Room for Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

Humph. I gave my robe another firm tug, walked into the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I’d be damned if I was going to join this group. All I could think of was how uncomfortable I was standing in the middle of the kitchen barefoot and in my bathrobe with nothing but my shorty pajamas on and how quickly I could get my coffee and retreat upstairs.

  But before I could escape, Chase spoke. “Carol, I realize this is awkward, and I apologize for interrupting your morning. I know this isn’t the best timing, but I need to speak with you.”

  “You could have called,” I said.

  “I did. Several times. Both the house phone and your cell. The calls went to voicemail, that’s when I decided I’d best come by.” He sat down at the table.

  Misty smiled back at me broadly, her jaws clenched, her hands in the air. Guilty as charged. No wonder I didn’t get the calls. I was fast asleep. Misty had unplugged both my alarm and the house phone. And my cell was in my bag beneath the kitchen table where I always left it. How could I have known?

  “Seems to me,” Chase said, “this Mustang Sally woman who called the station last night might just be the real thing.”

  “Oh, really?” I let the sarcasm sneak into my voice and tucked several loose hairs behind my ear. “Because when you didn’t call back last night, I figured maybe she was one of your setups, and that the two of you were out celebrating about how you’d hijacked my show.”

  “Okay, I confess. I did set up a few callers. Bruno’s mother for one, just to make certain we’d get something on the air. If I didn’t, Bruno’s murder would be over and done with exactly as the police want. Suicide. End of story.”

  “Are you trying to tell me Mustang Sally wasn’t one of your pre-arranged calls?” I decided it was best I confronted this situation now and took a seat at the table. Misty shoved a piece of cake in front of me. I pushed it away.

  “Not at all. I didn’t know anything about her. I was as surprised as you were when she called.”

  “Then how did she know about the clown’s nose? It wasn’t in the papers. Nobody knew. You had to have told her.”

  “But I didn’t.” Chase shook his head and put his tea down.

  “I don’t believe you. You told her I’d been there that morning covering the story, and then you told her about the clown’s nose. It was all a setup. Admit it. There was no other way she would have known.”

  “I swear to you, Carol. I didn’t.”

  Misty and Sheri sat silent, their eyes sliding back and forth between Chase and me like a tennis match. It was my serve.

  “Then tell me, Chase, how is it, do you suppose, Mustang Sally was listening? Happenstance maybe? I don’t think so.”

  “I may have publicized it, you know, tweeted it a bit. Put the word out I’d be on the show and to listen in. Like I told you before, I knew if I could get on the air and talk about Bruno’s murder, somebody out there was bound to hear. And, hey—it happened.”

  “So Mustang Sally is part of your social network. You do know her.”

  “No. I don’t. And it’s not that easy. Mustang Sally may have seen one of my tweets or a retweet for that matter. But she called in on her own. I promise you, I didn’t set her up to call. And I don’t know who she is.”

  I paused. My patience was wearing thin. Sheri nudged me, a slight elbow to my side. The ball was in my court.

  “Let me get this straight. Yesterday you thought Bruno’s death and the deaths of the other two men you’re investigating were the result of some gangland murder the cops are trying to cover up. Maybe some drug cartel was trying to send a message. And now, after last night, you believe it’s some revenge slaying by a group of angry women? And Mustang Sally is the matriarch of that gang?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know Sally or what she’s all about, but I think she’s involved.”

  “Okay, suppose you’re right. Why would she call in and confess to a crime like this?”

  “Strange as it may seem to you, perps have been known to shadow an investigation. I think that’s what we’ve got here. She wants to know what we know.”

  I was skeptical. I wasn’t one hundred percent certain about Chase, but a female assassin, a serial female assassin, calling in to confess was an even bigger stretch.

  “I’ll agree I’ve heard stories about such things; arsonists hanging around a fire, murderers calling an investigator with some excuse so they can learn what it is the police know. But far as I’m concerned, it’s more likely Sally’s just some crazy person. The station gets a lot of oddball calls late at night. People who can’t sleep. Drunks. Prank calls. She may very well just be one of them.”

