Stanley would reply, “That’s wonderful, because there’s a scene where the character in the movie gyrates all over the place while she’s in the audience at a Stones concert. Mick notices her and struts over to the edge of the stage and whispers in her ear, (Here, he would suddenly evoke his finest English accent with just the right Mick Jagger inflection) ‘Meet me backstage after the show, luv?’ Mick then hands her a backstage pass. And of course that’s how Mick ends up taking her to bed.”
Sara would nearly faint after hearing all of this. “I don’t believe it! Oh Mr. Quincy, you have simply got to give me that part!”
“Please Sara-call me Hugh,” he would demand warmly. “I’ll tell you what. If you can prove to me that you can dance-and I mean really dance-then I’d say you’re as good as in.”
“Oh Hugh, that’s terrific!” Sara would gush.
Then his expression would become somewhat grave. “There’s only one problem, though. In this particular scene, the character dances to Honky Tonk Woman while engaged in dialogue with Mick. I would prefer everything to be as realistic as possible but I’m afraid I don’t have enough time to set up a soundstage on such short notice-”
“I’ve got it, Hugh! Why don’t you just come to my apartment and audition me there? If it wouldn’t be too much bother, that is.”
His eyes would suddenly light up just enough. “That’s a wonderful idea, Sara…”
Then they would set up a time for this impromptu audition-no doubt early evening after Sara got off work and had time to clean up for the big moment. Stanley would copy down her address and phone number, finish his breakfast, leave her a fat tip, and give her a reassuring wink just before he left the coffee shop.
Stanley smiled sardonically as he visualized the whole scenario. There was no doubt in his mind that the plan would work, especially when taking into account Sara Hunt’s more than apparent weaknesses and overall naivete. The only shaky part would be the risk of his being seen by nosey neighbors either while entering or exiting her apartment building. The building had a total of 48 units and the odds of this happening were of course considerably high. But the odds of any of the neighbors seeing him actually enter her flat were much less likely and the reason for this was simple: the building’s front door lock was broken and had been ever since he’d first gotten into town. This would give him the opportunity to enter the building at his leisure without having to be buzzed in by Sara.
The other potential risk would be Sara’s roommate, Tonya Spellman. Stanley already knew that Tonya was scheduled to work tomorrow evening and shouldn’t pose any real threat but there was always a slim possibility that she may skip work for some reason or another. If this were the case, the mission would have to be nixed and another one implemented. Stanley however had his doubts that Tonya would stay at the apartment even if she decided to skip work. It was fairly evident that Sara Hunt and her roommate lived pretty much independently of one another and it was his hunch that if Sara anticipated that Tonya might be planning on being at the apartment tomorrow evening she would most likely tell her roommate that she was expecting some company and would prefer that she not be around. Tonya would most likely oblige her wishes.
Stanley felt his pulse quicken as he turned and began making his way though the darkness toward the door. The anticipation of tomorrow’s mission nearly overwhelmed him as he pictured Sara Hunt dancing nude to Honky Tonk Woman as he snapped off a few quick shots of her with his camera. She would give him the best show she’d ever given anyone, all full of enthusiasm and trying her damnedest to please him so she could have the part that would launch her into movie stardom. He would wait until the song was over, applaud her animated performance and beautiful body, and then let her know that she had made Stanley Jenkins one happy camper.
Then, before Sara had the chance to get over the shock of what a complete naive fool she’d been, Stanley would proceed to fuck the living daylights out of her and make her regret the day that she had shit all over Stanley Jenkins all those years ago.
Then he would make her suffer for a while.
And then he would finally murder her.
CHAPTER 21
Sam eased up on the accelerator when he glanced at the speedometer and saw that he was doing almost seventy-five mph. All he needed now was to get pulled over for speeding by one of southern Ohio’s notoriously efficient highway patrolmen to add to the mounting anxiety he was now experiencing. He watched the needle and waited until the Jeep had coasted down to an even sixty as he continued his journey west on Route 52.
It was a crisp sunny Saturday afternoon and he couldn’t help but gaze at the vibrant fall colors of the foothills skirting the Ohio River from time to time as he made his way west back to Smithtown. For a moment he wished that he was still with Shelley-it would have been a perfect day to got out into the woods somewhere and take in the beautiful autumn foliage. By next weekend, he knew that the all too brief majesty of fall in southern Ohio would be history-the trees would be all but bare and what few leaves remained would have turned from brilliant red, orange or yellow to a withered dull brown.
The urge to turn around and go back to Shelley’s apartment entered his mind again for the umpteenth time but he knew he couldn’t do it no matter how tempting it was. He’d learned long ago that once something started nagging at him as much as this was that he wouldn’t be able to function at all until he had the matter resolved. Shelley Hatcher was just gong to have to be put on hold for now.
He wasn’t sure now exactly when it had first hit him. It was one of those lingering thoughts in the back of your mind that begins eating at you and won’t let up until you finally acknowledge its presence. Sam realized now that it started to bug him at the debate last night, but at the time he’d been too busy jotting down the questionable highlights of the damn thing to give it any real thought.
When the debate was finally over and he had snapped a few quick shots of the candidates, he had hastily headed for the Jeep and drove across the Ohio River to Kentucky-bound for Ashland in heavy anticipation of a stiff drink and Shelley Hatcher’s companionship for the rest of the night. Throughout the fifteen-minute drive, the nagging thought was still there, but had apparently been overshadowed by his desire to be with Shelley, his attempt to forget the boring debate he’d just endured, and the rift he’d had with Ann earlier that evening.
Once he’d finally arrived at Shelley’s small but cozy and clean apartment, he had immediately proceeded to dive head first into the booze. As they drank, they watched a video that Shelley had rented-a “B” movie thriller that he still couldn’t even remember the name of. Then they had gotten naked and rolled around for a while until they both passed out in her bed. They slept until noon and Shelley had fixed a nice breakfast that had helped ward off the relentless hangover he’d been experiencing.
All of this time, the nagging thought continued lingering somewhere in his mind as he’d downed several cups of mega strong coffee.
And then it suddenly came to him.
Amy’s letter Something about the letter Amy had written. There was something wrong about it.
Something in the letter Amy had just sent him was either out of kilter or just plain didn’t make sense. The problem was, he had absolutely no idea what it was. He just knew it was there.
Sam had mulled it over in his head for while, trying to recall what all his daughter had written, but eventually realized that the only way he was going to know for sure was to got back to Smithtown and read it again.
So he had announced to Shelley that he had to leave, apologized, gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then hopped into the Cherokee and made a beeline for the highway. Shelley was hurt-he could tell by the look in her eyes-but she had been understanding and hadn’t prodded him as to why he had to leave so abruptly.