Kill Shot (8 page)
Removing the flash drive from the coffee filters, she held it for a moment, and then frowned, recalling the pony-tail man. A roiling in her gut accompanied that memory. What if Oz was right and she was still in danger? Or was it just Oz bullying her again? Was he using the incident in the park to keep her off balance, playing on her fears? She tucked the pen inside her bra and cautiously opened the door.
No pony-tailed man waited to waylay her and she made it to the elevator without incident.
On the street, she sprinted into the Avalon, locking the doors before starting it. Cranking up the air conditioner, she aimed the vents toward her face, letting the cool blast of air lift her hair. It was turning into a hot and humid spring day. She drove to an office supply store she’d noticed a few blocks away.
“I need you to burn the photos on this flash drive onto a couple of CDs,” she told the young clerk, who was, he assured her, the resident guru of all things electronic. She also purchased a black permanent marker and a padded mailer. She wrote “Michael Bolton” on the CDs and, returning to the vehicle, she slid one into the underside of the visor which was equipped to hold about a dozen CDs. The other copy she left in the bag from the office supply store.
She glanced at her face in the mirror. The bruise under her eye was fading in color but spreading in area. However, the magenta bruise on her cheek was definitely receding to the point it appeared that she’d gone a little overboard with the blush on one side.
Micki drove to Gus’ Professional Camera Sales and Repair. Gus leaned on the scarred glass counter with his mouth hung open as she explained that the camera she’d rented from him had been stolen.
“Let me get this straight, Micki. You’re telling me that someone slugged you and stole a used camera. And now you want me to rent you another one?”
She nodded her head. “That about covers it, except that my insurance will pay for the Konica so I need a written receipt that shows the value.”
Gus shook his head. “I must be crazy.” He wrote the receipt and gave her a Leica nestled in an aluminum camera case to use. It was only a few years older than hers. “Please be careful, Micki. Don’t let anyone steal any more cameras.” He gestured to her eye. “And learn to duck.”
“Thanks, Gus.” She was glad to have a camera that she was familiar with to shoot Zondra’s wedding. It wouldn’t do to be fumbling when so much would be happening fast.
She returned to Oz’ apartment thinking she would beat him there, but when she unlocked the door, the look on his face made her rethink her choices.
“Micki,” he roared. “Where the hell have you been?” He hauled her into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her.
“I had to get another camera.” She gestured with the camera case in her hand. “I have a wedding to shoot on Saturday.”
“I swear if you pull something like this again I’m going to handcuff you to the headboard.” He glowered down at her.
“Is that so?” Micki started laughing, his expression too much for her to bear straight-faced. She giggled uncontrollably.
“Micki, it’s not a joke.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eyes, “but the image of you handcuffing me...I would so get back at you. I mean, you’d have to sleep sometime.”
“Very funny, but you know what I mean.” He had a firm grip on his fierce composure. “I was afraid for you.”
She sobered, nodding at him, solemnly. “I tried to call you.”
He frowned and checked his cell phone. He listened for a moment and snapped it shut. “I’m going out! That’s your message? Honestly, Micki.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
His expression softened. “You did.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “I can’t let anything else happen to you.”
Micki felt herself melting under his gaze. “I...I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
He blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Now, where is the flash drive? Your hard drive will take too long to restore and we need the information now. We’ve already lost half a day.”
“Oh, all right.” She pretended to pout as she handed him the store bag. “This is your copy of the pictures. My flash drive is safe and secure from all dippy lab rats.”
“Atta girl.” He reverently lifted the CD from the bag. “Michael Bolton?”
“Camouflage,” she said.
“Now, come with me to the lab and you can help identify the places where you were taking your pictures.”
She smiled at him. “I can’t wait. Do I get to meet the geek who put fingerprint dust in my cameras?”
Oz grinned at her. “You’re still pissed.”
“I could bite a hole in this guy’s neck for screwing with my equipment.”
#
“Micki, this is Aida Bounds, the head of the crime lab.” Oz stood grinning as he gestured to the woman extending her hand.
She was forty-something, short with broad shoulders and thick, dark eyebrows, almost meeting in the center. Her full, straight-cut bangs and the Mary Jane shoes with white crew socks enhanced her childlike appearance.
“Great to meet you, Micki.” She clasped Micki’s hand in her stubby, very strong fingers.
“Hi Aida,” Micki gasped. She had to remember to torture Oz later because his eyes were watering with stifled mirth.
Oz cleared his throat and handed the CD to Aida. “This is the back up file of the photos Micki took in the park. Let’s see what could cause someone to want to kill her.”
Aida inserted the CD in her computer and the first image appeared on a huge wall-mounted screen. She ran through the pictures once and when nothing of significance emerged she sighed. “Okay, let’s go through them again and take a closer look.”
For the next two hours, Aida magnified, enhanced and printed various parts of Micki’s photos, paying special attention to the people captured in the periphery of each of the frames.
In the pictures with the lake as a background, Aida improved the images to reveal several individuals and groups of people involved in various activities. Some were boating while others jogged or strolled around the lake. There was a couple locked in an embrace and another couple walking hand-in-hand. In the background of the mother-daughter shots, Micki captured the edge of the playground where children frolicked and their parents or sitters sat nearby, watching.
“I can’t believe your camera can capture an area this wide and deep with such clarity,” Aida said.
“It’s a very expensive camera with a fine lens. It belonged to my father.” Micki pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, her temper kicking into high gear. “Funny you should mention cameras. A camera is a delicate precision instrument. It must not be forced. It must not be left in hot places and it must not be subjected to fingerprint dust.”
