Disk of Death

by Kim Smith

  “Hello?”

  “Shannon? It’s Sal. Why are you breathing hard?”

  “I ran to the phone.”

  “That anxious, eh? Well good. I have news.”

  “Did you get the guy?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What’s that mean?” My head began to throb.

  “He’s dead.”

  I swallowed. All of a sudden, people died everywhere around me.

  “Can you come down here and check out some pictures? I’d like to see if you know this guy,” Sal asked.

  I looked at my phone clock. Almost seven.

  “Yeah, be right there.” We disconnected.

  Dwayne’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Come on, we’re going to the police station. They caught the guy who put the flowers under my car. Well, maybe ‘caught’ is a bad word. He’s dead.”

  “Damn girl, you stiffing people all over the place.”

  “It wasn’t me. I was with you under the table while Dude played footsie with Redmon’s woman.”

  We made the trip in record time. Sal opened his door to our knock. His partner, Dan, hunched over files on his desk with the phone to his ear. He wasn’t talking much, and his tanned, lined face was deep in thought.

  “Here they are,” Sal told us. “Sit there.” He pointed at the chair nestled against his desk.

  I obeyed. Dwayne stood near the door, trying to be inconspicuous.

  I studied the pictures. They were mug shots showing each side, and full frontal. The guy could have been any one of a number of people on the street on any sunny day. I didn’t know him.

  Then toward the bottom of the stack, there were pictures of a crime scene and I got a little nauseous. The guy had been shot, and was slumped over the gear shifter in his car.

  But it was the last picture that grabbed my attention.

  He’d taken the bullet in a silver Toyota.

  Chapter 19

  I didn’t know what to say. I held the picture up and waved it at Sal. He came over and took it.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Silver Toyota. Thought you might catch that. Looks like we’ve found one of the corner pieces in this damn puzzle.”

  Dwayne strolled over and peered at the picture. “What’s the connection?”

  “His prints were on the box the flowers were in. And he didn’t work for the florist, the one over at the Delicate Petal on the highway. You know who I mean?” Sal asked.

  Dwayne shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Sal continued. “Our CSI did his due diligence, prints don’t lie. We think he was hired by the killer to deliver the flowers to Miss Wallace’s car. He was a small time hood, and big time crackhead.”

  “Great.” I shoved back from the desk. My headache had obtained migraine status. “I don’t recognize him, but I don’t know if he knew Rick or Joe.”

  Sal took the pictures and placed them in a file. “Okay. Maybe he’s not a major player. Still good news.”

  “If you ask me, this news sucks. It means he wasn’t the killer,” I shot back.

  “We’ve got to take every piece of evidence and analyze it first. Something will turn up.”

  “Or someone,” Dwayne added, opening the door for me.

  “Should I feel safer now?” I asked, turning around.

  Sal raised an eyebrow. “There’s one less bad guy around, which makes most people feel safer. In your case though? Who knows?” His palms out gesture signified total lack of pretense. He had no idea if I would ever be safe.

  On that comforting note, we left. Dwayne took a call from his cousin, Clareta. She needed help moving a piece of furniture.

  “I’m gonna go help her out. She helped us the other day. Gotta keep the connections happy, know what I’m saying?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I hear you. Would it be okay if I stayed home? I have a killer headache. No pun intended. I think I would just like to lie down.”

  He shrugged. “I guess so. You got your gun, that nasty spray, new door locks, and a cop in the parking lot. I guess you’re about as safe as I can make you for a few minutes. I’ll swing back by soon.”

  I laughed. “Oh, goodie. I can stay home alone again.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  Once home, we checked the interior of my apartment and Dwayne left. I tried to relax. My headache was most likely either tension or PMS, and either way, it would be a long painful night. I took two Ibuprofen, stripped out of my clothes, and grabbed clean underwear.

