A Slow Walk to Hell (12 page)

T
he angle was taken from above, indicating it was the camera in the vent. The zoom had been set to perfectly frame the center of the bed and there was no sound. Talbot’s partner was a dark complected man with black hair. They began to kiss and I instantly felt physically repulsed. It was all I could do to make myself watch.

Frowning, I realized something was missing from the screen. When I mentioned it, Simon explained, “Billy said the camera is little more than a lens with a transmitter. Unlike a camcorder, it doesn’t record the time and date automatically. That would have to be done through the VCR.”

Which obviously hadn’t been set up to do so.

We kept watching. The action was picking up. Amanda turned away from the TV.

I said, “I think we’ve seen enough, Simon.”

“Not yet. I want you to see the second man’s face. There.”

The black-haired man had been lying on his side and we’d only seen him in profile. At that moment he’d rolled on his back and Simon had frozen the tape.

Amanda inhaled sharply while I stared in amazement.

“My God,” she said. “It’s Benny Rider.”

For almost five years, Benny Rider had been the weatherman at the highest rated evening news show in Virginia. Handsome, glib, and charming, Benny had also filled in for Al Roker on
The Today Show
and many people figured it was only a matter of time before he was signed on full-time by a network.

And possibly he would have been, except that Benny decided to come out of the closet. He justified his decision at a news conference, saying it was the new millennium and he didn’t think Americans would care about his sexuality.

Bad move, Benny.

A majority of his fans had been women. When their fantasy died, so did Benny’s ratings and his future with NBC. After a year, his station let him go and Benny took solace in booze and drugs. Last month, I read in
The Washington Times
that he’d decided to clean up his act and enter rehab the following week.

I suppose that’s what made Benny’s story so tragic. He was so close to getting himself clean and turning his life around. All he had to do was keep straight for another week. Just one more week.

But it turned out Benny didn’t have another week. The night before he was supposed to enter rehab, Benny went on a final drug binge and ingested one speedball too many. His body was found the next morning by—

“Get me another tape, Martin,” Simon said.

As Simon ejected the tape from the VCR, I knelt beside the evidence box. “There are only two tapes?” Since Talbot had gone to the trouble to install a video camera in his bedroom, I’d assumed he’d have a library of videos.

Simon held up the video we’d just seen. “For a total of three. Including this one, we know that Talbot recorded at least one more. If you notice, there are numbers written on the labels…”

I plucked out a tape from the box and slipped off the sleeve of another popular studio release. On the label affixed to the side, I saw nothing except the printed number 2. I checked the second tape; number 1.

When I glanced up, Simon and Amanda were standing over me. “Good,” he said. “That’s the one I want to view next.”

As we exchanged videos, he said, “That’s number four. Number three is missing.” He reinforced the comment with a knowing look, making it clear what he suspected.

The missing tape was the motive for the killing.

I felt a sinking sensation. It was clear why Simon wanted me here, but there was nothing I could do about it.

As I rose, Simon inserted the video into the VCR. Amanda asked him if he thought Talbot might have been engaged in blackmail. A logical question since we’d only assumed that Congressman Harris had been the source of Talbot’s money.

“No, for two reasons,” Simon said. “First, Teriko found records of Talbot’s trust fund, established by Congressman Harris. Talbot receives one-point-two million dollars annually. Second, as a military officer, Talbot would have no credibility as a blackmailer. Any potential victims would know he couldn’t reveal his homosexuality without ending his career.”

Amanda nodded; she’d never seriously considered the blackmail angle. She said, “So Talbot just got off on secretly taping his lovers. One of them found out about his kinky practice and decided to get the tape back. Only problem was, Talbot wouldn’t give it to him. Or maybe the killer didn’t ask. Maybe he just decided that Talbot was too much of a risk and had to go. That how you see it?”

She was addressing Simon. He said, “Your first scenario is the most likely. We know Talbot realized he was in danger.”

“That’s what I don’t get,” she said. “If Talbot was scared of this guy, why didn’t he give him the tape?”

“Perhaps he did and the person killed him anyway.” Simon thought, then shook his head. “But the torture seems to rule out this possibility. What other information could the killer have been trying to extract, if not the location of the tape?”

“Punishment,” Amanda said. “The killer might have tortured Talbot to punish him.”

I raised my eyebrows at her.

“Hey,” she said, noticing. “It’s a
theory,
not the gospel. Before you dismiss it, ask yourself if Talbot would have held out once the guy started cutting on him.”

“Probably not.”

“Probably?
We both know Talbot would have spilled his guts the moment the guy started cutting him. But the sick bastard kept on torturing him. You ask me, there’s only one reason. He wanted Talbot to suffer. Period.”

I had to admit her logic was sound. “Okay.”

But she was looking quizzically at Simon who’d gone still, eyes fixed into space. He murmured, “Perhaps…”

Then he trailed off, lost in his thoughts.

