband’s whore. Her “hello” went unanswered.

  In the kitchen she helped herself to a glass of red wine, washing down a Valium with it. Then, carrying the glass and sipping, she quietly wandered through the rooms, saving the master bedroom for last. When she opened the double doors and looked in she saw the bed made and the room neat and clean. A woman’s blue robe, draped across the foot of the bed, mocked her.

  Tammy moved in a daze to the closet. In the space where only four months ago her clothes had hung, another woman’s filled the void. There was something so foreign about the scene.

  She lifted a coatdress in a cobalt blue wool and examined the label. Anne Klein. Cottons and denims by Ralph Lauren. She ran her hand across rich leather and suede. Stroked the soft blends of mohair, angora, and cashmere. Sank her fingers in the fur of an ivory, long-haired lamb jacket.

  Tammy slowly backed out of the closet. She stood in the middle of the room, lost and confused. Looking into the mirror above the dresser, she wound her fingers into her hair and pulled hard until she groaned in pain.

  What was happening to her life? Everything was falling apart.

  It was Tammy’s bedroom, her quilted spread and matching drapes, but different now in both appearance and smell, tainted by someone else’s personal effects.

  She stepped to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. She found neat rows of satin and lace underwear in hues of flesh and peach and ivory. Lifting a full bottle of Joy, Tammy sniffed at the stopper, then dabbed the perfume at her temples and deep into her cleavage. She tipped the bottle. She would get Gary back. Perfume dribble out onto the pretty underthings. Gary wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Then, holding the bottle tightly, she swung her arm, shooting a stream of Joy across the room. This was the smell she had detected when she entered the room. It made her sick. This woman with her sophisticated clothes and scents was ruining her life.

  She threw the bottle at the bed and watched the perfume gurgled out onto the satin spread. Next she dumped the contents of the jewelry box on the floor and crushed earrings and pins under her shoes. With a strangled cry she rushed back to the closet and dashed the entire contents of red wine over the lamb jacket. She ripped every one of the bitch’s clothes from their hangers, tossing them out into the bedroom. She stumbled to the rolltop desk and, with tremulous fingers, grabbed scissors, black felt markers, and a tube of glue.

  She giggled as she moved to the pile of clothing. She hadn’t done this since she was a little girl. Marking, cutting and pasting scraps of cloth had been her favorite pastime.

  CHAPTER 22

  Amelia drove, oblivious to the terraced hillside vineyards on each side of the highway. Just moments ago she had dropped Matthew at the Meadowvale Country Club. With a lesson and eighteen holes of golf, she estimated he would be tied up for approximately five hours. She hoped she could finish what she had to do and make it back in time. Her husband was not the most patient of men, and to keep him waiting after allowing her this minuscule measure of freedom, not to mention the use of the Rolls, would be unwise.

  Five hours. Five glorious hours. Plenty of time.

  Tammy struggled to get through her third and last aerobic workout of the day.

  She pivoted sharply and her foot twisted under her, bringing her down hard on one knee. The thirty students on the floor paused, several stepping forward as though to help her, but she waved them away, settling down unsteadily onto the platform. Sitting now, her legs in second position, in a loud voice that sent screeching feedback over the PA system, she said, “We’re going down. Grab your mats.”

  The music stopped abruptly.

  Tammy looked over to see someone—Brad? Yes, Brad. She’d recognize those bulging, ropy biceps anywhere. His hand was on the recorder.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked. “Brad…” She looked out on the floor. Bright leotards bled together like a kaleidoscope. She blinked, trying to clear her fuzzy vision.

  “Go home, everyone,” he called out. “Your teacher isn’t feeling good. She’s too dedicated to her work to admit it, so I will.”

  They picked up mats, water bottles, and gear and filed out slowly, looking curiously at Tammy and Brad.

/>   When the last of them had gone, Brad lifted Tammy off the platform.

  “Oooh, you’re so strong,” she said, arms wrapping around his neck to cling tightly.

  “You’re drunk and probably stoned. G’wan home.”

  “Take me home, Brad. I’m scared. She began to cry, her face twisting unattractively. “Someone’s out to get me.”

  “Goddamit, straighten up.” He shook her. “I’m not playing nursemaid to you. Take a cold shower. Get your act together and get outta here.” He marched off, banging the metal door against the wall as he went out.

