Obsessed (4 page)

“How do you know that?”

Andy spoke up. “I told her. And that’s what my uncle told me. He’s a detective with the Burbank Police Depart ment.”

“Your uncle’s a detective?” Mr. Calloway looked sur prised. “You never mentioned that before.”

Andy nodded. “I know
—
it’s something I don’t usually talk about. I’d never get invited to any parties if my friends knew I had a cop in my family.”

“I see.” Mr. Calloway looked amused for a moment, but then he turned serious again. “What else did your uncle tell you, Andy?”

“He said they found Deana’s car about two miles from where she was killed, and the gas tank was empty.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Mr. Calloway frowned. “Deana told me she was late because she had to stop for gas.”

Judy looked thoughtful. “Somebody could have siphoned the gas from her tank. That happened to me a couple of weeks ago.”

“Here?” Mr. Calloway looked surprised when Judy nod ded. “I guess we’d better keep an eye on the cars in our parking lot.”

Judy nodded. “I already do that. I go out a couple of times every night, between numbers.”

“Well . . . keep it up.” Mr. Calloway smiled at her ap provingly. “And I want everybody to check to make sure they’ve got plenty of gas before they leave, okay?”

Everyone nodded, and then Judy turned to Andy. “Did your uncle tell you if they had any leads?”

“Not really.” Andy hesitated for a moment, and then he sighed. “But I can tell you more if you want to hear it. It’ll all be in the paper tomorrow anyway.”

“Tell us.” Michael looked upset as he leaned forward. “I want to know what happened. Maybe there’s something we can do to help the police.”

“Okay. I’ll tell you everything I know.” Andy took a deep breath and began. “They found Deana about two miles from her car. Somebody hit her over the head with a blunt in strument, and then they . . .” Andy stopped and swallowed hard. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

Judy nodded. “We’re sure. You said it was going to be the papers tomorrow, anyway.”

“Right.” Andy swallowed again. “Well . . . after she was dead, somebody stuck . . . uh . . . they stuck an arrow in her chest.”

Mr. Calloway’s mouth dropped open. “An arrow? But . . . why?”

“That’s what they’re trying to figure out. They think it might be some sort of gang symbol.”

“They didn’t . . . uh . . . rape her, did they?” Michael looked horrified.

“No. They just hit her and killed her, then stuck in that arrow.”

Berto winced. “I’ll ask around on the street, but I’ve never heard of any gang that uses arrows. That’s weird . . . unless they’re Indian or something.”

“Maybe it’s part of some kooky new religion.” Carla looked puzzled. “Was it a real arrow?”

Andy nodded. “It was the kind you use for archery prac tice. You can buy them at almost any sporting goods store.”

“Did they shoot it from a bow?” Mary Beth shivered slightly.

“No. They just kind of stuck it there.”

“Maybe it means she was targeted.” Vera’s face was white. “You shoot arrows at a target, right?”

“That’s what I thought.” Andy nodded. “It must mean something or they wouldn’t have left it there. And my uncle says they’ve never had any trouble with an Indian gang before.”

“Who else uses arrows?” Nita looked puzzled. “Indians, and sportsmen, and . . . I can’t think of anyone else.”

Judy frowned slightly as she answered. “Cupid uses arrows.”

“Cupid?” Andy raised his eyebrows. “I bet they didn’t think of that. Do you mind if I tell my uncle?”

Judy shrugged. “Go ahead. I just thought of it because Michael sang that song about Cupid last month.”

“How about Robin Hood?” Linda frowned slightly. “Did they steal anything from Deana?”

“Her wallet’s missing. You might be onto something, Linda. But Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave it to the poor. And Deana wasn’t rich.”

“But they might have thought she was.” Ingrid sighed enviously. “She sure spent a lot of money on clothes.”

Mr. Calloway glanced at his watch. “Okay, guys. Let’s break this up. It’s almost midnight. Who’s going to follow Ingrid home?”

“I will.” Michael spoke up. “I’ll do a caravan with Mary Beth, Ingrid, and Becky.”

