Actually, as I discovered, theydid know about Jill Winslow borrowing a movie from the hotel library, but they were focused on destroying evidence that she’d been there, and it had apparently never crossed their minds that the weepy little rich girl had copied her mini-cassette tape over the borrowed videotape.
She continued, “I wasn’t ready then to show that tape.”
“I understand.”
“Poor Mark. Poor Bud.” She sipped her water and said, “They’re going to be very angry with me. For different reasons.”
I informed her, “This is not about them anymore, if it ever was. It’s about you, and about doing the right thing, and about truth, and about justice.”
“I know… but Bud is comfortable in his marriage. And Mark… well, he’s comfortable, too.” She paused, then said, “He’s going to be devastated… humiliated…”
“Maybe you can all work this out.”
She laughed. “Are you serious?”
“No.”
She took some water, then said, “And then there’s Mark Jr. and James. My children.”
“How old are they?”
“Thirteen and fifteen.” She said, “Maybe someday they’ll understand.”
“Someday they will. Maybe sooner than you think.”
She looked at me and asked, “Will I go to prison?”
“No.”
“Didn’t I withhold-?”
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll want your cooperation.”
She nodded, then asked me, “And Bud? Is he in trouble for erasing the tape?”
“Maybe. But you’ll both cut a deal.” I added, “I suspect his major problem will be with Mrs. Mitchell.”
Jill said, “Arlene will make his life hell.”
I said to her, “Stop worrying about other people.”
She didn’t reply. Jill Winslow sat up and looked at her house, then across the landscaped grounds and the pool. She said, “This was a prison with a life sentence.”
I didn’t reply. As I said, it’s hard to feel sorry for a rich girl drinking champagne on a yacht-or by a pool. But I understood bad marriages, and it didn’t matter how much money or fame you had-a bad marriage was the common leveler of all classes.
She said, more to herself than to me, “What am I going to do now?” She looked at me and asked with a smile, “Do you think I have a career in film?”
I smiled in return, but didn’t reply. I looked at my watch. I needed to get out of here before the Black Helicopter landed on the Winslow lawn, or a car pulled up with Ted Nash and friends in it. But I also needed to let Jill Winslow decompress.
She seemed to be thinking, then asked me, “Why did it take five years?”
“I just got on the case.”
She nodded and said, “When I heard the case was closed, I felt some relief… but I also felt some guilt. When was the case reopened?”
Actually, about an hour ago, but I said, “The five-year anniversary in July reawakened some interest.”
“I see.” She asked, “Would you like to go to church with me?”
“Uh… actually, I would. But I’m afraid I have to get moving.” I asked her, “Do you have any way to copy that tape now?”
She replied, “The same way I copied it the first time-but in reverse. VCR player to the video camera. Are you technologically challenged?”
“Worse than that.” I stood and said, “Let’s make a copy.”
She stood, and we went into the kitchen where I snagged the police radio, then back into the family room.
She walked into a big storage closet filled with board games and other entertainment items and returned with a video camera, which she carried to the television, where she set it on the floor.
I offered to help, but she said, “Just have a seat if you want this done right.”
I had no intention of having a seat while she messed around with the evidence of the century, so I knelt beside her in front of the TV and VCR. I watched and asked questions as she connected the VCR player to the camera with a long cable, which she explained were for audio and video. She saw that I’d rewoundA Man and a Woman, and she pushed a button on the camera, then on the VCR, and said, “The videotape in the VCR is now being recorded onto the mini-cassette in the video camera.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. Do you want me to play the mini-cassette through the TV for you?”
“No. I trust you.”
Still kneeling beside me, she said, “You should. I could have erased this five years ago. I could have told you it didn’t exist. I played it for you.” She added, “And I trust you.”
“Good.” I asked her, “How long is this going to take?”
“The same as the original tape, obviously, about forty minutes. Do you want breakfast?”
“No, thanks.” I was getting into a paranoid mode again, and I pictured Nash and friends pulling up to the house about now. Did I really need a copy of the tape? I asked her, “Can we fast-forward to the scenes on the beach where the aircraft explodes?”
“Are you in a hurry?” she asked.
“Actually, I am.”
She turned on the TV, and the tape appeared on the screen. We were up to the part where Mrs. Winslow was performing oral sex on Mr. Mitchell. Kneeling there next to the lady, I think I actually blushed. But she seemed strangely indifferent, and asked me, “Are you sure you don’t need me to copy this part?”
“I’m sure.”
She hit the Fast Forward on the VCR, and the action sped up. After the wife-tasting party, she hit Play, and the video resumed at normal speed. On the screen, Jill Winslow sat up and said, “I’m sticky. Let’s skinny-dip.”
She looked at me and asked, “From there?”
“Yes.”
She stood, and I stood also, glancing at my watch, then at the TV screen, which was still showing the tape. The copying should take about fifteen minutes from this point.
She asked me, “Why do you need two tapes?”
I replied, “I lose things.”
She glanced at me, but didn’t reply. She handed me the remote control and said, “I don’t want to watch the plane. You can sit and watch it again if you’d like, then when it’s finished-when A Man and a Woman comes on-hit this Stop button, then Eject. I’ll be on the patio. Call me if you need help getting the cassette out of the video camera.”
I replied, “I’d like you to get dressed, and come with me.”
She looked at me and asked, “Am I under arrest?”
“No.” I glanced at the TV screen and at the running clock superimposed on the videotape. There were twelve minutes left until the explosion at 8:31P.M., then more recorded images of the aftermath of the explosion, then Bud and Jill running back to the sand dune, and so forth.
I took Jill’s arm and led her into the kitchen. I said to her, “I’m going to be very honest with you. You’re in some danger, and I need to get you out of here.”
She stared at me and said, “Danger…?”
“Let me give this to you real quick. The Federal agents who came here five years ago and took your erased tape almost undoubtedly restored that tape-”
“Then why-?”
“Listen. Theyknow what was on that tape. They don’t want anyoneelse to know-”
“Why-?”
“I don’t know why. It doesn’t matterwhy. What matters is… there are two separate groups investigating this accident. The first group, Nash, Griffith, and others, are trying to suppress and destroy all evidence that points to a missile attack. The second group, me and some others, are trying to do the opposite. That’s all you need to know for now, except that the first group could be on their way here, and if they get here, they’ll destroy that tape, and… we need to get out of here, now, with those tapes. So you need to get dressed, quickly, and come with me.”
She stood staring at me, then out the bay window, as though there could be people out there. I really wanted her to move, but I let her digest. Finally, she said to me, “I’ll call the police.”
“No. These people are Federal agents, just as I am, and they are the official and authorized investigators. But they’re part of a conspiracy.” Even as I said this, I knew there was no reason for her to believe me, and in fact, she looked at me doubtfully.