Obsessed (46 page)

“Let’s get some juice.” Carla interrupted her smoothly. “You scared me so much, my throat’s dry. I need a glass of orange juice and I’ve just got to find out how you got out of that car!”

There was another long silence, and then Judy whirled Carla around so fast, she stumbled. “Okay. You walk ahead of me. There’s juice behind the bar, and you can pour it. But I’ve got my eye on you, so don’t try to run.”

“I won’t,” Carla promised, and it was the truth. When Judy had whirled her around, she’d noticed the sharp knife she held in her hand. Running right now would be the same as suicide. But if she could keep Judy talking, there was bound to be a chance for escape. All she had to do was recognize it, and go for the element of surprise.

As Carla walked back down the hallway with Judy directly behind her, she began to form a plan. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to escape, but she might be able to save Michael. The sound system was rigged so that Mr. Calloway could make tapes of all the shows. If she could manage to switch it on, she could record everything that Judy said. All she had to do was make sure Judy didn’t realize that she was flicking the switch. And the switch was right next to the . . .

“Is it okay if I turn on the air-conditioner?” Carla hesitated as they came to the edge of the stage. “It’s really stifling in here, and the smell of that wax they put on the floor is making me sick to my stomach.”

Judy nodded. “Okay. But don’t try to pull anything, Carla. I’m right behind you with this knife.”

“I know. I saw it. But that’s Andy’s favorite chef knife. He’s going to be royally pissed if you bend that blade.”

Judy laughed, and she sounded almost like the old Judy as she guided Carla toward the switch for the air-conditioner. But her next comment made Carla know that she was completely insane.

“Maybe I should save this knife. I could use it on Andy. Wouldn’t that be choice? They’d find him with his favorite knife sticking out of his back.”

Carla reached out with her right hand and turned on the air-conditioner. As it whirred into life with a clatter, she also flicked the switch for the tape to record through the sound system. She held her breath, but Judy didn’t seem to notice. Tomorrow night, when Mr. Calloway got ready to tape the show, he would be bound to notice that the recorder was on. And when he played the tape, he’d be able to hear every word that Judy had said.

“Do you want orange juice, too?” Carla turned and headed for the bar. Judy was still on her heels and she tried to make her voice sound natural. Would the tape pick up all the way over here? All she could do was hope.

“No. I’m tired of orange juice. What else is there?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t make out the labels in the dark. Is it okay to turn on a light?”

“No!” Judy sounded angry. “Light one of those little candles they’ve got on the tables, and put it on top of the bar.”

Carla did exactly as Judy asked. This was going very well. Judy didn’t seem quite as determined to kill her as she’d been, earlier. But then she saw Mi chael’s fraternity ring, glittering on Judy’s finger, and she knew she was in big trouble. And when she caught sight of Judy’s face in the flickering light, she almost lost hope. Judy’s eyes glittered dangerously, and she looked almost demonic.

“What kind of juice is there?” Judy’s voice sounded hard and stem, as if she were correcting a recalcitrant child.

“Apple, mango, banana-pineapple, peach, straw berry-coconut, and spicy tomato.”

“Pour me some spicy tomato. I like that.”

As Carla poured the juice, she had an inspiration, and she made herself giggle. “Too bad there’s no Cran-lemon. Right, Judy?”

Judy laughed. It was her old laugh, full of mirth, and Carla was heartened by the sound. If she played her cards just right, she might be able to talk Judy into letting her go. But Judy’s laughter stopped as suddenly as it had started, and she looked angry again. “That Angela was a bitch. I really enjoyed smashing her head in and watching her bleed.”

“How about Vera?” Carla tried to make her voice casual and conversational, as if she were talking about a dance or a movie, instead of cold-blooded murder.

“That was fun, too. I used a rock, you know. That’s why the police never found a weapon. I tossed it back into the ocean when I was through.”

“That was smart.” Carla did her best to sound im pressed. “And you used the arc light with Heidi. That was very clever. At first they thought it was an acci dent, you know . . . until they found the arrow.”

