Freeze Frame (15 page)

"How will you check it out?"

"He's got some high-priced equipment in his
basement. I'll call you from his place."

57

8:55 p.m.

Carter finally called – much later than we
expected.

"Bad news, Darcy. Real bad.”

"Matt? What’s going on?"

"Ed Blake’s dead.”

"Blake? Dead? What happened?”

Carter had gone to Blake’s house before
seven. He heard a car running in the garage, opened the door and
found the garage filled with carbon monoxide fumes. He dragged
Blake from the car and tried artificial respiration. A nine-one-one
call brought an emergency unit. Too late.

"What are the police saying?"

"Suicide."

"What do you think?”

“I think it’s another murder dressed to look
like suicide. When I talked to Blake this morning, he was
fine."

"What about the DVD?”

"It was on the front seat."

"When are you going to look at it?"

"I just did. I'm in the Media Center. I ran
it frame by frame."

"And?"

"Nothing, Darcy. Sorry."

"Whoever killed Blake took the real DVD and
replaced it with a harmless one."

"That's what I figured. But where do we go
from here?"

"Look, Matt. We can't get to you, but you can
come here. We have the DVD Gracie Caponi gave us. Come get it,
check it out for us."

"Tell me how to get there and I'm on my
way."

***

With Gaylord a three-and-a-half hour drive
from Detroit, I didn’t expect to hear from Matt much before
twelve-thirty. It surprised me when the phone rang closer to
ten-thirty.

It wasn't a good surprise.

"Darcy, I can't get there."

"What's the problem?"

"The cops are tailing me. They must have
followed me from Blake’s earlier, but I didn't see them until about
half an hour ago."

"Where are you?"

"A restaurant in Saginaw. They're outside.
I’ve tried to lose them but can't. I don't want to lead them to
you."

"Go on home. We'll think of something."

"Sorry, Darcy. But I've got to be honest: I'm
kinda glad the cops are here; or maybe I’d be dead, too."

58

10:58 p.m.

I sat slumped on the living room couch,
Higgins in a chair next to me. Carter’s news had taken a toll on
both of us.

Higgins set his magazine down and headed for
the television.

"Let's see if we're still headline
material."

"I'm going to bed. Every time our faces are
on TV, there's a better chance someone like your friend Mrs. Gordon
will recognize us."

"Don't worry about her. Old Mrs. Gordon's in
a world of her own."

I started for the bedroom, but the news
program’s fast-paced opening caught my attention. I watched the
screen fill with a succession of reporters on location, then
dissolve to a studio set. Two talking heads, a man and woman,
looked eager to dive into the disasters du jour. The thin,
serious-looking young man took the lead story: the latest polls
showed Niles VanBuhler pulling into a dead heat with President
Nordstrum.

The second story, read by the blonde anchor,
a Diane Sawyer look-alike, centered on the armed robbery of a
bowling alley lounge in Gladwin.

"Looks like we're old news in Northern
Michigan at least." I started to get up from the couch, but the
next story stopped me in my tracks.

"The search for the sports car cop killers is
widening, according to Roseville, Michigan police,” the male anchor
read. "Sean Higgins and Darcy James are wanted for questioning in
two murders: a video editor killed last week, and an advertising
agency producer originally thought to have committed suicide. But
yesterday's report placing the pair in the Traverse City area
appears to be a false alarm.”

The scene shifted to a young woman standing
next to a black sports car. She reported the vehicle turned out to
be a Bugatti, not the notorious AVC Avatar.

The newscast returned to the studio. "Weren't
you at the University of Michigan around the same time as Sean
Higgins?" the Diane Sawyer look-alike asked the male anchor.

"Yeah, and that's why I don't get it,” said
the man. “I didn't know Higgins personally. But besides being a top
athlete, he had a reputation as a good student and, well...a
gentleman."

"He's got me pegged, alright." Higgins
smiled. "Model student."

"Frankly," the male news anchor continued, "I
can't believe he killed anyone. There must be more to the
story."

"And we'll have more...more news that
is...right after this..." Diane almost-Sawyer said as the station
broke for a commercial.

