'Yeah.'
'I like Cinema Paradiso a lot,' Jessica said. 'One of my favorite movies of all times. Ever see that one?'
'Sure,' Adam said. Even brighter, now. 'Giuseppe Tornatore is great. Maybe even the heir apparent to Fellini.'
Adam was beginning to relax somewhat. He had been twisting that piece of cardboard into a tight spiral, which he now put down. It looked stiff enough to be a swizzle stick. Jessica sat in the battered metal chair opposite him. Just two people talking, now. Talking about a vicious homicide someone had videotaped.
'Did you watch this alone?' Jessica asked.
'Yeah.' There was a morsel of melancholy in his answer, as if he had recently broken off a relationship and was accustomed to watching videos with a partner.
'When did you watch it?'
Adam picked up the cardboard swizzle stick again. 'Well, I get off work at my second job at midnight, I get home around twelve thirty. I usually take a shower and eat something. I guess I started it around one or one thirty. Maybe two.'
'Did you watch it straight through?'
'No,' Adam said. 'I watched up until Janet Leigh gets to the motel.'
'Then what?'
'Then I shut it off and went to bed. I watched… the rest this morning. Before I left for school. Or, before I was going to leave for school. When I saw the… you know, I called the cops. Police. I called the police.'
'Did anyone else see this?'
Adam shook his head.
'Did you tell anybody about it?'
'No.'
'Was this tape in your possession the whole time?'
'I'm not sure what you mean.'
'From the time you rented it until the time you called the police, did you have possession of the tape?' 'Yes.'
'You didn't leave it in your car for a while, leave it with a friend, leave it in a backpack or a book bag that you hung on a coatrack somewhere public?'
'No,' Adam said. 'Nothing like that. I rented it, took it home, and put it on top of the TV.'
'And you live alone.'
Another grimace. He had just broken up with someone. 'Yes.'
'Was anyone in your apartment when you were at work yesterday evening?'
'I don't think so,' Adam said. 'No. I really doubt it.'
'No one else has a key?'
'Just the landlord. And I've been trying to get him to fix my shower for, like, a year. I doubt he would come around without me being there.'
Jessica made a few notes. 'Have you ever rented this movie from The Reel Deal before?'
Adam looked at the floor for a few moments, thinking. 'The movie or this particular tape?'
'Either.'
'I think I rented the DVD of Psycho from them last year.'
'Why did you rent the VHS version this time?'
'My DVD player is broken. I have an optical drive in my laptop, but I don't really like watching movies on a computer. The sound kind of sucks.'
'Where was this tape in the store when you rented it?'
'Where was it?'
'I mean, do they display the tapes on racks there, or do they just have empty boxes on the racks and keep the tapes behind the counter?'
'No, they have actual tapes on display.'
'Where was this tape?'
'There's a section called Classics. It was in there.'
'Are they displayed alphabetically?'
'I think so.'
'Do you recall if this movie was right where it was supposed to be on the rack?'
'I don't remember.'
'Did you rent anything else along with this?'
Adam drained of what little color remained in his face, as if the idea, the very notion, that other tapes might contain something this horrible was a possibility. 'No. That was the only one.'
'Do you know any of the other customers there?'
'Not really.'
'Do you know anyone else who may have rented this tape?'
'No,' he said.
'Here's a tough one,' Jessica said. 'Are you ready?' I guess so.
'Do you recognize the young woman on the tape?'
Adam swallowed hard, shook his head. 'Sorry.'
'That's okay,' Jessica said. 'We're just about done for now. You're doing great.'
This dislodged a crooked half smile from the young man. The fact that he was going to leave soon-the fact that he was going to leave at all-seemed to lift a heavy yoke from his shoulders. Jessica made a few more notes, glanced at her watch.
Adam asked: 'Can I ask you something?'
'Sure.'
'Is that part, like, real?'
'We're not certain.'
Adam nodded. Jessica held his gaze, looking for the slightest sign that he might be hiding something. All she found was a young man who stumbled onto something bizarre and, probably, terrifyingly real. Talk about your horror movie.
'Okay, Mr. Kaslov,' she said. 'We appreciate you bringing this in. We'll be in touch.'
'Okay,' Adam said. 'Are we done?'
'Yes. And we'd appreciate it if you didn't discuss this with anyone for the time being.' I won t.
They stood, shook hands. Adam Kaslov's hand was ice.
'One of the officers will walk you down,' Jessica added.
'Thanks,' he said.
As the young man walked out into the duty room of the Homicide Unit, Jessica glanced at the two-way mirror. Although she couldn't see through it, she didn't have to read Kevin Byrne's face to know they were in total agreement. Chances were good that Adam Kaslov had nothing to do with the crime committed on the tape.
If, in fact, a crime had actually been committed.
Byrne told Jessica he would meet her in the parking lot. When he found himself relatively alone and unobserved in the duty room, he sat at one of the computers, ran a check on Julian Matisse. As expected, there was nothing current. There had been a break-in at Matisse's mother's house a year earlier, but nothing involving Julian. Matisse had been in prison for the past two years. His list of known associates was outdated as well. Byrne printed off the addresses anyway, tore the sheet from the printer.
Then, although he may have been screwing up another detective's work, he dumped the computer's cache and erased the PCIC history for the day.
On the ground floor of the Roundhouse, in the back, was a lunchroom with a dozen or so battered booths, a dozen tables. The food was passable, the coffee was forty-weight. A bank of vending machines held down one wall. Large windows with an unobstructed view of the air- conditioning units held down the other.
As Jessica grabbed a pair of coffees for her and Byrne, Terry Cahill walked into the room, approached her. The handful of uniformed cops and detectives scattered around the room gave him the casual, appraising eye. He really did have fed written all over him, right down to his highly polished yet sensible cordovan oxfords. Jessica
