officer.
The consensus was that if Lute Pettijohn hadn't
been murdered the previous afternoon, it would have
been a routine summer Saturday.
"Long, hot, and sticky," remarked one of the detectives,
yawning hugely.
"You talking about the day, or my dick?" another
joked.
"You wish."
"What about the security video?" Smilow asked,
bringing the banter to a halt. The detectives smirked
at what was obviously an inside joke. "What?"
Smilow demanded.
"You want to see it?" Collins asked.
"Is there something to see?"
After another round of snickers, Collins suggested
that Smilow take a look, and even invited Steffi to
watch the video with them. "You might learn something,"
he said to her.
Smilow and Steffi followed the detectives across
the wide mezzanine lobby and into one of the smaller
conference rooms, where a VCR machine was cued
up and ready to play on a color monitor.
With unnecessary fanfare, Collins introduced the
video. "At first the guy monitoring the security cameras
yesterday afternoon told me that the video from
the camera on that floor had been misplaced."
Smilow knew from experience that surveillance
cameras were usually attached to time-lapse
recorders that exposed one frame of video every five
to ten seconds, depending on the user's discretion.
That's why they appeared jumpy when replayed.
Typically they recorded for days before automatically
rewinding.
"What was the tape doing out of the machine?
Aren't the tapes generally left in the recorders and recycled
unless there's a need to view them?"
"That was my first tip-off that he was lying,"
Collins said. "So I kept after him. Finally he coughed
up this video. Ready?"
Getting a nod from Smilow, he pushed the play
button on the VCR. Even if there had been no accompanying
video, the sound track was unmistakably
that of a triple-X-rated film. The sighs and moans
were background for a grainy moving picture of a
couple engaged in a sexual act.
"This scene runs for about fifteen minutes,"
Collins explained. "After the come shot, it switches
to two broads in a bathtub getting each other off.
Then it's got your basic domination scene with--"
"I get it," Smilow snapped. "Turn it off." He ignored
the boos and hisses from the other men in the
room. "Sorry, Steffi."
"Don't be. Detective Collins's little joke at my expense
merely supports my theory that the phrase 'adult male' is a contradiction in terms."
The other men laughed, but Collins harrumphed,
unfazed by the put-down. "Here's the kicker," he told
them. "Pettijohn's boast about state-of-the-art security
was so much hot air. The cameras on the guest
room floors are bogus. Dummies."
"What?" Steffi exclaimed.
"The only working camera in the entire complex is
in the accounting department. Pettijohn didn't want
anybody stealing from him, but I guess he didn't care
if his guests got robbed or bumped off. The joke's on
him, huh?"
Smilow asked, "Why did the kid lie?"
"That's what he'd been told to do. By big bad Pettijohn
himself. We're not talking about a rocket scientist
here, so he held tough even after we assured
him that Pettijohn was dead and that the only thing he
had to fear was lying to us. He finally cracked. We
checked it out. The cameras are shills."
"How many people know that?"
"My guess would be not too many."
"Check it out. Start with people in managerial positions."
"Will do."
Addressing the group at large, Smilow said, "First
thing in the morning, we start on Pettijohn's enemies.
We'll compile a list--"
"Or we could save ourselves the trouble and just
use the phone book," one of the men quipped.
"Everybody I know will be glad the son of a bitch is
dead."
Smilow shot him a hard look.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, his smile vanishing. "I
forgot you two were kin."
"We weren't kin. He was married to my sister. For
a while. That's it. I probably had less liking for him
than anyone."
Steffi leaned forward. "You didn't pop him, did
you,
The consensus was that if Lute Pettijohn hadn't
been murdered the previous afternoon, it would have
been a routine summer Saturday.
"Long, hot, and sticky," remarked one of the detectives,
yawning hugely.
"You talking about the day, or my dick?" another
joked.
"You wish."
"What about the security video?" Smilow asked,
bringing the banter to a halt. The detectives smirked
at what was obviously an inside joke. "What?"
Smilow demanded.
"You want to see it?" Collins asked.
"Is there something to see?"
After another round of snickers, Collins suggested
that Smilow take a look, and even invited Steffi to
watch the video with them. "You might learn something,"
he said to her.
Smilow and Steffi followed the detectives across
the wide mezzanine lobby and into one of the smaller
conference rooms, where a VCR machine was cued
up and ready to play on a color monitor.
With unnecessary fanfare, Collins introduced the
video. "At first the guy monitoring the security cameras
yesterday afternoon told me that the video from
the camera on that floor had been misplaced."
Smilow knew from experience that surveillance
cameras were usually attached to time-lapse
recorders that exposed one frame of video every five
to ten seconds, depending on the user's discretion.
That's why they appeared jumpy when replayed.
Typically they recorded for days before automatically
rewinding.
"What was the tape doing out of the machine?
Aren't the tapes generally left in the recorders and recycled
unless there's a need to view them?"
"That was my first tip-off that he was lying,"
Collins said. "So I kept after him. Finally he coughed
up this video. Ready?"
Getting a nod from Smilow, he pushed the play
button on the VCR. Even if there had been no accompanying
video, the sound track was unmistakably
that of a triple-X-rated film. The sighs and moans
were background for a grainy moving picture of a
couple engaged in a sexual act.
"This scene runs for about fifteen minutes,"
Collins explained. "After the come shot, it switches
to two broads in a bathtub getting each other off.
Then it's got your basic domination scene with--"
"I get it," Smilow snapped. "Turn it off." He ignored
the boos and hisses from the other men in the
room. "Sorry, Steffi."
"Don't be. Detective Collins's little joke at my expense
merely supports my theory that the phrase 'adult male' is a contradiction in terms."
The other men laughed, but Collins harrumphed,
unfazed by the put-down. "Here's the kicker," he told
them. "Pettijohn's boast about state-of-the-art security
was so much hot air. The cameras on the guest
room floors are bogus. Dummies."
"What?" Steffi exclaimed.
"The only working camera in the entire complex is
in the accounting department. Pettijohn didn't want
anybody stealing from him, but I guess he didn't care
if his guests got robbed or bumped off. The joke's on
him, huh?"
Smilow asked, "Why did the kid lie?"
"That's what he'd been told to do. By big bad Pettijohn
himself. We're not talking about a rocket scientist
here, so he held tough even after we assured
him that Pettijohn was dead and that the only thing he
had to fear was lying to us. He finally cracked. We
checked it out. The cameras are shills."
"How many people know that?"
"My guess would be not too many."
"Check it out. Start with people in managerial positions."
"Will do."
Addressing the group at large, Smilow said, "First
thing in the morning, we start on Pettijohn's enemies.
We'll compile a list--"
"Or we could save ourselves the trouble and just
use the phone book," one of the men quipped.
"Everybody I know will be glad the son of a bitch is
dead."
Smilow shot him a hard look.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled, his smile vanishing. "I
forgot you two were kin."
"We weren't kin. He was married to my sister. For
a while. That's it. I probably had less liking for him
than anyone."
Steffi leaned forward. "You didn't pop him, did
you,
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