“That’s my calling card.” Judy looked pleased.

“Which one was the hardest?” Carla tried to sound interested, although talking about these murders was so unnerving, her hands began to shake.

“I don’t know.” Judy frowned. “Liz, I guess. I had to hold her under the water so long, my arms began to cramp. It reminded me of the time I went deep-sea fishing, and I hooked a big tuna.”

Carla nodded, and put an understanding smile on her face, but mentally, she was trying to think of who she’d missed. She had to get Judy to confess to every one of the Cupid Murders. “Deana must have been easy. She was small.”

“It was a snap. I hit her over the head with that tire iron before she knew what was happening. Becky was harder, but I managed. She tried to run, you know.”

“I didn’t know that.” Carla raised her eyebrows. “How about Mary Beth? Did she suspect that some thing was wrong?”

Judy laughed. “Mary Beth was funny. Do you know, she was actually glad to see me? She was ner vous, all alone in the house, and she greeted me with that big, dumb smile of hers. I was laughing so hard, I had trouble killing her. But Ingrid was the most fun of all. I got to stalk her. It was like a game, you know? The whole thing reminded me of hide and seek.”

“You must have felt that way about Nita, too.”

“I did.”

Judy smiled as she nodded, but she was gazing at the knife in her hand. Carla knew she had to say something fast. “How did you stage your own death? That must have been very difficult.”

Judy laughed, long and hard. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “It was simple. I just picked up a hitchhiker with blond hair. She was a runaway, and I told her I’d take her home with me, and give her some clothes and a hot meal. She trusted me completely, so it was easy. I killed her and drove to the edge of the lookout. Then I doused her with gas, and pushed the car over the cliff.”

Carla shuddered. She didn’t want to think of the poor, terrified teenager that Judy had murdered. “How did you get her to switch clothes with you?”

“Oh, I did that after she was dead. It was easier that way. And then I hitchhiked back here, and I’ve been here ever since.”

Judy sounded very proud of herself, and Carla shivered. She picked up the bottle of spicy tomato, and held it out to Judy. “More juice?”

“No, thanks. It’s time to kill you now.”

Judy moved like lightning, and Carla screamed as she lunged toward her. The bottle of juice dropped from Carla’s startled hands, and it crashed to the floor. The sound of breaking glass threw Judy slightly off-balance, but Carla felt a blinding pain as the knife plunged into her body and she fell backwards, behind the bar.

The pain was so intense that Carla couldn’t move. She was stunned and helpless, lying amidst the shards of broken glass, with spicy tomato juice splat tered all over the front of her white blouse.

Judy grabbed the candle and leaned over the bar for a closer look. What she saw in the flickering light must have convinced her that Carla was dead, be cause she set the candle back on the t
op of the bar, and sighed deeply. “Sorry, Carla. I liked you. Really I did. But I couldn’t let you have Michael.”

Carla wanted to groan, but she didn’t. The knife wound hurt like blazing fire, but she didn’t make a sound. If Judy thought she was still alive, she’d stab her again.

“It’s over, Carla. You’re my last female victim.” Judy sounded almost cheerful. “I can’t go around killing off Michael’s girlfriends anymore. I know they’re going to catch me, sooner or later. It’s time to finish up and go.”

Carla held her breath as Judy pushed back her stool. And then she felt something hard and cold hit her forehead. It was Michael’s ring! Judy had thrown it on top of what she’d assumed was Carla’s dead body.

“I’ll leave this with you. Somebody might spot it if I wear it. And here’s your arrow, just like all the rest.”

It was the hardest thing that Carla had ever done, but she didn’t flinch as Judy leaned over her with an arrow. She felt a dull thud as the arrow struck her chest, but no pain. How odd . . . was the pain of the knife wound so great, that it had cancelled out ev erything else? And then Judy was stan
ding up again, smiling in satisfaction.

“That ought to do it. You’re the tenth and last vic tim of the Cupid Killer. The police are going to think that Michael killed you, too, right before he commit ted suicide.”

