by M. Z. Kelly
“She then called her aunt who, in turn, called the police,” I added.
The reporter held on my eyes. “That must have been very traumatic for her.”
I knew it was Woods’ way of trying to emotionally impact her viewers. “I’m sure it was,” I said, at the same time knowing that she was using the tragedy for her own selfish ends.
Woods took a short break and said something to her principal cameraman about getting shots of the monitors. When the cameras were rolling again, she asked us, “Was anyone looked at as a possible suspect during the original investigation?”
Leo answered. “Family, friends, and neighbors were all interviewed, but no one appeared to have a motive.”
Woods looked at Selfie. “You said that Mr. Potter owned an insurance business. What kind of insurance did he sell?”
“Your typical policies—home, life, and auto. The business appeared to have its ups and downs. He also worked part-time as a night watchman for a prep school to make ends meet.”
“I’m assuming the school was contacted?” Woods asked me.
“It was part of the routine follow-up. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.”
The reporter took a moment, turning and nodding to her cameraman. I realized it was an unspoken signal for him to get a close up shot of her. She looked at me as the camera rolled. “So what you’re telling our viewers is that somebody walked in off the street, with no apparent motive, used an unusual knot to tie up the victims in their own bed, and beat them to death for no reason. It appears to me that something was missed by the original detectives assigned to the case.”
I took a breath and tried to keep my voice even, realizing that the other camera was filming me. “The investigation was conducted in a thorough and professional manner based on the facts of this case. If there is additional evidence, we’re determined to find it. Based on the facts that we currently know, nothing was missed.”
Woods sniffed. “We’ll see about that.” Her eyes bore into me, her tone taking on an accusatory edge. “What is your solve rate?”
“I’m sorry?”
She raised her voice. “What percentage of the homicides assigned to Section One are solved with the successful prosecution of a suspect?”
I had no idea what the answer to her question was. All I did know was that I wanted to murder her and add her to the statistics.
Leo saved me. “You’ll need to check with our captain regarding specific numbers of cases, but I think you’ll find the solve rate exceeds ninety percent.”
“That means that in ten percent of your cases someone gets away with murder.”
Leo’s ever-present smile remained. “It means that ten percent of those suspects are looking over their shoulders until we come for them. I think if you’ll check the facts, you’ll find that our conviction rate is equal to, or exceeds, almost any other department in the state.”
“I intend to do just that.” Woods looked back at me. “So, where do we go from here, Detective?”
I brushed my damp, short hair off my forehead and took a breath. “We plan to go back to the Potter residence, walk through the area where the crime occurred, and canvass the neighborhood again.”
“Isn’t talking to the neighbors again a waste of time, old ground that’s already been plowed?”
Leo answered. “Sometimes if you go back and plow the ground again, it turns up new growth.”
“Humph,” Woods said, expressing her disdain. “What about the child?”
“What about her?” I said.
“I want to interview her.”
“She’s a minor. That’s not possible.”
“It is if she gives permission and her guardian…” Woods checked her notes. “I believe she’s living with her aunt. If Samantha and her aunt agree, I intend to interview her.”
I just nodded and bit my tongue. I knew in that moment Shelia Woods had no real interest in solving this case or the welfare of Samantha Potter. All she cared about was sensationalizing a murder that had left a young girl’s life shattered and without her parents.
As the camera crew was packing up after the interview ended, Woods said, “Nice work, Kate. I think we work well together.”
Leo had already left the room as I picked up my briefcase and did my best to ignore her. She came over to me, cutting me off as I was about to leave. “What can you tell me about the Maria Chavez murder?
I met her eyes. “Nothing, since I’m not authorized to discuss that case with you.”
Woods wasn’t deterred. “If this is a murder-kidnap case, how do you suppose the ransom demand will be made?”
“I have no idea, and I’m not going to speculate.”
“But surely you’ve worked other kidnapping cases. I know that TV programs often sensationalize how these things are orchestrated. Just for background information, in your experience, how is a ransom demand usually made?”
I took a breath, remembering that she did have access to the brass and I needed to cooperate. “It’s usually far less dramatic than what you see on TV.”
“You mean, there will just be a phone call?”
I shrugged. “That’s likely.”
Woods smiled, and moved the discussion in a slightly different direction. “What about Vincent Marsh?”
“What about him?”
“I’m assuming you know about him cheating on his wife with the victim. How does that fit into your investigation?”
I stood there for a long moment, wondering if what she said was true and doing my best not to visibly react. I finally said, “Maybe you should ask Chief East, since he’s your friend.”
FIFTEEN
When I got back to my workstation, I told Leo what Shelia Woods had said about Vince Marsh being involved with his maid. “I didn’t press her for details because I didn’t want her to think we had no idea about the affair, but she made it sound like it had gone on for some time. If it’s true, it means we missed something big.”
Leo sat back in his chair and cupped both hands behind his head. “Let me get this straight. Vincent Marsh is having an affair with Maria Chavez. He ends up working late one night and the maid ends up beheaded. His family then goes missing.”