Mr. Calloway looked puzzled. “But they’re in the other direction. Wouldn’t it be better if you followed Judy home? She lives right next door to you.”

“I have to go to Becky’s house anyway.” Michael ex plained. “We’re going to take a couple of minutes, and go over her new material.”

“Tonight?” Carla looked surprised.

“We have to do it tonight,” Becky said to all of them. “I’ve got an audition at Laughs Galore tomorrow night.”

“Congratulations!” Mr. Calloway looked pleased. “It’s a good club, Becky. I’ve met the owner and he treats his people right. But we’re going to miss you if you get the job.”

Becky laughed. “No, you won’t. If I get the spot, he only wants me for Sunday nights. And that means I can still work at Covers . . . if you want me.”

“Of course I want you. You’re the best comedian we’ve ever had, and the audience loves you.”

“Let’s just hope they love me at Laughs Galore.” Becky looked a little nervous.

“They’ll adore you, just like we do—I already told you that.” Michael slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. Then he turned to the group. “She’s on at ten-thirty tomorrow night.”

Carla spoke up. “Do you want us to come and laugh at all your jokes?”

“That’s really nice of you, but . . . well . . . it’s really not necessary.” Becky looked slightly embarrassed. “Michael’s coming, and he’s really all the audience I need.”

Mr. Calloway shook his head. “Nonsense! The more laughs you get, the better your chances are. I’ll be there.”

“Me, too.” Vera nodded.

“I’ll bring Nita, and we’ll invite our older sister and her husband.” Berto spoke up. “That’ll be four more.”

Ingrid nodded. “I’ll come. How about you, Mary Beth?”

“Sure, if I can ride with you. Are you in, Judy?”

“Of course,” Judy nodded.

One by one, everyone promised to come to Becky’s audition. It was the first time one of their group had auditioned for an outside job, and they were all prepared to give Becky lots of support.

“Okay.” Mr. Calloway stood up. “Does everybody have rides arranged?”

Carla nodded. “We’re all set, Mr. Calloway. Judy? Will you help me lock up the office?”

“Sure.” Judy was slightly puzzled. Carla had never asked for help before. But when they got to the office, Carla turned to her with a frown on her face.

“They’re going on with the contest, aren’t they?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Judy looked at Carla in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

“Becky. Deana’s only been dead for twenty-four hours, and she’s already moving in on Michael.”

“I noticed that. But maybe Becky’s just nervous about her audition. Michael’s always helped her with her new material.”

“At midnight?” Carla raised her eyebrows. “Well . . . we’ll see. She hasn’t said anything to you about giving her points, has she?”

“Not a word.”

“If she does, I think you should warn her to be very careful. I’ve been thinking about what you said about Cupid, and it makes some kind of crazy sense. It’s possible Deana was killed because she was going out with Michael.”

“You think one of the group killed her because they were jealous that she was winning?”

Carla shrugged. “I don’t think anything. I just pointed out that it’s a possible connection if your Cupid theory is right. I’d warn her myself, but . . . well, you know how the other girls feel about me.”

Judy nodded. It was true. The other girls really didn’t like Carla, and they’d laugh in her face if she tried to warn them.

“Will you just think about it, Judy? The girls all like you, and they’d listen.”

“I’ll think about it,” Judy promised. She smiled at Carla. “It’s really nice of you to be so concerned, especially when the other girls have been so nasty to you.”

Carla shrugged, and then she grinned. “Well, I have an ulterior motive. If any more girls get killed off, Mr. Calloway might decide to close Covers down. And I really like this job.”

Four

When Judy pulled into the Laughs Galore parking lot, she was surprised to see Becky’s yellow Toyota parked by the rear door. Michael’s old white Lincoln was parked next to it, so they hadn’t driven here together. Perhaps Carla was wrong, and Becky wasn’t planning on trying to snare Michael, after all.

