Play Dead

by Leslie O'Kane

  Pavlov whined and tried to shove past him. I scolded her, but reasoned that she was only picking up on the incredible tension in the room. I wanted to bolt out of here myself, so how could I blame my dog for wanting to leave?

  In the meantime, Tracy flashed a huge smile Joel’s way. “Love ya,” she said just as he closed the door. She winked at me. “Show time! I figure I owe you this, for your having lousy taste in men and not falling for Joel yourself.”

  I had a major case of cotton mouth, but there was no backing out now. Moments later, Tracy was introducing me, and the next thing I knew, I was blathering about how I needed anyone who’d seen a muzzled collie in a white sedan to call the station, and that I knew the killer’s identity and would broadcast his name at precisely nine P.M. to the police and everybody else if he didn’t have Sage safe and sound at the station by that time.

  Before I’d finished speaking, Tracy said, “We’ve got our first caller. Russell? You’re on the air.”

  “Allida? Why are you doing this?” It was Russell Greene.

  “I’m trying to save a beautiful collie’s life. I want Sage back here safe and sound by nine P.M., or I’m broadcasting the killer’s identity.”

  There was a pause, then Russell said, “If the person who took the dog is out there, just call my cell phone, and I’ll come get him myself.” Worried for Russell’s safety, I shook my head wildly at Tracy as he continued, “Let me take the risks. My number is—”

  Tracy flipped a switch and said, “Sorry, Russell, but we need to keep the lines open for anyone with information about Sage’s current whereabouts. If we need you to act as middleman, my producer will call you.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  Tracy gave me a reassuring wink as she said into the microphone, “Once again, this is Tracy Truett, and I’m with Allida Babcock, dog psychologist here in Boulder who has just had her collie stolen. The collie can identify the killer of...who did you say, Allida?”

  “Beth Gleason. Also Hannah Jones. Her death was made to appear like a suicide but was actually a homicide.”

  “Right. Yes. This is where it’s happening on the airwaves tonight, I’ll tell you. So whoever’s got Sage, you’d better call in before it’s too late, or my petite friend here’s going to spread your name like margarine.”

  I furrowed my eyebrows, and she shrugged in an unspoken apology for her lame analogy. Greg must have made some remark to her over the earphones as well, for she made an obscene gesture to him through the window of the control booth.

  “My fine-feathered producer here has just notified me that we have another caller.” She pressed a button. “Hello, Mr. Caller person. I understand you didn’t want to give your name to my producer. Is there a reason for that?”

  In an ominous, low whisper, a male’s voice said, “Just wanted to ask Allida there if she’s checked her basement lately.”

  My heart leapt to my throat. “What do you mean?”

  “You know how easily these basements around Colorado can flood. Especially when you leave a tap outside running.”

  “Bring Sage back! Now!”

  He hung up.

  Tracy’s face had gone completely white. She signaled to Greg. “Let’s go to commercial break. Be right back with more on this breaking story.” Greg must have said something in her earphones, for she said, “Of course I know we don’t have any sponsors! I don’t care if you put on elevator music! I need a minute!”

  “Oh my God,” Tracy said, her face immediately damp with perspiration. “That was the guy, wasn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  “Tell me everything you know about him,” Tracy said, not meeting my eyes.

  “He met both Beth and Hannah through a vegetarian cooking class. He was trying to market a totally vegetarian dog food, and was...”

  I let my voice fade. Tracy had risen and was shaking her head.

  “We gotta get out of here!” she said.

  She’d once said she never forgot a voice. “You know who it is, don’t you?” I asked.

  She flipped a switch and pushed the earphone tighter against her head. She waved at Greg, who was rapt with something else and ignored her. Rolling her eyes in frustration she said into the mike, “Hey, there, Boulder. If mister Greg-head would help me out for a moment here, I was just about to suggest we put on a little appropriate music, such as, ‘Help Me Make It Through the Night,’ or ‘How Much Is That Doggy in the Window?’” Again she flipped a couple of switches, and said, “Greg?” into the mike.