Carla’s head was whirling, and she knew she was close to losing consciousness. But she was sure she’d heard Judy clearly. She’d said that Michael was going to commit suicide. What did that mean?

“I know his parents are gone, and I’ve got a key to his house. Mrs. Warden gave it to Marta when they went on vacation last year. Poor Michael’s going to end up just like that little hitchhiker. I’ve got it all planned out. And I’m the only one who’ll ever know that he wasn’t really the Cupid Killer.”

Judy began to laugh as she blew out the candle, plunging the interior of Covers into darkness. And then her laughter grew louder and louder, until Carla was afraid she’d scream. Judy laughed all the way past the tables, and she didn’t stop until she had reached the front door. And then her voice floated out through the darkness again.

“Goodbye, Carla. It was nice knowing you. And don’t worry about Michael. He’ll be joining you much sooner than he thinks.”

The moment she was sure that Judy was gone, Carla attempted to get to her feet. But she was much too weak to stand, and her wound throbbed painfully with every breath she took.

Only one thought ran through Carla’s mind. She had to warn Michael. There was a telephone up on the stage, and she had to reach it!

Slowly, painfully, Carla managed to crawl to the stairs. There were only four steps to climb, but it seemed to take forever to drag herself to the floor of the stage. Just a few feet to go. The telephone was next to the light box. It took precious minutes, and a lot of courage, but at last Carla made it.

The telephone was much to high for her to reach, but Carla pulled herself up on the stool that Marc used between the acts. Her fingers felt numb as she dialed Michael’s number. It rang several times, but at last he answered, sounding groggy.

“It’s me . . . Carla.” Carla felt herself weaken, and she made a conscious effort to keep from fainting. “Judy’s alive and she’s on her way to your house. She’s got a key!”

“Carla? Are you dreaming?”

Michael sounded as if he didn’t believe her, and Carla began to cry. “Please, Michael . . . get out of the house and call the police. Judy’s going to kill you!”

“It’s okay, Carla. It’s just a bad dream. Do you want me to come over and keep you company?”

“Listen to me!” Carla tried to scream her warning into the phone, but her voice was a weak as she was. “Do you love me, Michael?”

“Of course I do.” Michael’s voice was warm with emotion.

“Then run straight to the police! Judy tried to kill me, and now she’s coming for you!”

There was a brief silence, and then Michael spoke again. This time he sounded urgent. “Where are you?”

“At Covers. Judy stabbed me, but I’m okay. Please believe me, Michael! Get out of there right now!”

“Okay, Carla. I’m gone.”

There was a click. Michael had listened to her warning, and he was leaving the house. Carla smiled and let the phone drop from her hand. She knew she should call for an ambulance, but she was just too tired. And then the soft blackness closed in, and her thoughts disappeared in a thick comforting fog that knew no pain.

Epilogue

One by one, the cars pulled into the parking lot at Covers. It was the Sunday before Christmas and Mr. Calloway was hosting his annual Christmas party for the cast and crew of Covers. Late last night, after the show, everyone had stayed to set up the Christmas tree and decorate the building for the holiday season. They’d all slept late this morning, had a leisurely day, and now they were arriving, dressed for the party and bearing brightly wrapped gifts.

Carla and Michael were the first to arrive, and they chatted with Mr. Calloway until the other guests began to troop in the door. Andy arrived with Linda, Berto, Tammy, and Winona. Phil and Rob rode with Marc Allen, and Jerry Maxwell brought the Alway Brothers and Gina and Nicole in his band bus. There were many familiar faces, and some who would be come familiar. Mr. Calloway had hired ten new acts to audition tonight. The regulars would be the audi ence, and they’d get the chance to enjoy the show from the floor.

“Are you cold, Carla?” Michael looked concerned as Carla pulled her beaded sweater around her shoul ders.

“No, I’m fine. But I wish I hadn’t worn a low-cut dress. I’m still a little embarrassed about my scar.”

“I love your scar.” Michael bent over to kiss the top of her head. “And I especially love where it is. Another couple of inches lower, and you wouldn’t be here with me now.”