Pillow Stalk (A Mad for Mod Mystery)

by Vallere, Diane

  “What about Sheila?”

  “We’re still working on that.”

  “I think I can help you out.” I told Tex what Popov said, about Sheila finding him searching the house. Tex had known she was a wild child, but he hadn’t realized she was capable of blackmail.

  “After Sheila died, Popov must have convinced her mom that Hudson was guilty. She never considered anything else, until one day twenty years of bottled up rage and frustration over the fact that he still hadn’t found the reel caused Popov to snap. Thelma must have realized he killed her daughter. Before she could do anything, he killed her, too.”

  “What about Hudson?” I asked.

  “He’s not involved.”

  “Does he know you know that?”

  “If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.”

  “You should have listened to me.”

  “Night, don’t go there.”

  The funny thing was, despite what Tex thought, I didn’t want to go there either. Too many what ifs fluttered around us: what if he’d stayed at my apartment building instead of going on Richard’s wild goose chase after Hudson? What if I’d been better at asking for help? What if Hudson had cooperated with Tex long ago instead of hiding? What if Popov had had a few more seconds to hold that pillow down over my face?

  Tex moved his hand from Rocky’s head to my thigh and I didn’t push it away. It reminded me of how long it had been since I’d let someone touch me. And it wasn’t just physical touching I craved.

  I put my hand on top of his. “Where’d you find Rocky?”

  “In the dumpster. I wasn’t the one who found him. It was Donna.”

  “Who’s Donna?”

  “Officer Nast.” He said her name differently than before, softer. “She’s the one who gave him a bath. He didn’t smell so good when we fished him out. Someone in your building likes tuna. Or doesn’t, considering how much we found in the dumpster.”

  “And the cat?”

  “We found a black cat in your kitchen cabinet, next to an old popcorn popper. You never told me you had a cat.”

  “I don’t. I’m watching him for a friend who had to get lost for a couple of days.”

  This time Tex was silent.

  “So it’s over,” I said.

  “Mostly,” he answered.

  “Mostly?”

  “There are still a couple of loose ends.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Rest, Night. We had a guy look at your knee, and you’re going to need surgery, most likely, though you’ve proven me wrong before. Anyway, we’ll get into the other stuff later.”

  Officer Nast came to the doorway. Her long brown hair was loose. Soft waves framed her face and hung off to one side. She was out of uniform, and dressed the way Pamela used to dress when she wasn’t posing for a real estate flyer. Thin white T-shirt, low-rise jeans, hoop earrings. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders.

  “Allen, you coming?” she asked. Her green eyes sparked from across the room. I looked at him then her, and tried to figure out what had changed, and when.

  He sat on the bed, our fingers entwined. An IV was hooked up to my arm, and the liquid from a pain-killing drip made tiny plinking noises. Otherwise, the room was silent.

  “Go. It’s easier this way,” I whispered.

  He avoided eye contact and I knew. I knew neither one of us was in the right place to take on a challenge.

  He took two steps toward the door, then turned back around, his blue eyes clouded. He was going to move on, and I almost didn’t blame him.

  “It’s easier this way,” I repeated.

  “Maybe it’s time I stopped taking the easy way.” He walked out of the hospital room and left me alone with my puppy.

  A week later I was out of the hospital. My knee was still my knee. A replacement might be in my future but as long as they could make do with what God had given me, I wasn’t going to fight it. They wanted me to use a cane. I didn’t. They won. Taking Rocky for a walk was trickier now that one hand had to stay on the wooden prop.

  For the time being, my apartment was a household of three. Rocky, Mortiboy, and me, though I knew Hudson would soon come to collect his charge. He sent me a letter, explaining he had to go away for a while, but would be back. I knew he had sent a similar letter to Tex because the lieutenant told me, though I hoped the tone of that letter differed slightly from the tone of mine. But each day, when I got up to feed the cat and take Rocky for his morning walk, I looked up and down the street for a heavily primered blue pickup truck.

  Speaking of cars, my Alfa Romeo was returned, neatly backed into my space. I didn’t ask who had driven it over. The driver would have needed a ride getting home and there was a good chance that this was one project Officer Nast could do with Tex. It bothered me that the idea of them together bothered me. It made me think I was starting to feel things again, and that bothered me most of all.

  Rocky was out front, peeing on the lawn, when Tex’s Jeep pulled up and parked along the curb in front of the no parking zone. The perks of being a cop, I guess.

  “Night, we have to talk.”

  “I didn’t know our relationship had progressed to the point where that sentence was due,” I said, and immediately wondered about the casual manner with which I’d said ‘relationship’.

  He seemed not to notice, preoccupied with something else.

  “How’s your schedule today?”

  “Mostly open. I have an appointment with a new client at two and I’m doing a walk through with the Duncans at four-thirty, but other than that, nothing. Why?”

  He stopped about ten feet away from me and stood there, his face taut. I could see his teeth clenching, not because they were bared but by the subtle movement of his jaw.