Higgins hit the off switch. "Well, someone's
on our side."

I was suddenly wide-awake. "Maybe that’s the
answer."

“What answer? What do you mean?"

"That guy on the news might be our last hope
to see what’s on the Avion DVD. What's his name?"

"Phil... Phil something."

"Phil Speilman. Let’s call him."

"Now?"

"Right after the news."

59

A recorded voice at WTVC answered with a list
of department choices. Higgins pressed "five."

"Speilman."

"Mr. Speilman... this is Sean Higgins."

"Sean Higgins? Sure you are. And I'm Bo
Schembechler.” "Speilman... I'm taking a huge chance calling
you."

"Then why are you?"

"Because you’re my last hope proving my
innocence in those killings."

"And how can I do that?" From his sarcastic
tone it seemed clear Speilman didn’t believe it was Higgins.

"Speilman, you said you went to U. of M. the
same time I did. Ask me a question."

"A question?"

"Something about football. Didn't you go to
the games?"

"Never missed."

"Then ask me something."

"Okay. The Iowa game our senior year...what
was the final score?"

"Twenty-seven, twenty-four. We pulled it out
in the last minute."

"The winning touchdown...who scored it?"

"Bobby Campbell."

"Anyone could know that."

"Speilman, listen: J. D. Huffer faked to me,
then handed off to Campbell. He went over Irv Rabideau's block to
score."

"You’re right. I had forgotten the
details."

Higgins let out his breath. "If I pass, let's
get on with it. I need your help."

"You've got it. That is...if you're really
innocent."

"I swear it. I'll explain when I see you. And
guarantee you an exclusive. Right now, here's what I need..."

Higgins told Speilman about the DVD.

"We've got what you need. Just get me the
disc.”

“I can't let it out of my sight, so it has to
be at night. With no one else there. Can you run the
equipment?"

"Of course. You don't think us news types are
just pretty faces, do you?"

"We need to do this right away."

"How about tomorrow night? The studio clears
out after the news. Park in the back lot. You'll have to punch in a
code to get in. It's three, four, seven, five."

Higgins scribbled the numbers on a pad next
to the phone.

"See you tomorrow at midnight."

60

Friday, Oct. 22 – Late evening

Higgins left for Traverse City after a late
supper.

It occurred to him that the meeting could
easily be a trap. Snaring a wanted fugitive would be great
publicity for Speilman and the station. Still, the meeting
represented their last hope.

Thinner than he appeared on television,
Speilman stood almost as tall as Higgins. After a short greeting,
the two walked down a narrow corridor and through a steel door into
one of the station's small editing suites.

"Best equipment between Detroit and Chicago,"
Speilman said, motioning toward a bank of monitors, recorders and
assorted editing devices.

Speilman sat at the controls, facing three
video monitors; Higgins took the seat next to him.

“What are we looking for?” Speilman
asked.

"This whole mystery started with an editor
who found something on this DVD. The commercial has a bunch of
bikini-clad women standing around an Avion on a beach. I want to
view it the way he might have."

"How's that?"

"First, with all those babes bouncing around
in bikinis, let’s assume he wasn’t viewing the commercial for a
good look at the vehicle.”

"You’re saying the headlights that turned him
on weren’t on the car?”

“Exactly.”

"Let's try it." Speilman pushed a button on
the console and the monitor lit up with the scene of the Avion
racing along the sand. As the car slowed to a halt, the bikini-clad
women ran to it. Speilman froze the frame on three faces: a blonde
and two brunettes.

"You’re on the right track. Let's keep
going...this time in slow motion."

Speilman pushed a button and the picture
began to move slowly and the scene changed, focusing on another
girl, a stunning blonde. Speilman touched a button and the screen
froze. "This more like it?"

"Hold on. Did you see anything? Words? Just
before this?"

"Let's see." Speilman pushed a button and the
scene reversed, frame-by-frame, until...

Both men stared dumbly at the monitor.
Speilman had frozen the frame to stop the action completely, but it
took both a minute to realize what they saw.