  I lifted the stack of underwear and felt the SD card where I’d put it. I pulled the disk out and laid it on the bed for disposing of. I donned my favorite pajama-pants-and-tee shirt combo and dumped the card off into a small wastepaper basket on my way into the living room for a television-fest. I wished for a huge magnet to erase the card with. If that was even possible. The IT people at Fine Furnishings said that was what they did. Who knew? Maybe the heat would do it as it rotted in a dump.

  As I gathered and fluffed my pillow and blanket, the SD card beckoned to me. I got a good case of the guilties. It probably contained some of the hottest sex scenes ever filmed and I had just tossed it into a trashcan.

  Should I retrieve the card? Should I watch it before sending it into garbage heaven?

  Curiosity won. I wanted to see how Rick and I looked doing the deed. No wonder online porno was so popular.

  Scooping the card out of the trash, I held it for several minutes. What would the sight of Rick making love to me do to my still healing heart?

  I carried the SD card into the living room and stopped in front of the desk where my computer sat. Shifting from foot to foot, I hesitated as fear of seeing Rick again struck me.

  Stop, Shannon. You’re entitled to know what ended up on this damn card.

  I didn’t waste another moment. Seated at the computer, I pushed the card into a card reader, and waited for it to be recognized. While it was being analyzed and brought up, I scooted over to close the blinds. Just in case somebody chose this inopportune moment to visit.

  Then I returned to stand in front of the computer, bracing myself. I downloaded the whole disk to my computer. I really didn’t want the thing to be on my hard drive but my old computer didn’t give me any options. I would delete it when I finished giving into hedonism.

  At first the shot was blurry. When the focus righted itself, I saw industrial-colored carpet, roped off area, sign announcing a new APR. The inside of a bank? The camera bounced and bounced, scanned the floor, and jerked around.

  Rick obviously didn’t know the camera was on at this point because he began filming close-ups of clothing before the screen went dark, as if he had shoved the camera under something.

  This video wasn’t one of our Shannon-gone-wild ones, but I kept watching out of curiosity, what would he even take a camera into a bank for?

  Impatient, I clicked on the button to fast-forward. The view changed, and I made out a shiny silver wall. Safety deposit boxes? What was he doing in that area with a camera?

  I didn’t have to wonder long. The camera went black, then gray. In a few moments, the view became a room adorned with white walls and a single chair, illuminated by a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  A man entered the picture pulling something, and another man, his back to the screen, assisted. The bundle they tugged along was an unconscious person, and they struggled to set him in the chair.

  The camera rolled. Nothing happened for a long while and the men left. The seated man didn’t move. Just as I was about to press fast forward, the two came back.

  The assistant walked toward the camera, then behind it. He began fiddling around to sharpen the focus. I didn’t recognize him. In fact, I didn’t know anyone in the picture. And if Rick wasn’t behind the camera, or in front of it, where was he?

  The men talked to each other, but I didn’t recognize the voices, and my curiosity grew.

  They brought in lights and made the area around the chair brighter. Then adjusted the sound and discussed shot angles. They
were going to film the man? Out cold? This began to get more and more strange.

  They propped the man up straighter in the chair. His feet and hands were tied. They began slapping him around a little until he came to.

  The victim didn’t understand anything at first, and I wondered if he’d been drugged, or maybe he didn’t speak English. Fear, pure and plain, filled his face and shot through his body like an electric charge. His fear made my adrenaline pump.

  I squinted, trying to recognize his face but nothing came to me. His soft tenor rang out, echoed off the walls as he sobbed out for them to release him. This was no movie in the making. This was something far uglier, and I was held spellbound, afraid to watch, afraid not to.

  Abruptly, the two men disappeared off screen, and I thought maybe they’d decided to honor his requests, but instead, two new men arrived, one vaguely familiar, and the other unmistakable. He’d most recently been photographed in his silver Toyota, where he’d lost a part of his head to a bullet.

  The vaguely familiar man finally turned toward the camera, and everything suddenly clicked into place for me.

  Levi Green, of Green Screen Productions.