  “What’s wrong, Lieutenant?”

  “Remember when we searched your car?”

  I nodded.

  “We found something. I couldn’t say anything until we figured out what it meant. Turns out it didn’t have anything to do with Popov or the Doris Day murders.”

  The Doris Day Murders. That’s what the press had been calling Popov’s killing streak. The Doris Day Murders committed by The Space Case, as the disgraced Russian had been labeled. It represented the fundamental flaw with creative license, that when it came to things like murder, there should be a journalistic rule against being too clever.

  “So why are you telling me? My part is done. I sacrificed my knee to help you stop a killer,” I said, trying, and failing, to keep my voice light.

  “Can you come with me? Now?” he asked, ignoring my tone.

  “Sure. Come inside and I’ll get my things.”

  Tex was more in emotional lockdown than he’d been since I’d met him. I wondered what had caused this shift. Was it Officer Nast? Or had all of the flirtation, all of his attention, really been about the murders? Had I simply been a means to an end?

  Inside the apartment I put Rocky in his crate and lifted my white wicker handbag. My uniform post injury had been a full skirt, boat neck T-shirt, and ballerina flats and today was no different. The fabric of the skirt swirled around my knees, covering the black Velcro brace I’d taken to wearing 24/7.

  I followed Tex to the Jeep and got inside. He drove up Gaston, continued up around the bend and turned left again on Lakeshore Drive. Two miles later he swung the Jeep into the Mummy parking lot. I looked at him, no words spoken, but questions evident in my expression.

  “We found something hidden by your spare tire. Did you put anything there, keep anything there?”

  “No.” The hair on the back of my neck bristled. “What did you find?”

  “One of our forensic guys found a reel of film when he went over your car. About six minutes’ worth. We thought it had something to do with Pam
ela Ritter’s murder.”

  “How did she get a reel of film into my trunk?”

  “She didn’t. It’s been there for awhile.

  “You’ve known about this all along? What’s on it? I mean, you watched it, right?”

  He looked away. “Yes, I had to. It turned up before we connected Pamela’s murder to Sheila’s. I was still on the case, and I had every reason to believe it was part of my investigation.”

  “But I’m guessing it didn’t, and I’m guessing it had something to do with me. That’s why I’m here, right? I can tell you I didn’t hide any film in my car, for what it’s worth, and I hope by now my word counts for something.”

  It seemed a pretty minor thing, a random loose end for him to use to visit me. Especially after the way I’d seen him interact with Officer Nast in the hospital. And it dawned on me, what this was. An excuse to see me.

  “Damn it, Lieutenant, you didn’t have to try so hard. Life isn’t really like a sixties sex comedy where you have to create an elaborate ruse to get my attention. If you wanted to come see me, just come see me.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  He got out of the Jeep and came around to my door, helping me get out. A week ago, I would have shaken off his assistance. With effort, I anchored the cane in the dirty driveway.

  We walked, slowly, into the theater. “Go inside and take a seat. I’ll be with you in a second.”

  “Tex?” I asked, wanting some kind of reassurance. He had no words to offer.

  The lobby was empty. So was the theater.

  “Take a seat, Ms. Night,” said an unfamiliar voice.

  I looked around, side to side, then up to the balcony. A short man in a rumpled coat stood by the projector.

  “This is for your viewing only. Technically what you are about to see belongs to the Pennsylvania police department, but Lieutenant Allen informs me that it pertains to you, so, as a courtesy, we will show you this footage. Once. It is his assumption you have not yet seen it.”

  “What’s this all about?” I asked.

  “Take a seat, Ms. Night,” said the booming voice again.

  I felt like Dorothy, commanded by the invisible Wizard of Oz. Tex stood next to the white-haired stranger and nodded at me. I slid into the end seat of the sixth row of the theater.

  A grainy image filled the screen. At first I didn’t know what I was watching. And then his face came into focus, staring into the camera, sitting in a brown leather chair that had at one time been my favorite chair. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, converse sneakers with his navy blue windowpane suit and light blue polo shirt.

  Brad Turlington.

  The married man I left behind in Pennsylvania.

  As his voice fed through the theater’s speaker system, my stomach turned with the cruel humor of making me watch him, larger than life on a twenty-foot screen. I wanted to get up and run out of the theater, but on so many levels, I couldn’t. I was paralyzed—no, crippled—both emotionally and physically, and this was the person who’d inflicted the deepest pain of all.

  Hudson had come face to face with his past, and Tex had his resolution, too. Maybe, just maybe, it was time for me to face my own demons.

  “Madison, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I lost you over this. You’re the only woman I’ve loved, honestly, truly. I’ve never known a woman like you. I wanted to tell you, tell you everything. I wanted to be honest with you from the minute we got back together but you were too perfect and I was in too deep. I was afraid to jeopardize everything.”