Amanda cocked an eyebrow at me. I shook my head. I had no idea what triggered this. Odds are it was something Amanda had said.

After a few seconds, Simon slowly nodded, coming back.

She said to him, “Well?”

He hesitated; his initial impulse was always to keep his theories to himself. “Perhaps it wasn’t the tape.”

Her face went blank. “Sorry.”

“What the killer wanted. Perhaps it was something else he was after.”

Now she appeared completely mystified, as did I. She said, “But he
took
it. We know at least one tape is missing.”

“Precisely. But we don’t know that the killer has it.”

Amanda and I considered this new wrinkle. Could the killer have murdered Talbot for some
other
reason we had yet to understand?

“Your thoughts, Martin.”

On rare occasions, Simon used me as a sounding board. I said, “Logic tells me the tape had to be what the killer was after…” I saw him nod. “And that once he obtained it, he killed Talbot to prevent him from revealing their affair. But this last point bothers me. Why did he feel Talbot was a danger to him? Talbot couldn’t kiss and tell without ruining his own career. Then there’s the effect on his uncle. It certainly wouldn’t help the congressman’s campaign to have his nephew publicly admit—go ahead.” He was about to interrupt me anyway.

“I doubt Major Talbot was concerned about costing his uncle votes. Not with the resentment he felt for him.”

“Well, well,” Amanda said, swinging around to me. “Now where have I heard that before? Hmm?”

I ignored her and asked Simon how he knew this. I was damn sure he’d never read a scandal mag in his life.

He shrugged. “It’s common knowledge that the two men didn’t get along. That’s why you’ve never seen a photograph of Major Talbot accompanying his uncle to a campaign rally or a speech.”

As if anyone except Simon would have noticed. I said, “So when the congressman defended his nephew against the homosexual charge—”

“A political calculation. As you’ve concluded, it doesn’t enhance a politician’s popularity to have a homosexual in the family.”

“And Talbot’s million-dollar trust fund?”

“It’s a curiosity. But Talbot is family and the Harrises don’t have any children of their own. In any event…” He faced the television and raised the remote.

Amanda made a face. “We really have to watch them all?”

He glanced at her, his tone sympathetic. “Bear with me. It suggests a pattern.”

“Beyond the fact that we’ve got a couple of guys who were lovers and are dead?”

“Actually,” Simon said, “I was alluding to something else. But we still have to consider that the two deaths could be related.”

She squinted at the remark. “You got any evidence that Benny’s death was anything but an accidental drug overdose?”

“No.”

“But you’re going to check with the ME who made that determination?”

“Of course. We have to be certain. As before, focus on Talbot’s partner in this tape. The pattern I was referring to will become apparent.”

And seconds after he pressed “play,” it was.

T
he pattern was fame.

On screen, we saw Talbot lying beside an older man in his fifties. Amanda and I immediately recognized him as Ross Pelman, the star of a long-running sitcom back in the eighties. Like Benny Rider, Pelman had come out of the closet. Unlike Benny, it hadn’t hurt his career. Over the years, Pelman had been a popular pitchman and hosted several game shows.

There was also another notable difference between Rider and Pellman, but I had to ask to be sure. “Pelman’s still alive, right?”

“Yes,” Simon said. “We checked.”

He ejected the tape, slipped it into its sleeve, and passed it to me as I handed him the third video from the evidence box.

This time when the tape began playing, Amanda and I didn’t recognize Talbot’s partner, who was a slender blond man of approximately the same age.

Simon paused the tape so we could study his face.

“He’s good looking,” Amanda murmured.

I had to agree. He was almost pretty, with fine, effeminately delicate features.

“Notice his hair?” Simon said.

“Short,” Amanda said. “Well above the ears. Run the tape a little—freeze it. Hair’s tapered in the back. He could be military…” She paused, thinking. “We could make a print from the video. Show it around Talbot’s office—”

I said, “Major Lyle Coller.”

They both looked at me.

“Colonel Kelly,” I said, “described Major Coller as an effeminate officer who worked with Talbot in Manpower. Kelly was convinced they had a thing going.”

“You got an address or phone number? No?” She reached for her phone, to have the duty officer at the OSI desk run Coller down.

Simon shook her off. “Teriko printed out a list of Major Talbot’s acquaintances from the computer. It’s rather extensive. Coller is almost certainly on it. Martin, would you mind getting it from her?”

Amanda had already started toward the door, but for some reason, Simon wanted me to do this. “Sure. Okay.”

“Put the list in the folder on the coffee table.”

I went over and picked up the folder. I felt several pages inside and was about to open it when Simon said, “Martin, it would helpful to obtain Coller’s description, to confirm whether he is the man on the tape.”

I told him I’d planned to do this.

“If the description matches,” he continued, “call Coller and advise him that someone from the police will be arriving to interview him this evening. Make sure he understands not to open his door to anyone else. Only the police.”

“You think he’s in danger?” I asked.

“Possibly. If he knows the identity of Talbot’s other lovers.”

