Video Kill by Joanne Fluke Page B

could sway her. Their divorce had gone through last month, and the luxury apartment that had been so warm and cheerful had taken on the feeling of a tomb without her. Sam had tried to cover up his despair by throwing himself into his work, but it felt as if all the joy in his life had been packed up with Katy’s clothes. Now, eight months after she’d walked out the door for the last time, he still found himself reaching out in the middle of the long, lonely night to touch her.
    His eyes hurt, and Sam reached up to rub them. Perhaps he’d feel better if he could get a good night’s sleep, but that prospect was pretty dim right now. And it would be nonexistent when he called in the press for this second murder. He’d just have to learn to function on quick catnaps until the Video Killer was caught. And he’d have to put Katy completely out of his mind.
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    It was two minutes past seven in the morning when Alan’s assistant had answered the phone in his bedroom. To Alan’s relief, she’d sounded brisk and businesslike even though she’d been wearing nothing but a pair of high-heeled satin bedroom slippers. Now it was eight-fifteen, and Alan was still sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to Uncle Meyer from Hawaii. By switching the phone from ear to ear, he’d managed to pull on a pair of pajama bottoms.
    â€œLook, Uncle Meyer, I think we ought to go ahead and exercise our option. After all, lightning did strike twice. Video Kill is turning out to be one hell of a hot property. Rocca and Nielsen have agreed to write the screenplay to parallel the actual murders, and that makes it more historical than sensational. I just can’t see any advantage to waiting any longer.”
    Alan lit another cigarette, not noticing the one that was smoldering in the ashtray. He couldn’t understand why the old man was dragging his feet. Maybe looking at all those grass skirts had addled his brain.
    â€œNo, Uncle Meyer, I can promise you that this won’t be a cheap exploitation film. I already told you that Lon Michaels is consulting with us, and you know his reputation for quality.”
    His uncle’s next question made Alan wince. “No, Uncle Meyer. Lon hasn’t actually agreed to sign on, but he’s interested. If you give me the go-ahead now, I’m sure I can get him for you.”
    â€œWhat was that?” Alan held the receiver close to his ear. The connection with Hawaii was worse than usual. “Did you say sample scenes ?”
    There was a pause while his uncle repeated his statement. Alan groaned.
    â€œBut we can’t do that, Uncle Meyer! It’s against the Writers’ Guild rules. The only way to get scenes from the actual script is to put Rocca and Nielsen under contract.”
    There was another long burst of words from the receiver. Alan groaned again.
    â€œI know. I know. That’s not the way it used to be, but that’s the way it is now. I’m in violation if I even ask for a sample scene, and Rocca and Nielsen face a possible expulsion from the guild if they agree. If anyone finds out, Cinescope could be in big trouble. That’s not chutzpah, Uncle Meyer, it’s insanity!”
    There was another rapid burst of conversation from the receiver, and Alan motioned for his assistant. In the past fifteen minutes she’d dressed in one of her tailored suits and she looked strangely incongruous in his bedroom.
    Alan raised his arm in a drinking gesture and his secretary hurried to the liquor cabinet. She mixed a Bloody Mary and handed it to him. Alan drank it down at a gulp and motioned for another.
    â€œYes, Uncle Meyer, I realize I’m only the acting head of Cinescope. Now, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want to see the first three scenes from Rocca and Nielsen on spec. No money. No signed contract. And the hell with guild rules. If you like their work, you want Lon Michaels to call you