  Greg was apparently speaking to somebody on the phone and couldn’t hear a word Tracy was saying. Suddenly, his jaw dropped. He tore off his headphones and left the control booth.

  I glanced at Tracy. “Christ,” she muttered, starting to cry. “Greg can’t hear us. He’s got the whole thing rigged. We’re toast!”

  My heart started to pound. There was only one person, other than Greg, who could have “rigged” anything at the station.

  Dear God! Joel must be planning to kill us all and frame Greg! I headed toward the door and asked over my shoulder, “Why did you lie to me about his alibi?” I tried to push the solid door open. It didn’t budge. I whirled around and tried the nearby door to the control room. Locked. “We’re locked in here!”

  “What do you mean it’s locked? The door to the hallway can’t be locked!”

  “It’s bolted from the outside!”

  The lights went out. Tracy let out an ear piercing scream. Pavlov barked wildly. A moment later a male voice cried in a singsong voice over the room’s loudspeakers, “And Bingo was his name-oh!”

  Chapter 20

  The blackness was all but absolute. The sound booth, hallway, and control room were all inner rooms, with no exterior windows. I stumbled back toward my chair. Across the table from me, Tracy Truett was making terrified whimpers. In the vicinity of the locked doors behind me, Pavlov was still barking.

  “Pavlov, cease!”

  She instantly stopped, but let out a low growl.

  “Why did you bring that big German shepherd with you, Allida?” the voice asked. “Do you think I’m going to let a little thing like a dog stop me from killing you?”

  He laughed. The disembodied and amplified voice in the blackness was terrifying. Pavlov was likely all that was preventing Joel’s immediate attack. Did Joel know how much better dogs can find their way through the dark than humans can? Maybe there was a way to use that to my advantage.

  I felt around the butcher block table for the phone. I grabbed the handset. There was no dial tone. I dropped it in disgust and said under my breath to Tracy, “You told me Joel was with you all afternoon. I believed you!”

  “I thought he was,” Tracy sobbed. “But I nodded out for a couple of hours. He claimed he did, too, but he must have drugged me.”

  At least this meant there was a slim chance Sage was still alive. Joel had had very little time to snatch Sage, ditch the white rental car, and get back to his house with no blood on his clothing in time for Tracy to be his alibi. Plus, Greg had said that Joel arrived almost the same time he did...and again, no blood on Joel’s clothing.

  Tracy’s whimpers turned to halting sobs. “I can’t stand the dark! You know that! Don’t do this to me!”

  “Turn the lights on, Joel,” I shouted to no avail. Tracy made sputtering, raspy noises. She was losing it. That there were two of us in addition to Pavlov was our only real advantage. I had to help Tracy keep her wits.

  I fumbled my way around the table to stand beside her. I grabbed her arm and said into her ear, “He must be in the control room. Can you control the lighting to this room from there?”

  No answer, just quiet sobbing.

  “Tracy!” I cried in as loud a whisper as I dared. “You have to hold yourself together!”

  She took a noisy breath. “That room’s the brains for the entire building.”

  I had to get in there, somehow. I had to turn the broadcast back on and notify the police that the killer h
ad us trapped. “Can Joel hear us?” I whispered.

  “If he wants to. He can hear us through the mikes. His control panel for the microphones works the same as mine.”

  “Sorry I had to cut your broadcast short,” Joel said. “I’m broadcasting a nice little tape I spliced together this afternoon, and I just needed to air enough of the live broadcast to con the police. I’ve got Greg’s fingerprints on the tape and everything. It’ll take the police a good half hour to figure out what’s going on. By that time, it’ll look as though I killed Greg in self defense after he killed the two of you.”

  My eyes adjusted to what minuscule incidental lighting there was. I could make out Tracy’s and Pavlov’s silhouettes. Pavlov was pacing in front of the doors to the hallway and the control room where Joel Meyer had enthroned himself. “We need to disconnect all but one microphone.”

  “I can hea-r-r you,” Joel taunted. “Don’t think you can outsmart me, ladies. Let’s not forget, I’m the one with the switchblade that’s going to slit your throats! Allida, if you want to save your shepherd’s life, tie her up! Now!”