Aida turned to examine Micki through her thick, black rimmed glasses. “I don’t do fingerprints.”
Over Aida’s head, Micki met Oz amused expression with one of her own. She hoped it conveyed threats of grievous bodily harm.
“Sorry, I was misinformed,” she said. “In answer to your comment about my photographs, the camera is an excellent tool, not unlike an artist’s brush but it’s only as good as the artist.”
“What are you saying?” Aida asked.
“It’s a technique used by professional photographers,” Micki said. “I increased the depth of field so that the subject in the foreground is in focus and the background is in focus. I shoot in a recognizable location. It would be idiotic to have a great locale and blur out the background.”
“What about all the people in the background? Doesn’t the bride object to all the people flitting through her wedding photos?” Aida pointed to a smiling Zondra in the center of the frame with a couple of joggers appearing to emerge from her veil.
“I can selectively crop or blur out anything distracting. It’s an art form.”
“Okay,” Oz said. “Enough female bonding. Aida, can you make that larger?” He pointed to the lovers embracing and Aida made their heads fill the screen. “Anyone you recognize?”
All three viewers squinted at the faces.
“Can you enhance her face?” Micki asked. “She looks familiar. I’m thinking, society pages. I make a file of people I should recognize, you know, the beautiful people?”
Aida shook her head. “I’ll save it.”
“What about the guy?” Oz asked.
“He’s in profile.” Micki shook her head. “Not familiar to me but he’s hot.”
Oz gave her a frown. “Hot?”
“Attractive, well built...”
“Yeah, I agree. Look at the shoulders on that man,” Aida said. “And butt. Cute butt.”
“You women are savages.” Oz shook his head, but grinned.
“This from a man dating a stripper.” Micki gave him an eye roll.
“A dancer,” he corrected. “It’s an art form.”
“What’s this?” Aida pointed to one of the boats on the lake. She enlarged the area and enhanced it.
“It looks like a man rowing a boat with someone else riding in the stern.”
Micki leaned closer. “Can’t see the faces.”
“It’s probably a rental boat,” Oz said. “Blow up the letters on the side.”
“What else looks suspicious?”
“That,” Micki said. She tapped her finger on one of the playground shots.
A lone man sat on the edge of the sandbox with several gleeful children throwing handfuls of sand.
“What do you see, Micki?” Oz had come to stand beside her. “It’s a guy watching his kid play.”
“No parent would allow kids to throw sand. It would get in someone’s eyes, and he’s sitting way too close. A normal dad wouldn’t want to get the fine playground sand on his clothes.”
“Good catch, Micki,” Oz said.
Aida tilted her head to one side. “You’re right. He doesn’t bear a particular resemblance to any of the kids.
Why is he there?”
The balding man was somewhat pudgy and wore his shirttail out. His dark hair formed a cozy for the back of his head, leaving his bare pate shining on top.
Aida said she would have the photo run through the system for facial recognition.
Oz drove Micki back to his apartment while the system was searching.
“That was interesting.” She stepped through the door and dropped her bag on the sofa. “I didn’t realize they could enhance photographs to that extent.”
Oz grinned and ruffled her hair. “It’s an art form, like taking people’s pictures.”
“Like taking off one’s clothes for money?” she asked. “Or giving lap dances...for money?” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a smirk.
Oz narrowed his gaze. “You’re jealous.”
“Not even.” She hadn’t meant to open that Pandora’s Box.
“C’mon, admit it. You’re eaten up with the green-eyed monster.” He looked at her encouragingly.
“Sorry,” she said. “If you found companionship with someone else after we broke up...”
“After you broke up with me,” he corrected.
“Whatever. I have no complaints about your friend Fawn except...I find it curious that you chose someone who was my complete polar opposite to replace me with.”
“Micki, I didn’t replace you. I was just dating Fawn because. . . Because.”
“Alrighty then. Don’t you need to go back to work?”
“You anxious to get rid of me, or something?” Oz fixed her with a steady gaze.
“No, why?” A flutter of nerves started up in her stomach.
Oz widened his stance and planted his fists on his hips. “You’ve looked at your watch three times since we walked in the door. Are you expecting someone?”
“Of course not.” Micki looked away, unable to meet his piercing glare.
“Are you planning on leaving? That’s it! You’re going out.” Oz narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger. “I know you, Micki Vermillion.”
“Yes, I’m going out, Oz,” she said in a firm voice.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
She raised her chin, defying him. “To my apartment. I’m meeting Arnold Meyers, my insurance agent. You remember him?”
“I remember. Meyers is not going to protect you, Micki.”
“I don’t need protection,” she said. “You told me that whoever hit me and took my stuff thinks he got all the pictures. There’s no reason for him to be messing with me anymore.”
Oz stood with hands on hips, glaring down at her, making him appear bigger and badder. “I’m not convinced. You will not be going anywhere without a police escort.”
Micki frowned back at him. “This is not worth your time.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he growled.
An explosion of anger fueled Micki’s words. “You think you’re the judge of everything, Oz. That’s the whole problem.” She bit her lip when she saw her words register on his face, sharp as a slap.
He swallowed hard, gave her a long look and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
Micki stared at the door for a moment. She looked at her watch again and tapped her foot. “Oh, damn it all.” She called Arnold and pushed the appointment back to six that evening. She gave herself a stern talking to about picking her battles.