  He appeared every bit the actor with his long hair slicked back into a ponytail like a slovenly made-up Steven Segal.

  He grinned at the camera and pulled out a gun, similar to my own, waving it around. He shouted at the man in the chair, and I jumped. He promised it wouldn’t hurt. His intent filled the screen like some insidious smoke leaking under a door. I didn’t want to see or hear more. Movie or not, this wasn’t fun anymore.

  I sank to my knees in shock as he pointed the gun at the man in the chair.

  Before I could hit the stop button, the gun went off and a bright flash of blood sprayed out of the man’s head.

  I screamed and clicked the mouse at the screen like crazy.

  OFF!

  I wanted it off. I wanted it off and out of my house. I yanked on the power cord, terror gripping me.

  The screen blinked once, and the offensive image disappeared.

  Sal and Dwayne arrived at the same time. I gave the card to Sal and asked him not to watch it in my presence. I explained what was on it.

  Unrestrained tears fell down my cheeks and onto my crossed arms. “Mr. Fine told me I could get my belongings from the apartment, and I was looking for some of my stuff. That’s all I was doing,” I said, pleading him with my eyes. “It’s Levi Green. That rotten bastard. He killed someone.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed in the way of comfort. All I could think about was Aunt Tillie’s homemade chicken pot pie and how it would be ever so wonderful to be with her and Aunt Nancy talking about the latest football scores instead of reliving the image of a murder.

  Sal made phone calls from my apartment and promised to be back soon. He had to take the SD card, analyze it, and arrange to arrest the men if they could be identified.

  “Don’t leave her alone for a second,” he warned Dwayne.

  “Shit, you ain’t got to worry about that,” Dwayne assured him as he nodded at me. “She ain’t going nowhere else without me.”

  I slumped on the couch, wrapped in a baby-blue blanket and stared at the computer. I still saw the scene being played out before me and waves of revulsion rolled over me.

  “Why?” I didn’t realize I had asked out loud until Dwayne took up residence in the recliner and answered.

  “Who knows? Guess we’ll hear soon enough. Sicko freak.”

  “Why Rick, I mean? Why did Green give him that SD card? They were business associates. You don’t give a business associate the evidence of a murder you commit, for Christ’s sake.”

  “I can’t figure it out either. Why was the bank stuff on there?”

  I shook my head and burrowed deeper into the blanket. “I don’t know. I can’t think anymore.”

  “Let’s talk about something else. How about something to eat or drink? You know I make a mean omelet.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I told him, willing the trembling to stop.

  “Is there anything good on television? I sure wish you had some movie channels.”

  Hysteria bubbled up inside of me until I was sobbing.

  Dwayne held me and rocked me like I had done for him years before. “Shh. It’s gonna be okay, Wall-ass. It’s gonna be just fine.”

  I didn’t believe him, but it was sure nice of him to say so.

  “I-I don’t think I will ever be all right again, Dwayne. That card has something to do with why Rick and Joe are dead. It was in Rick’s closet, near his video camera, hidden and protected. I thought it was one of ours,” I sobbed. My words died in my throat. Thoughts tumbled one over the other, scrambling to the surface of my mind. A glimmer of possibility emerged. I wiped at my face and gaped at Dwayne. “Green did it. That murdering bastard. It was him.”

  I threw off the blanket and began pacing. Anger flashed over me sending prickles of feeling back to my numbed soul. I muttered to myself out loud, trying to understand. “Why did Rick keep it? Did he even know what was on it? He should have called the cops the minute he knew!”

  Dwayne waved both hands at me. “Don’t go there. Do not play detective, Wall-ass. Old Sallie is on the job. He’s gonna round the creeps up, and they’ll sing like birds.”

  “Yeah right, and while he’s busy with finding them, Green’s still out there watching and waiting for me to put the puzzle together. This is like a movie script to him. He’s enjoying every minute of it.” I plopped back onto the couch, new tears streaking down my face. “He enjoyed killing. He enjoys it, Dee.”

