Watch Them Die

“Or maybe sometimes the director is just a son of a bitch.”

Seth leaned back and grinned at her. “Still, it was a pretty good movie, wasn’t it?”

Hannah nodded. “Actually, I’m a big fan of Otto Preminger’s movies.” She pushed her food tray aside and glanced at her wristwatch. “Anyway, do you think there’s time before class to give me that address?”

“Yeah, come on,” he said, getting to his feet. He grabbed his tray. “Just don’t tell Paul that I gave you Marlboro Man’s address, or he’ll have my ass in a sling.”

Hannah bused her tray after him. “So Paul really has it out for Ben Sturges, huh?”

“Oh, he’d hate any man who got close to you. Hell, he’d put a contract out on me if he knew I was sitting with you just now. Why do you think I picked that corner table? So do me a favor and don’t let on to the Prof that we broke bread together.”

Hannah frowned at him. “Paul really isn’t that bad, is he?”

As they strolled out of the cafeteria together, Seth seemed to ponder her question. He tapped his rolled-up magazine against his leg, and smiled cryptically. “Hmmm, just don’t tell Paul about us talking together today, okay? I don’t want to get into trouble with him.” He pointed to a stairwell entrance. “Why don’t you wait for me over there? I’ll be back in a couple of shakes with that address.”

Hannah retreated toward the stairwell. She watched Seth amble down the crowded hallway, and she realized he truly didn’t want to be seen with her. He was dead serious about Paul.

The Prof has a thing for you, Seth had said. In fact, he’s really kind of obsessed.

Hannah stepped back, ducking into the stairwell. She suddenly had a feeling someone was watching.

She got off the bus on Yakima Way, then glanced again at the address Seth had scribbled down for her. He’d said it was a dicey neighborhood, and he wasn’t kidding. She’d ridden the El through worse areas of Chicago. Still, it was hardly the place to be alone on foot at nine o’clock at night.

She’d gotten Joyce to stay later with Guy, and taken the bus from work. On the bus, she’d tried to ignore the foulmouthed ranting of a crazy man in the back. She wondered if this attempt to investigate Ben Sturges wasn’t a little misguided. Paul Gulletti, with his movie knowledge and his obsession for her, seemed a far more likely suspect. Hannah had to wonder if she’d get mugged tonight, investigating the wrong man.

As the bus pulled away, she felt as if her last chance for safety had just driven off. The lone corner store at the end of the block provided no refuge. Four teenagers, who looked like gang members, loitered by the entrance of the run-down establishment. One of them was tormenting a derelict who had passed out against the side of the store. A pawnshop was located across the street from the grocery, but it looked closed.

Hannah started down the block of dilapidated houses and boarded-up buildings until she found the address for Ben Sturges. The apartment building looked like a big, neglected house and had bad aluminum siding that might have been painted yellow at one time—but now Hannah couldn’t tell. The front door had a faded, handwritten “No Trespassing” sign. On the second floor, two windows had stained sheets hanging up in lieu of curtains. Hannah checked the mailbox for Apartment 1, and saw a new label on it: B. Podowski.

Frowning, Hannah checked the address and apartment number that Seth had written down. She opened the front door and stepped inside. The dark foyer smelled of cat urine, and there was a stairway with a tattered, thin carpet. On either side of Hannah were Apartments 1 and 2.

The front door opened, and Hannah backed away. A husky young black man ambled in. He wore a sleeveless sweatshirt. He scowled at her, but said nothing. He pulled out a set of keys and started to unlock the door to Apartment 2.

“Hi, excuse me,” Hannah said.

He turned to glare at her. “Yeah?”

“Does a tall, blond-haired man live here?” she asked, nodding to Apartment 1. “He’s about thirty years old.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Moved in about month ago.” The young man started to duck into the apartment.

“Excuse me again,” Hannah said. “Is his name Ben? Ben Sturges?”

The man frowned. “No, it’s Ben Something-else. Some Polock name. I don’t remember, okay? Any other questions?”

Hannah quickly shook her head. “No. Thank you very much.”

He stepped inside his apartment and shut the door. Hannah heard two locks click.

She glanced at the door to Apartment 1. She wondered why Ben Sturges, who always came very nicely dressed to film class, was living in a tenement. And why did he live there under another name? He’d moved in a month ago, the neighbor had said.

A month ago. Give or take a few days, that was when the Goodbar video had been dropped off at the store. That was when all this began.

Hannah wandered outside again, then turned to stare at the large picture window on the first floor. It was where he lived. There were bars over the window, and within the apartment, only darkness.

“So what kind of cookies do you think Joyce would like?” Hannah asked Guy. She had him in the shopping cart seat.

“Those! Joyce likes those!” he said, pointing to the Oreos.

“What an amazing coincidence,” Hannah said, grabbing a package of the cookies. “You happen to like Oreos, too, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I sure do.” Guy nodded, very matter-of-fact.

“Well, here, guard these,” Hannah said, setting the Oreos in the cart. “And don’t touch.” She paused to glance at her shopping list.

It was Saturday, her day off. She’d spent it with Guy, buying him a haircut and new shoes, Burger King for lunch, a trip to the park, and now the supermarket.

All the while she was outside with her son, Hannah knew she was vulnerable. She didn’t let Guy out of her sight for a minute. She always felt someone watching. It was bad enough walking to and from work by herself, constantly glancing around for someone lurking in the shadows or behind every corner. But the idea that he might be studying her—with Guy—terrified her.

Even in the supermarket, Hannah didn’t feel entirely safe. Still, she tried not to think about the Goodbar and Rosemary’s Baby videos and Cindy Finkelston’s death. She tried not to think about Ben Sturges or Ben Podowski—or whatever he was calling himself. And she tried not to think about Paul Gulletti. Either one of them could have been her stalker, playing this deadly game with her. Either one—or neither—could have been the intruder who had broken into her apartment twice. Perhaps it was a customer at the store or a total stranger.

She felt so helpless and frustrated. All she could do for now was make sure Guy was safe, keep Joyce on alert, and hope whoever had been behind all this was finished with her.

She’d rented Aladdin for Guy tonight, and they were going to eat in—with the door and windows locked.

“Mom, push me again, okay?” Guy said, kicking his feet back and forth.

“All right, hold your horses, kiddo,” she replied, checking her coupons. “I’m trying to score us some bargains here.”

“Well, hello.”

Hannah looked up to see Craig Tollman, carrying a shopping basket. He wore a sweatshirt and jeans, but still managed to look like a GQ model.

Hannah smiled nervously. “Oh, hi. How are you?”

“Great.” He nodded at Guy, then smiled at her. “Looks like you picked up a hitchhiker.”

She laughed. “Guy, say hello to Craig.”

“Hello, Craig,” he said politely. “How are you?” Then he turned to look at the Oreos in the cart.

“Well, I’m fine, thanks, Guy. And what have you been up to today?”