Confirming he still believed the missing tape was behind the murder. “What about Ross Pelman?”

“He’s vacationing in Europe.”

Lucky Ross.

At the door, I glanced back and saw Simon lean close to Amanda and whisper something to her. She responded with a hesitant smile and began fingering her engagement ring through her latex glove. “It’s beautiful,” she said, loud enough for me to hear. Simon beamed and for the second time this evening, squeezed her shoulder affectionately.

Only friends.

I sighed and went into the hall. Just before I entered Talbot’s office, I opened the folder and found myself looking at a picture of Sam in his uniform—the one Amanda had downloaded from the Pentagon Web site. With the two stars on his shoulders and the fruit salad on his chest, Sam looked like a general straight out of central casting. It was an ability he’d always possessed, to look the part of the perfect soldier.

I flipped the photo and saw faxed copies of Talbot’s phone records. I studied the first page which depicted the calls Talbot had made this month, from his home lines. Close to a dozen of the entries were highlighted in yellow and I focused on the first one. The previous evening, Talbot had placed a call to an Arlington—

My eyes widened. I scanned the highlights. All were to the same number. I turned the page. More highlights—

I shook my head and closed the folder. It was clear why Simon had wanted me to see this. He was subtly cranking up the pressure, trying to squeeze me to the point of cracking.

So much for my theory that he was bluffing.

“Major Coller?” Major Tenpas said. “Sure I can describe him.”

I was sitting in an armchair in Talbot’s office, talking to him on my cellular. Teriko was camped behind the big desk, stacks of colored folders from Talbot’s file cabinet spread out before her. Every criminalist had a specialty and hers was financial and accounting matters. She flashed a friendly smile. This was a notable change from the chilly reception she’d given me when I first walked in, requesting the list of Talbot’s acquaintances.

“The lieutenant knows about this?” Her tone dripped suspicion. Understandable. She’d seen me get into a hissy fit with her boss and walk out on him.

“He sent me to get it.”

Her hand reached for a thin sheaf of pages, then paused.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Simon and I kissed and made up. Ask him if you want.”

“That you kissed him?”

Her deadpan delivery threw me. I couldn’t tell if she was joking. “Uh, it’s a figure of speech.”

“Not a Freudian slip brought on by this case?”

I rolled with it and said, “Never can tell.”

She smiled and handed me the pages.

On the phone, Major Tenpas said, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why you’re interested in Major Coller.” He’d provided Coller’s description; it matched the man in the video.

“You suppose right, Major. I understand Coller and Talbot were quite close.”

A long pause. You didn’t become a general’s exec unless you were an up-and-comer. You didn’t survive the job unless you were discreet. Tenpas coughed, sounding uncomfortable. “I can tell you they were friendly enough for Major Talbot to pull some strings and get him a good job.”

“What job?”

“With his uncle’s campaign. Major Coller’s starting at the top. He’s going to work as an administrative assistant for Mrs. Harris.”

“Coller is separating from the Air Force?”

“Turned his papers in last week. Kind of short notice, but he figured this was too big an opportunity to pass up.”

Especially if Harris won the election. “Anything else about Coller’s relationship to Talbot you can tell me?”

He hesitated. “I’d rather not say.”

“I think you just did, Major.” As I hung up, I realized that Colonel Kelly hadn’t fed me a line. Others in Manpower
had
suspected that Coller and Talbot were an item.

As I glanced down at the list of Talbot’s acquaintances on my lap, Teriko said, “I’d say Major Talbot was pretty well connected.”

I nodded.

The list was seven pages long and contained over a hundred names, all with phone numbers, most with home and e-mail addresses. Teriko’s comment was directed at the third or so who could be classified as either minor or major celebrities. The majority were politicians, but there were several film and TV stars, a couple of sports figures, and three general officers. Being the nephew of a powerful congressman and potential president obviously had its bennies.

Turning to Coller’s name, I thumbed his number into my phone. Teriko said, “Before I forget, I need you to pass on to the lieutenant—”

I held up a finger. A softly precise voice on an answering machine said, “This is Major Lyle Coller. I’m sorry I missed you…”

I checked my watch. Ten-twenty, but it was Friday night. At the beep, I left a message, stuck the list into the folder, and rose to my feet. “Pass on what?” I asked Teriko.

“Sergeant Fuqua dropped by to talk to Lieutenant Santos earlier. But you were watching those…videos.” She said it like a dirty word, which, in this case, it was. Her eyes sought out an opened notepad on the desk. “Fuqua says to tell the lieutenant that all the sheets for Talbot’s bed are white.”

“Okay…”

She shrugged. “All I know is that the lieutenant asked Sergeant Fuqua to go through the hall closets, see what color the oversized sheets were. So far all the ones Fuqua found are white. Now the sheets for the guest beds are a variety of colors and patterns.”

“I’ll tell him. Thanks for the help.”

I walked out, shaking my head.
Sheets?