Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [76]
Becka sat there, as if she was in shock. “I don’t understand. How did you know to come back?”
“I thought I’d left my wallet here,” I confessed. “When I came back to get it, I saw someone in the bushes watching you, but he didn’t see me. I called Morton and we got him.” I was feeling a little guilty about taking all of the credit. “The guy was smooth. I was ready to believe he was just looking out for you, but the sheriff saw right through him.”
“You called Morton, though, didn’t you? Thank you, Harrison.”
She stood and kissed me solemnly. I broke it off before it could develop into anything else. I wasn’t going there again with her. “You’re most welcome. Listen, I hate to run out on you, but I’m really running late.”
“Go. I’ll be fine now.”
If I hurried, I’d just be fifteen minutes late for my appointment with Mary Fran at the television station. I couldn’t do anything about my wrinkled clothes, but I did manage to get my hair tamed before I went in. My wallet hadn’t turned up at Becka’s. I just hoped it was at Flickering Lights.
“There you are,” Mary Fran said as hurried in. “I was about to give up on you.”
“Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”
“No harm done,” she said. “I’ve got the tape set up in our editing room.”
She led me back through a hallway full of old equipment, then ducked into a room not much bigger than a telephone booth.
After explaining how to run the machinery, she said, “If you want a hard copy of something you see, just hit the print button and it comes out here. I’ve got to charge you a dollar a copy, so make sure it’s a shot you want. Good luck. Or should I say happy hunting?”
“I’ll take either one at this point,” I said.
The start of the tape showed the interview with the mayor of New Conover. I’d seen him around the fair, but he didn’t interest me a bit. I was more intent on watching what was going on behind the scenes. I fast-forwarded through the interview, caught a few candid conversations with vendors and visitors, and then I saw the camera sweep across the area just behind Gretel as the cameraman caught an image of the murder scene. Something was different about the picture, but it took me a second to realize what it was. I had something, but I wasn’t sure if it would be enough. I hit the print button so I’d have a copy to check later, then continued scanning the tape.
In another few moments, I was confronted with the static of a dead tape.
There were only nine minutes on the tape, and I hadn’t seen the hint of a clown anywhere, though I had found something worth exploring. I watched the tape twice more and was ready to give up finding the assassin on tape when something caught my eye in the background. Yes, there was no doubt about it. In one corner of the picture was the clown Evelyn had described to me, the same man I’d nearly fallen over at the fair. I hurried back to Mary Fran and said, “I think I might have something, but it’s tough to see. Is there any way to enhance this?”
She nodded, “There is, but I can’t do it. Let’s get Tom.” We found an older engineer in the backroom repairing a computer motherboard. Mary Fran said, “Tom, do you have a second?”
“I’m tied up right now. Sorry.”
I started to say something when Mary Fran shushed me. To her coworker, she said, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have bothered you.” Then she turned to me and said, “He couldn’t have enhanced it, anyway. The tape’s too grainy. Sorry, Harrison.”
Tom put his soldering iron back in its stand and said, “What are you talking about?”
She said, “You’re busy, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
Tom replied, “If there’s something on a tape you want to see, I can bring it up for you. Let’s go have a look.”
Mary Fran was smiling as Tom walked by, and I thanked her silently. There wasn’t room for all three of us in the tape editing room, so Mary Fran stood outside in the hallway. Tom cued up the tape and said, “What are you looking for?”
I pointed toward the screen and he slapped at my finger. “Don’t touch that.