  He handed me a wad of tissue that he yanked out of the box on the coffee table. “You gotta get control of yourself, honey. The cops’ll go pick him up. He’s suspect numero uno. That’s Spanish, for ‘facing lethal injection’ or something. Let’s change the subject.”

  I sniffled for a long time after that. The hours passed slowly. Dwayne didn’t even fuss when I made him investigate a noise, and he missed the last fifteen minutes of the Tonight Show.

  Finally, I fell asleep, emotionally exhausted.

  When I woke, I found Dwayne curled up on the floor by the couch like a faithful collie, wrapped in an old comforter he’d dug out from my closet. I covered him with my blanket also, and took my phone into the kitchen to call Rick’s father.

  He would know why Rick had a video card from Green. There had to be a reasonable explanation. I was just missing the easy stuff.

  Mr. Fine answered, sounding sleepy.

  “Mr. Fine, this is Shannon Wallace. I’m terribly sorry to wake you at this time of night. But I had a question I wanted to ask you about.”

  He cleared his throat a few times and asked, “What can I help you with, dear?”

  “Why would Levi Green send Rick a video card? One that you record on?”

  He thought for a moment. “We always got approval disks before they dubbed the final. I suppose it could be one of those.”

  I scooted back in my kitchen chair. Of course, why didn’t I think of that?

  “Did he ever mention getting a card from Green Screen that was not supposed to come to him?”

  “Not that I recall, but he didn’t always fill me in on that stuff. I trusted him to take care of the business.” He paused. “Was there anything else? It’s a little late.”

  “No. Nothing else. I apologize again for waking you. You’ve told me what I needed to know. I appreciate it.”

  He murmured something about the film company always using the same procedures. I thanked him and disconnected, holding the phone for a long moment lost in thought.

  Somehow, some way, a terrible mistake had been made, and Rick had gotten the wrong card. Green had been trying to find it all this time and killing anyone who got in his way. I closed my eyes against the memory of the SD card’s contents. No wonder he wanted it so badly.

  I checked my windows and door to make sure all the locks and security devices were in place. Then, I woke Dwayne and
made him get on the couch, and I went to bed.

  Sounds of anything that moved kept me awake until the wee hours. Finally, I couldn’t keep my eyes open another moment. I covered my head and prayed death would not come calling.

  My dreams were disjointed and disorienting, containing only flashes of colors and excerpts from my life. I saw myself as an orphaned child, relived the pain that accompanied it until it nearly drowned me, and woke with tears streaming down my face. Summer birds played somewhere outside my window and wind shook the building in warm friendly gusts that reassured me life still went on.

  I tiptoed into the living room, skirting the couch where Dwayne snored softly. He was the best friend a girl could ever ask for. I had to do something to repay him once this crap was over. I would introduce him to Katie Henderson, my best girlfriend. Maybe she knew some attractive gay man to hook him up with. She knew everything about everybody.

  Except everything about me now.

  I had stories to relate that would amaze her. God, when was she coming home anyway? Ireland might be a great vacation spot but I could only envision it as a place my friend had retreated to without me. I needed her here!

  Would this nightmare ever be over? If the cops didn’t get Green and his cadre and nail them with something, they might walk. I shuddered. If that happened…

  I rinsed out the coffee pot, spooned fresh coffee into the basket, added water, and flipped the switch. When the familiar gurgle and chug of the machine began in earnest, I decided to hand wash all the dishes in the sink. I had a dishwasher, but I needed something to keep my mind off my troubles and my fingernails out of my mouth.

  I did my best to keep things quiet in order not to wake Dwayne, but it was likely not necessary as his snores could be heard easily. While I worked, my mind played out scenarios. If Sal arrested Green on suspicion of murder, he would have a search warrant in hand and those disks, wherever they were, would be up for grabs. I would be found out. The fear of the entire SLPD watching me dance and shake my money maker struck me hard.