There it was, just as Darcy predicted.
Suddenly Higgins understood why Vince Caponi, Darren Cato and Ed
Blake had been murdered. Why the people who killed them wouldn't
rest until Manny Rodriguez died...and why those same people would
most certainly be coming after them.

The two men stared at the screen for a long
moment.

Then Higgins reached for the phone on the
control panel in front of them.

61

The clock on the living room wall told me the
eleven o'clock newscast had been over more than an hour. By now
Higgins could have examined that DVD fifty times.

Why hadn't he called?

I walked to the kitchen, lit a burner and
started to boil some water for tea. Feeling a draft, I noticed the
window over the sink open a crack. As I leaned forward to shut it,
I sensed movement outside. Someone, something lurked just outside
the cabin.

I switched off the overhead kitchen light and
peered out into the darkness. Nothing. I turned the light back
on.

A knock at the front door startled me.

I switched on the porch light. Peeking
through one of three small diamond-shaped glass windows, I saw a
middle-aged man bundled in a red and black-checkered hunter's
jacket. I wondered if the storm door was locked. I hoped so.

As I pulled the wooden door open, I saw the
visitor clearly through the storm door. A stocky man with dark hair
and a thick, black mustache completely covering the space between
his nose and upper lip, he smiled as he nodded a greeting.

"Hello, Miss..."

"Yes?"

"Hope it's not a bother. Saw your lights on,
and my mother...Mrs. Gordon next door? She’s having one of her
migraines. I wonder if I could trouble you for some aspirin."

He seemed friendly enough, and I hated the
thought of the frail Mrs. Gordon suffering a migraine. I fussed
with the latch on the storm door, and finally pushed it open.

"Thanks." The man rubbed his hands together
as he entered the cottage. "Sure cools off fast once the sun goes
down. I'm Tom Gordon." He offered his hand.

"Mary...Mary Johnson." I found the hand icy
cold. If the man recognized me from the television news reports or
newspapers, he didn't show it. Regardless, I didn't want to chance
giving my real name.

"I'll see if I can find some aspirin." I
headed for the bathroom, but the sound of the telephone brought me
to a halt.

"You were expecting a call this late?" Gordon
asked.

"It's...it's probably my friend. He's in
Traverse City."

I could have answered the phone in the
kitchen alcove, but instead walked to the back bedroom, out of
Gordon's earshot, and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Darcy, Sean."

"Sean, where...what’s happening?"

"You were right about the DVD."

"What did you find?"

"The stakes are much higher than we ever
imagined. Darcy, listen to this: digital discs record action at a
rate of thirty frames every second. This disc, the Avion submaster,
carries a message every twenty-ninth frame. The message appears so
quickly, the conscious mind never sees it. But it gets implanted
big time in the subconscious.”

“What message?”

“Two words: VanBuhler and leadership.”

"My god, they’re trying to corrupt the
election. No wonder VanBuhler is coming on so fast. We’ve the
evidence we need, Sean. Now we’ve got to get it to the right
people.”

"We'll leave tomorrow. But for now, I don't
want you there alone. With what we know, it's not safe."

"Sean, be serious. Where else can I go?"

"Until I get back, I want you to go over to
Mrs. Gordon’s."

"That old lady? You think she's going to
protect me?"

"I don't want you in that cottage alone.
These people, whoever they are, always seem to be a step
ahead."

"Not this time, Sean. Mrs. Gordon's son is
here. I’m perfectly safe."

"
Who?
"

"Mrs. Gordon's son. He’s here with me. He
came to get aspirin for his mother."

When Higgins spoke, the words slid down my
spine like a sliver of ice, leaving me chilled to the core.

"Darcy, Mrs. Gordon doesn't have a son; or a
daughter. She and her husband were childless."

62

I heard a sound and turned to see the
intruder standing in the doorway. The urge to run nearly
overwhelmed me, but I kept my composure and continued talking in an
imaginary conversation.

"I'll pass along the message, Jack." I
replaced the receiver. It would take an hour for Higgins to get
here. I couldn’t let this man guess I was on to him.