“And he acts like he’s clueless about any of it.”
“Both his mother-in-law and sister-in-law said there were problems in the early years of his marriage. It sounds like those problems were continuing and the maid was part of it.”
It was just speculation, but I gave voice to something that crossed my mind. “Maybe someone else Marsh was involved with was jealous and took care of the problem.”
“Maybe. Or maybe there’s still a much bigger picture that we’re missing, as in Vince Marsh being involved in the kidnapping of his family.”
I picked up my phone. “I’m going to call Mel. I think we need to have another chat with the maid’s sister and we’ll need her to translate. Maybe Paula Ramirez knows about the affair.”
***
Leo and I had Darby and Mel meet us at Paula Ramirez’s apartment in Studio City. When we met up on the sidewalk in front of the building, I asked them how their canvass of the Marshes’ neighborhood had gone.
“We found a snoop dog up the street,” Darby Hall told us. “Shirley Greco is in her eighties. When she’s not watching Povich, Springer, and Judge Judy, she’s peeking out her front window, keeping tabs on the neighborhood. She said she saw a tall guy in a white van arrive at the residence a little before nine the night of the homicide. No real description, other than he was probably in his mid-thirties, wearing a ball cap.”
“Nothing much on the van, either,” Mel told us. “Just that it was white, an older model. Shirley’s not big on details.”
“Let’s go back to her and ask her about Marsh and the maid,” Leo suggested after I told them what we’d learned from Shelia Woods. “Maybe she saw them together.”
I glanced at the small apartment. “Let’s go see what Paula knows about her sister and Vince.”
Based on our initial interview with Paula Ramirez, we knew that she worked nights and early morning hours at a donut shop. When she answered the door, it looked like she had just gotten out of bed. She was wearing a robe and slippers.
Mel took over, explaining why we were there. Ramirez nodded and let us inside. The living room was small, so I took a seat next to Mel on the sofa across her, while Darby stood. Leo volunteered to walk Bernie while we conducted the interview.
My Spanish isn’t very good, but I was able to follow along with most of the conversation as Mel talked to Ramirez. We learned that she did know that her sister had been involved with Marsh, and that the affair had been going on for about a year. Maria had told her that Vince had made promises about leaving his wife. Ramirez had tried to convince her sister that it was just talk, but Maria had said she was in love with him. When pressed for details about their relationship, Ramirez didn’t think that Marsh had ever been violent with her sister.
Mel asked her why she hadn’t told us about the affair before. Ramirez broke down, telling us that she was frightened that whoever had murdered her sister might also harm her. She admitted telling Shelia Woods about the affair when the reporter had come by her apartment. She said Woods had made promises to her that she would keep what she told her confidential. We knew that wasn’t true, because of what the reporter had told me, and because she’d already gone live on the Internet with the information.
Mel asked Ramirez a final question about whether Allison Marsh knew her sister was having an affair with her husband. “¿Esposa de Sr. Marsh sabía sobre el asunto?
Paula Sanchez shook her head. “No. Era un secreto.”
Back on the sidewalk, we filled Leo in on what Ramirez had said. Mel gave us her opinion. “If you ask me, Vince Marsh is a player. I’ll bet there are other women he was involved with, besides Maria. I’d also bet he knows what happened to his family.”
Darby summed up what we’d already decided on. “Let’s go lean on the son of a bitch until we get some answers.”
SIXTEEN
“Mommy, are you okay?”
Bobby’s voice came out of the blackness. It tugged at Allison’s mind, pulling her slowly out of the abyss. She reached out, found her son’s tiny hand, and squeezed it.
How long had she been unconscious? She wasn’t sure, but she now remembered the woman using a stun gun on her. Her mind was still foggy, but the details of what happened slowly came into focus. A question came to her. Where was the man who called himself Frank, the one who had come to her door and taken her and the children?
Allison found the strength to lift her head and say to her son, “Wh…where’s…Jenna?”
Bobby pointed to the figure lying on the blankets in the corner. Jenna was awake and made repetitive motions with her hands, but, as always, didn’t speak.”
Allison looked back at her son, seeing that he had slumped down next to her. He had tears on his cheeks.
“I’m hungry,” Bobby said. “Can we go home?”
Allison willed herself to sit up. Every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire. She took a breath and forced a smile. She hugged him. “Soon, sweetheart. We’ll go home soon.”
“Where are we?” Bobby asked.
Allison started to respond, but stopped herself. She realized he was frightened and she had to find a way to comfort him. The pitch in her voice rose, feigning excitement. “We’re in a hideout.”
Bobby pouted and started to cry. “I don’t like it here.”
“It’s a game,” Allison told him, still trying to sound enthusiastic. “We’re playing a game.”
There were more tears. “When can we leave?”
Allison drew in another breath and managed to get to her feet. “Soon. I promise.”