  The film crackled and every couple of frames it faded to orange but it was more riveting than a blockbuster. As much as I’d wanted to run only seconds before, now I was caught in the tractor beam of Brad’s charisma.

  “I’m sorry I lied to you. I wanted to tell you the truth so many times. I was going to tell you at the top of the mountain. But I saw them—they were there. When we went to the Poconos, when we got out of town, I thought we were safe. I told you I wanted us to get away from it all, and I meant it. I didn’t know they’d followed me. Us. And I knew if I told you, I’d bring you into it. I couldn’t do that to you. You were, are, the only thing that mattered. The only person that mattered.”

  He’d said these words before, but they were tainted. Tainted with the knowledge I wasn’t his one true love. His wife was. He’d said as much right before I’d skied away from him and the limited engagement he offered me. It had taken every ounce of self-respect to leave the one person who made me feel complete, but I was not willing to be a part of the relationship equivalent of a time share.

  He held his head in his hands. His shiny black hair, gelled into place with Top Brass, barely moved. He took his square glasses off and turned them over and over in his hands. It was a nervous gesture I’d seen him do before.

  I’d denied him the opportunity to apologize to me when I left. I’d cut off all contact with him. These were great lengths he’d gone to, to communicate his apologies on a piece of film he’d hidden in my car. It was selfish on his part to inflict this on me after I’d fought so hard to get over him.

  He put the glasses back on and stared directly into the camera. “Madison, listen to me carefully, because I can only say this once. I am not married. I never was. But I got myself involved with some bad people. I had to keep you safe. When I saw them at the top of that ski slope I knew they would come after you if they knew how important you were to me. Lying to you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but it was the only way to drive you away. I knew it would take you out of my life. I didn’t know you would hit that tree. It almost killed me not to be able to console you while you were in the hospital. But it was the only way—”

  His head snapped up suddenly, to the right of the camera. “No, NO!” he said to someone off-screen. He held his hands up as a defense mechanism. “Don’t do this!” he yelled. The camera tipped over and the screen went black.

  Four shots fired in rapid succession. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. The end of the film spun through the spool, slapping the take-up reel.

  “He’s—he’s dead? It’s over?” I asked the darkness, looking for answers.

  “Depends on your definition of over,” said Tex. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, to the balcony and the man in the projection booth. “According to him, your Brad Turlington is very much alive.”

  Reader’s Discussion Guide

  1. Is Madison Night asserting her independence by choosing to remain single, or is she possibly undermining herself by denying the feelings she has for the men in her life?

  2. Does Madison have good cause to distrust Lt. Tex Allen? Is Tex Allen trustworthy?

  3. From what we know of Hudson James: his quiet nature, his passion for his work, a reliable figure in Madison’s life, vs. his very guarded, private, almost mysterious persona, do you ever doubt his innocence or consider his possible guilt?

  4. Does Madison’s love and loyalty for all things Doris Day serve her or shield her? Has she submerged herself in an idealistic movie-life so she doesn’t have to deal with her own? Can she move forward or is she more comfortable in someone else’s past?

  5. Consider the relationship between Madison and Hudson: are they taking things slowly to develop a solid foundation for a relationship in the future, or are they both using the other as a crutch as they try to heal their own pasts?

  6. The night Madison “slept” with Hudson in the unrented apartment, did she reveal her true feelings for Hudson by staying by his side, or did she recklessly put her life in danger by staying with a wanted man?

  7. Tex Allen appears to be a classic womanizer. Do you think he sees Madison as a challenge or an equal?

  8. Is Madison’s method of studying the obituaries for potential estate sales creepy or smart?

  9. Consider the various similarities an
d differences between the following characters and what they might represent:

  Madison Night vs. Doris Day

  Hudson James vs. Tex Allen

  Mad for Mod vs. The Mummy

  Rocky vs. Mortiboy

  10. Madison has a handicap in the form of her knee injury but insists on regular exercise and on walking more than most people. Is she stubborn, determined, or in denial? Does this trait help or hurt her as she tries to figure out what is going on around her?

  11. Is it plausible that the laid back, movie and Mary Jane-loving Richard would betray his friends and coworkers because of the threat from Andreev Popov? Did he have any other choice?

  12. Andreev Popov: a man without a country and a climbing body count. Can we fully understand the importance of his reputation in his mother land, or the depth of his guilt for betraying it? Or is he simply a man gone insane?

  13. Much of what made Madison the independent woman she is is undermined by the truth she learns at the end of the book. How might this affect her?

  14. Who would you like to see Madison with? Tex, Hudson, or Brad? Why?

  From the Author

  Unlike Madison Night, I didn’t grow up watching Doris Day movies. I discovered them when I was going through a rough time in my life. It was during that time I lived in a small apartment in Dallas, Texas. While I tried to remain true to the Lakewood/White Rock Lake area, I fictionalized businesses and locations to create Madison’s world. I’m sure parts of what I remember fondly no longer exist, but in my memory, they always will.