  Tracy still took rasping breaths as if she were suffocating, but rapidly pulled microphone jacks out from the control panel in front of her. In the meantime, I blindly disconnected two microphones and pushed them and then heavy stands to one side of the table. We now had a couple of makeshift weapons to defend ourselves. Also, we could now control what Joel could or could not hear us say.

  I grabbed this last live mike, covered it with my hand, and whispered into Tracy’s ear, “Take this mike. Keep him talking. When I say ‘Now,’ turn the volume all the way up and scream into the mike as loud as you can.”

  “Plotting something, girls? I wouldn’t bother. Your only exits are bolted shut. I control every piece of electronic equipment from in here. So let me tell you my demands. If you do what I say, I’ll turn the lights back on, okay, Trace?”

  “You tell him no deal or we’ll never get out of here alive,” I whispered.

  “I want the lights on!” she whispered back angrily.

  “The darkness is our only advantage,” I retorted.

  “Well? I’m waiting,” he taunted.

  “What do I need to do?” Tracy asked him.

  “Use one of the cables to the microphones you just disconnected, and tie up that dog. As soon as it’s done, I’ll turn on the lights.”

  “No way,” I answered for her. “Pavlov, come.” She trotted over, and I unbuckled her collar. Now Joel wouldn’t have an easy means to grab hold of her and control her.

  He chuckled. “Al, you haven’t seen how Tracy gets when she’s caught in the dark, have you? Let me put it this way. If I were you, I’d be more afraid of being trapped in a small, dark room with her than I would be of what I’m going to do to you. At least that part will be quick and painless.”

  “Give us a minute. We need to discuss this,” I said into the mike, then covered it with my hand. I remembered from before that the tiled ceiling was unusually low hanging. “Can I get out and into the hall by crawling above the tiles in the ceiling?”

  “No, there is a really small crawl space up there, but it’s only between this room and the control booth. It’s there so they can run wires.”

  “Time’s up, campers! What’s it gonna be?”

  “I can’t do this, Allida,” Tracy whined.

  “Yes, you can,” I whispered back harshly to her. “No deal,” I said into the microphone. “Pavlov is the only protection we’ve got, and we’re not tying her up!”

  “You need to reconsider that decision,” Joel said, his voice taking on an angry edge. “Remember, I’ve got a big, sharp knife in here, and your precious dog will be my first victim. If you tie her, I won’t harm her.”

  As he was talking, I whispered to Tracy to cover the mike, then I climbed onto the thick, heavy table and fumbled blindly till I sensed that I’d lifted one of the acoustic ceiling tiles. The ceiling tiles couldn’t support my weight, but I reached around until I felt a joist, then swung myself up. At long last those gymnastic classes my REC teachers were always trying to force me to take instead of basketball had paid off.

  The air was stagnant—hot and musty. I fought like hell not to cough, which would let Joel know my location. There was just enough room for me to move on hands and knees, and yet the crawl space had been built with a long-limbed person in mind. Two four-inch ledges were wide enough for my hands and knees, but straddled a two-foot wide strip of ceiling tiles that ran down the center of the sound booth and control room. It was all I could do to keep my knees on the inner edges of the wood. This would make for slow going, but it was our only chance.

  “What do you want from us, Joel?” Tracy asked. “Did you kill those women?”

  “I had no choice, Trace. If Hannah would’ve just backed me financially and helped me with the recipe, I’d have been set for life. Only she catches on to how I’d spoiled her dog’s food. She starts waving this gun at me. The damn thing went off as I was trying to wrench it away. Then I bumped into Beth Gleason accidentally. I was just on my way to meet Allida for the first time and see what the deal was with the damned collie, and I run into Beth walking him. She recognized me from class...and Sage starts barking at me. She would have gone straight to the police. It was crazy. She yells at the dog to run, and she pulls this switchblade out. What was I supposed to do? It was self defense.”