Judy found a space between Mr. Calloway’s big black Cadillac and Andy’s full-sized red Blazer, and squeezed her gray Volvo in. It had been a sixteenth-birthday present from her adoptive parents, the safest car that money could buy. Of course, Judy would have preferred some wheels that didn’t make her feel like a well-to-do, middle-aged matron. The expensive Volvo set her apart from the rest of the high school crowd, but Judy solved the problem by telling ev eryone that she was using her mother’s car.

Getting out of the Volvo was a slight problem since the spaces were all designed for compact cars, and she was flanked by two huge American vehicles. It took some ma neuvering, but she managed to wiggle out without getting any grime on her best jeans and sweater.

The back door was locked, and Judy walked around to the front entrance on Ventura Boulevard. The bright blue Laughs Galore building had been a small theatrical play house for most of its existence, and it had been converted to a comedy club several years ago. Mr. Calloway had once told her that location was everything, and Judy could see why Laughs Galore was so popular. This wasn’t the ritziest area of Ventura Boulevard, but it was only a short drive to the famous restaurants and shops. Judy doubted that the rent was very expensive—after all, Laughs Galore was right next door to a cut-rate muffler shop. But the building had easy access to several freeways, and it was in the right lo cation to attract a lot of business.

“Judy! Wait up!”

Judy turned and waved as she saw Linda and Mary Beth racing across the street. Mary Beth had driven her lime green Volkswagen Bug, and she’d found a parking spot in front of a dry cleaners with the slogan, We’re sixty years old but we don’t
have wrinkles.

“This is very nice.” Linda gazed up at the marquee, and sighed. Laughs Galore was featuring the comedy of Hank Brothers, a comedian the girls had never heard of. “Do you think I’ll ever see my name up in lights?” she asked.

Mary Beth grinned at her. “Of course you will—espe cially if your parents buy a sign.”

“Very funny.” Linda glared at Mary Beth, but then she started to laugh. “I just hope Becky’s as funny as you are tonight.”

When they got inside the lobby, they found Mr. Calloway waiting for them. He’d arrived early and reserved three tables for the Covers crowd. As he led them through the crowded showroom, Judy gazed around her in awe. There had to be at least a hundred people here. At five dollars a head, Laughs Galore was pulling in some decent cash, especially since every table seemed to have a round of
drinks, and waitresses were hurrying back and forth, filling orders.

Judy was pleased as she joined the middle table. Every one who worked at Covers had shown up to watch Becky’s audition. Berto and Nita had brought their older sister and her husband, Vera was there with a handsome guy she said was her brother, and even Carla had shown up. Naturally, Carla was alone.

Mr. Calloway ordered a round of soft drinks, and Judy nursed hers slowly, like everyone else. Although she had plenty of spending money, she knew none of the others could afford to pay for more than one outrageously priced Coke.

Mr. Calloway table-hopped between acts, and when he came back to their table, he looked a little nervous. “Now remember, girls . . .
”

“We know, Mr. Calloway.” Linda grinned at him. “We’re supposed to laugh at all of Becky’s jokes, whether they’re funny or not.”

“You got it.” Mr. Calloway sat down next to Judy, and took a deep breath. “What time is it?”

Judy glanced at her watch, which was difficult to see in the dim light. She stretched her arm toward the candle on the table and finally managed to read the dial. “It’s ten twenty-five. They should be doing Becky’s intro any minute now.”

Just then the lights came up, and Howie Thomas, the owner of the club, came out. He’d been a comedian in the fifties, and he was still pretty funny.

“We’ve got a little surprise for you tonight. One of my best buddies is here, and he owns a teen club in Burbank called Covers. Stan Calloway and I have been good friends for years, and he’s got a real eye for upcoming talent. Stand up and take a bow, Stan
.”

Mr. Calloway stood up and everyone applauded. Then he sat down again, and muttered to them in an undertone. “That’s show biz, girls. I only met him once, and that was ten years ago.”

“Stan brought us his best stand-up comic, Miss Becky Fischer. Becky’s a doll, folks, and she’s a very funny little lady. Let’s all give a hearty Laughs Galore welcome to . . . Becky Fischer!”