True-Life Adventure

galled me because it meant dealing with Blick, but I was worried enough to give it a try.
    I called him when we got back: “Howard, this is Paul Mcdonald.”
    “Eat shit and die, turkey.”
    To my everlasting credit I didn’t hang up. To this day, when I think about it, my right hand automatically snakes around and pats my lats. “Howard, I’ve got some very import—”
    Click. So much for the boys in blue. I called Susanna Flores.
    Then Sardis made a call. I listened to Lindsay’s second tape as she played it for the person on the other end of the line:
    “Hello, Jacob, this is Lindsay. I believe you killed Jack Birnbaum, Mike Brissette, and Peter Tillman and that this tape could help convict you. I have given Sardis Kincannon another copy in a sealed envelope to be opened in the event that either she or I should die. By the time you get this, the other copy will be in a safe-deposit box.”
    The tape stopped there. Sardis spoke into the phone: “There’s more. Lindsay said it was an insurance policy to keep us safe. I wasn’t supposed to listen to it, but I got curious. I don’t really think Lindsay’s in danger from Jacob, so I don’t think she needs an insurance policy, you know? And I thought you might be able to use the tapes. I’m not greedy. I was thinking something in the neighborhood of ten thousand dollars. You could get that much by tonight, easy.”
    There was a pause.
    “Well, five thousand will do for now, then. After all, there are two tapes. One of them will be on sale at midnight at Pandorf Associates. You know the ferry?”
    She hung up and grinned at me. “It’s set.”
    We had asked for ten thousand on the theory that it sounded like a reasonable amount for an amateur blackmailer and that at least half of it ought to be readily available on a day’s notice. Our nerves weren’t good for more than a day.
    At ten o’clock we met Susanna Flores at the ferry. She had a cameraman with her, one named Freddie and equipped with a Minicam. I did a stand-up for him.
    “This is Paul Mcdonald,” I said. “I called Police Inspector Howard Blick today to give him information I thought would be helpful in a homicide investigation. He called me ‘turkey’ and hung up. I have a tape recording of that telephone call. The police have no part in the ‘sting’ recorded on this videotape. Susanna Flores of Channel 5 and I hope that it will be valuable evidence in the arrest and conviction of a killer.”
    The point of that speech was to authenticate the tape. I didn’t know whether the thing would hold up as evidence, but I was going to try my damndest to get it into court. How I was going to get the cops to look at it was another matter— maybe Susanna would have to air it.
    Sardis took us to a little room about midway between bow and stern. It was well-appointed with soft, deep plushy gray sofas. One wall was mirrored. “This,” said Sardis, “is where we hold the focus groups.”
    “How’s that?” asked Freddie.
    “Market research groups. You put a bunch of people in a room and get them to talk about fast-food joints or something. Then the client— Mcdonald’s, say— can find out whether people like their golden arches, or whatever they want to know. We’ve got microphones in the ceiling, and of course the mirrors are really one-way windows.”
    “You mean we can tape from the next room?”
    “We often do ourselves. It’s a great room for extortion, isn’t it? Everything all comfy and private. Perfect little false sense of security.” Sardis spoke confidently. I wished I felt as upbeat about this crazy caper as she did.
    At midnight Freddie, Susanna, and I were in place in the viewing room. Sardis was sitting alone in the reception room, waiting for a killer who was a few minutes late.
    At 12:10 the doorbell rang. We heard Sardis answer it and talk to someone. Then we heard their footsteps, and then they entered the room where Pandorf held the focus groups. It was spooky, being able to see them like that— hard to believe they couldn’t see back. Sardis’s companion looked around the room, appraising it. It seemed to me that our eyes locked for a moment. But that was impossible— I had to tell myself that to keep still.
    “No one’s on the boat,” said Sardis. “But every now and then someone comes down for some reason. No one’ll bother us here.”
    Steve Koehler nodded. “It’s a nice room.”
    “Make yourself at home.” Sardis sat down, and pointed to a