  Tammy was too stunned to move. “Brad?” she called out “Brad!” She collapsed against the platform. Everything went black for an instant. She struggled to stand.

  What was she going to do? What? She’d call Gary, that’s what. He’d come and get her and take her home to their house in Sunset. They were such a happy family. Gary, Sherry, Kerry, and Warrior. Something about Warrior disturbed her, but she quickly dismissed it.

  She stumbled, then weaving erratically, found her way into the vast locker room and pool area.

  Tammy unconsciously took in her surroundings. Two women were in the Jacuzzi chatting, the window in the door of the sauna was fogged and dewy with condensation. Someone was probably inside.

  At her locker she bent down and fished a quarter from her change purse. She straightened, clutching at the cold metal of the locker as a dizzy, sickening sensation washed over her. She braced herself, moaning.

  At the pay phone she leaned against the wall. She dropped the quarter in and dialed.

  Regina listened attentively as Tom repeated the cues for commercial breaks and camera-angle changes, cues she knew well on the other side of the camera. Seated in the chair alongside her was the psychic Pandora Cudahay. Since Pandora was accustomed to radio and television and her self-assured attitude could only give Regina a boost of confidence, Max suggested the show open with her on the set.

  At the station several things had gone wrong. Some of the crew had been given conflicting instructions, the time of the show had been confused, telephone props misplaced and, too close to airtime to be comfortable, found on another set. Regina suspected Nolan had a hand in these setbacks.

  Lack of sleep had Regina keyed up, tense. Tammy, soused on wine and glassy-eyed from Valium, had kept her awake half the night weeping and lamenting over her husband. Sometime around 3:00 a.m. she had passed out on the couch. Regina had been afraid to leave her alone that afternoon, but Tammy had recovered enough to go to the gym to teach her aerobics class.

  Regina was wearing one of several new outfits that Kristy had helped her select when she learned she was to fill in for Donna. This one, a sea green linen skirt and cropped jacket, now seemed too confining. Pinpricks of perspiration broke out on her face and she wondered if the heavy makeup Candie had applied moments ago would come running down her face before the show even got underway.

  She looked over at Pandora. The woman’s pleasant face, framed by curly ginger hair, the collar of her white blouse buttoned at her throat and encircled with a red and black plaid ribbon tied in a neat bow, calmed her. Pandora smiled and reached out to pat Regina’s hand. The instant her fingers touched the back of Regina’s hand, her smile disappeared and something disturbing flashed in her eyes. Then she was smiling again and her eyes looked away and Regina felt a slamming sensation in her heart.

  “What?” Regina whispered to the psychic.

  “It had nothing to do with you, Regina. It was something else. Really.”

  Regina wanted to believe her. She drew in a deep breath, forcing herself to relax.

  The lights keyed up and Stork was snapping his fingers and counting down and suddenly the red light on camera one was on and Stork was pointing a finger at her.

  “Hello, I’m Regina Van Raven, today’s hostess for ‘City Gallery.’” Her delivery had been in a monotone, and her face, she knew, was as expressionless as her tone. She smiled. “Our guest today is psychic Pandora Cudahay. We’re coming to you live this afternoon so that you, our viewing audience, may call in with your questions for Pandora.”

  Before taking the first call, Pandora spoke of predictions that had come true, spiritual cleansings, intuition, metaphysics and crystals, flavoring all with fascinating anecdotes. Regina listened, thankful that this woman was such a pro. Time passed quickly. Regina broke for a commercial.

  “Don’t look so stricken,” Pandora said to Regina when the camera’s red light went off. “You’re doing great.”

  “I must remember to compliment Donna. This is damn tough.”

  “You’re doing just fine.”

  One by one the buttons on the telephone began to flash.

  Regina pointed at the panel of chaotic lights. “Looks like the show’s all yours now.”

  The camera’s red light glowed again.

  Donna stared transfixed at the elevated TV, watching the first live telecast of ‘City Gallery’ with Regina as host. Regina had wanted Donna to do the psychic show as she was doing it now, but Donna had been terrified of live TV. Though she rarely goofed up, having that extra margin of insurance, the ability to reshoot and edit, had spoiled her.