  It was hard to orient myself. As best I could tell from the sound of Joel’s voice, I was roughly halfway there. But what was the point? Joel was twice my size and muscular. I couldn’t out-battle him for the controls.

  To kill either of us, he would have to leave the control room and go into the sound booth. I could drop down, lock the door behind him, and get at the controls to broadcast a plea for help. That left just Pavlov to protect Tracy from Joel, but I saw no better alternative.

  “Where’s Greg?” Tracy asked. “Did you kill him, too?”

  “Not yet. He’s tied up in the back office. I’m giving you gals sixty more seconds to tie up that dog then I’m coming in, either way. It’s up to you, Allida. You tie up your dog, she lives. You keep her loose, she’s the first victim.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tracy said. “You win. Allida’s tying her up right now.”

  Something was running down my face—tears or sweat. Probably both. Sixty seconds! I had to move faster! Tracy was making noises that sounded as if a cable were being dragged across the table. She was trying to fake out Joel; she was too smart to tie up Pavlov.

  “Want to know something funny?” Joel asked with an anguished chuckle. “This was where I stashed Sage so I could get back home before you woke up. That’s what caused this whole bloody mess! Figured nobody was going to be in here, and it was the last place anyone would connect me to or think to look for the dog. Then you, Miss Bossy Bitch Truett, sent Greg out here! I couldn’t get the dog out of the building without Greg seeing. Now he’s going to have to take the fall for all of this. You just cost three human lives to try and save one stupid collie!”

  “Let us go, Joel. It’s too late. You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Allida? Why are you so quiet?”

  Damn! I had taken too long!

  “She passed out,” Tracy lied. “Wake up!” She made a slapping noise followed by a low groan.

  It didn’t work. I could see little slits of yellow below me. He’d turned on the lights in both the sound booth and his own control room.

  “Where is she?”

  Tracy stayed mute.

  He paused. “You little bitch! What is it you think you’re going to accomplish?”

  His voice was directly below. The knife blade jabbed through the ceiling tile a foot ahead of my face. I gasped, then inched forward. Dear God! I had no choice now but to try to drop down on top of him. If I mistimed it, I’d impale myself on his knife!

  Again, he punched his knife through a tile centered right under my stomach. He pulled the knife back down.

  �
�Now!” I hollered. Tracy’s scream was all but ear-shattering, and I had the acoustic ceiling to muffle it. I kicked down the two-foot-by-four-foot ceiling tile, which cracked over Joel’s head. He was still standing. As I’d hoped, he had dropped the knife in an attempt to scramble to the volume controls. Before he could react, I let myself drop the four feet or so to his head.

  My chin knocked into the top of his head, and I saw stars, but managed to grab hold of his neck. We fell to the floor.

  The amplified noise from the sound booth in this tiny room was deafening. Tracy was screaming at Joel. Pavlov was barking savagely.

  Joel pushed me away and lunged for something near my leg. I kicked blindly, and soon realized I’d sent the knife skittering across the linoleum floor into the far corner.

  “I’ll kill you!” Joel’s face and hair were covered in dust and white plaster-like fragments from the shattered ceiling. His eyes were crazed black holes. I lashed out, landing a punch to his trachea. He grunted. I scooted out from under him.

  Pavlov was trying to claw through the glass window that separated us. If only Tracy were strong enough to lift her into the crawl space!

  Tracy screamed again at the sight of me. Blood was everywhere, and I realized that the flesh under my chin had split.

  I lunged toward the door of the sound booth. Joel rose, grabbed me, and threw me away from the door with so much force that the back of my head smacked against the opposite wall. He got his hands around my neck.

  “Chair on table!” I hollered with what could be my last breath.

  Joel loosened his grip on me and turned to look into the sound booth. I gasped for air and got a partial view into the sound booth past Joel’s body.

  Tracy was lifting a chair onto the table.

  Joel released me, swung around, and banged his fists on the glass. “No! Don’t, Tracy!”

  Pavlov bounded up onto the table, the chair, and disappeared into the crawl space. I threw open the door to the hallway. If I could just get to the lobby, the police would see me.