She made her way over to check on Jenna. After hugging her daughter, she stumbled over to the steel door. She stopped and listened. Several minutes passed before she heard something. Footsteps. Someone was coming!
Allison found her way back to the children. She held onto them, drawing in a breath as the door rumbled open. It was Frank, the man who took them. The woman she saw before wasn’t with him.
“Eat,” Frank ordered. He tossed a bag in their direction. “There’s a bucket in the corner.”
The steel door quickly slammed shut again. Allison got to her feet, went over and pounded on the door. “Please, you’ve got to help us!”
After a couple of minutes, she stopped, and walked back over to the children. She picked up the bag. There were sandwiches and some bottles of water inside.
“Let’s eat,” she told Bobby and Jenna, doing her best to keep her voice even. “We have food.”
The children were starving and eagerly took the sandwiches. She watched as they gobbled down the offering. She walked back over to the door, listening. She couldn’t be sure, but somewhere in the distance she thought she heard the man and a woman talking.
As she strained to hear what they were saying, a conversation Allison heard as a child drifted back to her. She was probably only nine or ten at the time. Her father had taken her for a walk one day, something that he’d never done before. They’d sat on a bench in a park where he told her what was on his mind.
“I’m not like other men, Allison,” he had said. “I’m different.”
She’d waited for him to explain, unsure what he’d meant.
Her father had continued, “I’m a very wealthy man. I’m what other people call rich.”
She remembered nodding, still unsure how to respond.
“There are bad people in the world, Allison. They might try to take you so I will give them money. You have to be careful. Don’t ever let anyone take you against your will. You have to be strong.”
“I will, Daddy,” she’d said, not really understanding what he had meant. “I promise.”
Allison’s mind surfaced from that distant memory. The people her father had warned her about had now come for her. She knew that her father could pay just about any amount of money the man and woman wanted. But that still left her with one question: Would he pay the money or let her and the children die? She wasn’t sure about the answer. She was sure of only one thing. There was nothing in this world that Henry Montreal valued more than money. That included his daughter and grandchildren.
SEVENTEEN
Vince Marsh stood on the balcony of his Santa Monica hotel room. A cool breeze stirred the air and from where he stood he could see the islands. He breathed in the salty air. The beautiful weather and gorgeous surroundings all heralded a new beginning. Soon, he would be a wealthy man, free of the trappings imposed by his rotten marriage and family life.
Everything was playing out as he’d expected. Even the acting classes he took in college had paid off. The police think he’s an innocent victim; a distraught, grieving husband and father who is clueless about the murder of the maid and the disappearance of his family. He even saw a story on the news were the commentator was saying several women were making marriage proposals if his wife turned up dead. He laughed out loud at the thought of that.
Vince took a seat on the patio and sipped his coffee. His thoughts drifted to Maria. He would miss the rendezvous he had with the beautiful young woman, the times he’d made love to her when Allison was out of the house. They’d even managed to go away together for a couple of long weekends. He remembered one night they’d spent together in San Diego when Maria had expressed her love for him.
“I think you are mi alma gemela,” the young woman had said.
He’d chucked. “What are you talking about?”
“You are my soulmate. We are meant to be together.”
Vince laughed at the memory. Maria had been right. Their souls were now forever bound together. And, thanks to what he’d set in motion, Maria’s soul had been freed of any earthly bonds. As for his own soul… He smiled. That was another matter. His soul was now free to take advantage of the pleasure and wealth that he deserved. He was on the verge of living the
life he’d spent years dreaming about.
Today was the day. Frank would make the call that would set things in motion, making him a free man and also making him a multi-millionaire. While he had faith in the PI’s ability to pull things off, he also knew that his father-in-law could be intimidating and difficult. Henry Montreal wasn’t used to taking orders. He was the alpha-dog. That made him the one player in the game that Vince worried about. The more he thought about Henry, the more his doubts began to surface. He picked up his phone and in a moment had Frank Dyer on the line.
“Is everything ready to go?”
The PI’s raspy voice was angry. “Why are you calling? You know we had an agreement not to communicate until everything’s a go.”
“I was just worried…”
“Stop worrying.” There was low, derisive laughter. “Start counting your money. Soon, this will all just be a distant memory and you can begin your new life.”
“Sounds good.” Vince hesitated, before asking, “Allison and the kids, where are they?”
He heard the PI exhale. “We talked about this before. It’s better that you don’t know. All I can say is they’re in a place where no one will find them.”
“But they’re…are they okay?”
“What are you trying to say?”
Vince stood up and began pacing. “I…I’m not sure…I just…”
“Listen to me. Do not go there. This operation has been planned for months. Everything has been set in motion. Get a grip and concentrate on the future.”
He sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll call you when things are in motion.” The line went dead.
Vince went back over to the balcony’s railing and looked out at the waves breaking on the shore. What in the hell was the matter with him? Allison was about to get everything she deserved and he would be a rich man. As for the children… He sighed. While he had no use for the little monsters, he had no stomach for killing them either. He just hoped Frank would make it painless and quick.