  Donna studied the screen. Regina looked calm and cool and refreshingly lovely in a new outfit. What happened to the shapeless layers of drab khaki and the frizzy hair, she wondered with a tinge of sarcasm? It was obvious she had allowed Candie to make her up for the show. She was stunning. Donna felt a rush of envy and distrust.

  Why was she thinking such disparaging thoughts? After all, she had insisted Regina fill in for her. What was wrong with her? Since the assault, her sensitivity reared high, her mental state plummeted. She had begun to take it out on the nurses and doctors, snapping and brooding. She felt helpless, irritable, and filled with an inner rage.

  She pushed her mean thoughts away and willed herself to listen. Regina was saying that Donna Lake was doing fine, that Donna thanked everyone for their prayers and get well wishes, and that KSCO hoped to have her back soon. Cheers were heard in the studio.

  Donna felt tears well up. She looked in the corner at a box of letters. The mail from her fans came in daily. She hadn’t felt much like going through it. Maybe tomorrow. Tom had offered to lend a hand. Tom was so helpful, bringing the mail from the station every day. His pleasant face, his warm smile, were like a soothing balm. Until the assault, she hadn’t realized just how important Tom Gansing was to her.

  Tammy heard the ringing, then Gary’s voice giving instructions to leave a message. Why did he have his machine on? It seemed lately he always had the damn machine on. A beep. She struggled against the dizziness.

  “Honey,” she said, “it’s me. Pick up the phone.”

  A moment later a young voice said, “Hello? Momma?”

  “Sherry?”

  “No, it’s Kerry.”

  She never could tell the two apart on the phone. “Hi, honey. Is Daddy there?”

  “Momma, you didn’t do it, did you?”

  “Do what, honey?”

  Tammy heard muffled mumbling on the line. She stared blankly at the woman who was climbing out of the pool. She glanced over to the Jacuzzi. It was empty, the bubbles dying down beneath a layer of foam.

  Gary came on the line, his tone hard. “I ought to have you arrested —no, committed. For good this time.”

  His words made no sense to her. “Honey, I need a ride home. I’ve had a very bad day and ... and —come and get me, please.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I just told you I had a bad day. I’m coming down with something. I don’t think I can cook tonight. We’ll pick up a roasted chicken at Crandall’s on the way home.”

  After a long pause, Gary said. “Where are you?”

  “At the center. Where else would I be?” The receiver slipped from her fingers and clanged on the floor. She giggled, hauled it up by the cord, and spoke to Gary again. “Ouch, did that hurt? I dropped you.”

  “Listen to
me. Listen carefully,” Gary said. “I’ll come, but only if you agree to let me take you to see the doctor.”

  “Doctor? It’s nothing serious. A flu, maybe.”

  “I’m talking about a psychiatrist.”

  She closed her eyes, felt nauseated, and quickly opened them, rolling around to put her back to the wall. The women from the Jacuzzi passed, staring at her, then exchanging glances between themselves.

  Tammy waved at them. “Are you coming now?” she said into the receiver.

  “Did you hear me? If I come, you go with me to see Dr. Channing. Today.”

  “I heard, Gary. I heard. We’ll get some pasta salad to go with the chicken.” She hung up the receiver. There, she already felt better. Gary was coming for her. “Better get dressed,” she said aloud. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  She chattered on inanely while she dressed. She considered showering, but she had no strength, no will for things of little importance. When she got home she’d have the girls run her a nice hot bath with some of those lilac crystals they’d gotten her for her birthday. Gary would just have to do the dinner dishes or let them go till morning when she felt like her ol’ self again. He hated doing anything domestic so he’d leave them for her. Thinking how helpless Gary was in the kitchen made her laugh.

  The sound of her laughter echoed throughout the large, humid room. Sitting on the bench in front of her locker, she paused in putting on her shoe. She laughed again, louder this time so she could hear the echo better. She threw back her head and laughed, forcing it out, filling the room with a baying, yet not unpleasant sound.

  She wriggled her bare foot into a red pump.

  The laughter rolled through the room.

  She chuckled at the strangeness of it. The other pump gave her more difficulty, but she worked it on.

  Now the laughter was discordant, eerie. Tammy looked up, startled.

  “Hello?” she said.

  The word hung in the air.