Watch Them Die

view into Lester’s recreation room—with a state-of-the-art entertainment center, a fireplace, and bar. No family pictures. The guy was probably divorced. His place looked too much like a bachelor pad for any woman to be living there.

Lester made a couple of phone calls, poured himself a drink at the bar, and finally settled down in front of an adult movie on his flat, wide-screen TV. The camera zoomed in on the girl-on-girl action. It must have been from his private DVD collection. Through the glass doors, the audio caught muffled purrs and moans from the two porn actresses pleasuring each other.

The camera’s audio also captured the sound of a car pulling up the front drive. Lester Hall must have heard it, too. He switched off his movie.

The next image caught on video was a tall brunette taking a duffel bag and a large folded-up case from the backseat of a cab. She wore tight jeans, a stylishly torn sweatshirt, and heels. The camera zoomed in for a close- up. Her hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. She’d overdone the mascara, and her maroon lips appeared swollen by collagen. She paid the cab driver and carried the bag and bulky case to Lester’s front door. The audio picked up the curious click-click of her high heels on the pavement.

Lester greeted her at the door, then ushered her inside. A series of shots into the windows along the side of the house yielded nothing but images of empty rooms. It was back in the large recreation room that Lester and his guest settled. He didn’t bother helping her with her case or the bag. But he did fix her a drink at the bar.

The woman opened the oblong case, which turned out to be a massage table. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna call,” she said, the words barely audible through the glass doors.

“It’s every Tuesday night,” he said, handing her a drink. “Shouldn’t be too tough to remember.”

“I remembered. I thought you’d forgotten.” She pulled out a folded sheet from the duffel bag and spread it over the table. Lester Hall grabbed the remote and clicked on some jazz music; then he began to undress.

So did the girl. Lester stopped to watch her shed the torn jersey top, then peel down her jeans. For a moment, she posed for him, running her hands up and down her tanned body, stopping to caress her breasts. All she wore was a red thong. She pointed to the table, whispered something, then sauntered away—most likely to the bathroom.

While she was gone, Lester finished undressing. With his barrel chest, protruding gut, and spindly legs, he didn’t look good naked. Despite the porn earlier and the girl stripping for him just now, Lester’s penis looked small and flaccid. He sipped his drink before laying facedown on the table.

A minute passed before the tall brunette returned. She pulled down the flimsy thong, then reached for a bottle of oil. She started massaging his back.

The camera zoomed in on her face. It caught a flicker of sadness in those heavily made-up eyes.

As was now his custom, Paul Gulletti took the empty seat beside Hannah in class that Thursday night. Hannah furtively glanced at his assistant, Seth, who rolled his eyes and smirked at her. He was standing in his usual spot by the windows. He strolled over to the projector and switched on the movie, Chinatown.

Ben Sturges sat in the back of the room tonight. At the beginning of class, Hannah had peeked over her shoulder at him, but he didn’t seem to notice her. The tall, black transvestite, Dede or Dodo or whatever her name was, had been bending his ear about something.

During the movie, Paul leaned over and asked if she was free for dinner one night during the upcoming week. “I was thinking of the Hotel Monaco,” he whispered. “They have a wonderful restaurant there. You’ll love it.”

Hannah tried to smile. “Well, Paul, I’d like go over my notes with you on movies that broke the blacklist. But I think the Hotel Monaco is a bit too fancy for something like that.” She shrugged. “I’ll have my notebook and a couple of library books with me. Maybe we can meet someplace for coffee instead, a Starbucks or—”

“Hannah, I’m trying to ask you out for a lovely dinner,” he whispered. “We can discuss the blacklist project some other time. I think we both owe ourselves a nice evening out.”

Hannah glanced up at the movie for a moment; then she turned to Paul again and leaned closer to him. “Um, Paul, I want to help you with your project, and I’ll gladly meet you for coffee or something. But if you’re asking me out on a date, I don’t date married men.”

He frowned a little. “Funny, I thought you were serious about wanting that job at my newspaper.”

“I’m very serious about it,” Hannah replied.

“Well, you sure fooled me,” Paul grumbled. Then he settled back to watch the film.

Hannah turned toward the screen. She yearned to tell him, You’re the one who’s not serious about this job possibility. You just want to get me into bed, you sleaze-bucket. But she didn’t risk saying it. What if he really did intend to help her out? Maybe socializing a bit with him was a part of that.

When the movie ended and the lights came on, Paul said to her under his breath, “Listen, stick around after class, okay? We should talk.”

With a sigh, Hannah nodded, then retreated to the hallway. She bought a box of Milk Duds from the vending machine.

“How are you doing?”

She turned to see Ben Sturges smiling at her.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Hannah coolly replied, taking a little step back.

He leaned against the vending machine. “I want to apologize for acting like such a horse’s ass last week. It’s really none of my business whether or not you’re—ah, involved with the teacher. I was way out of line. I’m sorry.”

Hannah glanced down at the box of Milk Duds in her hand. “Well, for the record, I’m not involved with Paul Gulletti. He’s married, and I don’t date married men.” She shrugged. “So, would you like a Milk Dud?”

He held out his hand. “Yeah, thanks.”

Hannah shook a couple of Milk Duds into his palm. She had a hard time looking directly at him. His apology was endearing, and she found him very attractive. Maybe that was why she couldn’t really trust him. It was part of her history that she had lousy taste in guys.

“Great movie, huh?” he said. “Have you seen any other Roman Polanski movies?”

“Knife in the Water, Tess, and Rosemary’s Baby.” She popped a Milk Dud in her mouth. “In fact, someone just loaned me a video of Rosemary’s Baby last week.”

“That’s weird. You have people loaning you videos? I figured you could rent them for free.”

Hannah stared at him, eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you work in a video store, don’t you?”

“Yes, but how do you know that? I didn’t tell you.”

“I asked around.”

Hannah frowned. “Were you at the video store last week, asking around about me and my son?”

He shrugged. “I—I came by looking for you. I wanted to apologize—”

“And you asked about me and my little boy?” she pressed, a sharp edge in her tone. “Do you know how creepy that is? Are you following me around?”

His back against the vending machine, Ben glanced at the other students in the hallway. Hannah now noticed a few of them staring.

Ben shook his head at her. “No, I’m not following you around.”

She didn’t believe him. She stared into those cold blue eyes of his. “You’re lying,” she whispered. “I can tell. Listen, I don’t know what you want or what kind of game you’re playing. But you need to leave me alone.”

He let out a little laugh, and kept shaking his head.

“Understand?” she said loudly. “Leave me alone!”

She ran back into the classroom, and grabbed her coat.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Paul glanced up from the Film Comment magazine he was reading. “Hannah? What’s wrong?”

Ignoring him, she hurried out to the corridor, then down the stairwell. She didn’t look back at Ben Sturges—or