  “I don’t think so. After you went off the air, I went back to my notes. That’s why I didn’t call you back. I wanted to go through the information I had regarding the murders of the two other men, and that’s when I found it.”

  “Found what?”

  “The other two men whose murders I’ve been investigating. They’d each been in a relationship.” He paused and waited for me to get it. Like this was a big deal and he expected my applause or something.

  “So?” I shrugged.

  “Each of them had just broken up.”

  “And your point is?” I couldn’t believe he thought that odd.

  “Maybe these breakups didn’t go down so well. Maybe the ex-girlfriends weren’t happy about the circumstances and wanted to…you know—”

  “What? Settle the score? I don’t think so. Couples break up all the time, and in my experience, most women, jilted or otherwise, don’t suddenly pick up with a pack of serial murderers.”

  “I know. Crazy, right? But then Sally—I mean, you heard her—what she said on the air. ‘Bruno Sims deserved exactly what he got. And so do a lot of other men like him.’ What type of woman wants to do that?”

  Sheri nudged my leg beneath the table. She must have been reading my thoughts. After last night, I felt like I could have killed Chase. Despite his saying differently, I still believe he had set Mustang Sally up to call, overstepped his bounds, and hijacked my first radio show. And, as far as I was concerned, he had no real proof Bruno had been murdered, much less was part of a police cover-up connected to the two other deaths he was investigating.

  “So you’re convinced, just because these men had recent breakups, that there’s a connection between them? That their exes all killed them or arranged to have them killed by this Mustang Sally and her posse. And that the cops are in cahoots, trying to cover it all up?” I shook my head and held my hands up in a surrender position. “Why?”

  “I don’t know that yet. But my gut tells me there’s something more about her claim to settling the score than we know.”

  I glanced back at Sheri and Misty, the expression on their faces mum.

  “I’d prefer to think the cops are covering up a drug deal and not just looking the other way because some woman’s been dissed by her boyfriend and knocked him off.” I stood up. I was convinced Chase was delusional.

  “I think you need to be going. I need to take a shower and—”

  “I’m not playing with you, Carol. Sally’s for real. I can’t prove it, but I can feel it, and I need you and your show to help do that.”

  “My help? Again? After last night, you expect me to let you on the show next week and do more of the same?”

  “Work with me. Go back on the air next Sunday night. Ask Sally to call back. I don’t care what you do. Tell your listeners you’re doing some heartbreak show. Ask women to call in with their worst stories about the men in their lives and what they’ve done to them.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m not about to do that, and Tyler would never agree to such a thing.”

  Chase put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands, rubbing them together. “He’s already approved it, Carol.”

  “What?”

  “I was
at the station earlier this morning. I shared with him about Sally and my theory, and he’s onboard. He checked the call logs and said as long as you’re generating listeners he doesn’t care.”

  I was furious. Chase had gone too far. I pointed to the door. “Go. And don’t call me again. Ever.”

  Chase got up from the table, thanked Misty for the tea, and grabbed another piece of cake.

  “Look, Carol, I know you’re mad, but trust me. You’re going to see I’m right. This Mustang Sally’s for real.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Chase closed the door behind him. But just to make sure, I got up from the table and gave it a strong shove. Then leaned against it and vowed silently to talk to Tyler as soon as possible. He needed to know Chase wasn’t going to dictate the content of my new show no matter how much he wanted to brag about his ability to deliver an audience. I wouldn’t have it.

  Sheri interrupted my momentary respite as I leaned against the door with a remark I hadn’t expected.

  “I like him.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.” Sheri began clearing the table and putting the dishes in the sink.

  I crossed the room and put my coffee cup on the counter. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No, not at all,” she said. “There’s something about him. Rough around edges, maybe, but kinda sexy in a rebel sort of way.” Sheri rinsed a dish under the water and handed it to me. “And he appeals to you too. I can tell.”

  “Appeals to me?” I grabbed a dish, took a dishtowel off the rack, and began drying. “You’re not serious. The guy’s got a beard like a mountain man, and he’s…well, he’s obnoxious, that’s what he is. And his theory about this murder, if you can even call it that, is beyond crazy. Plus he’s interfering with my work and my personal life, and you know how I feel about that.”

  “Maybe you don’t,” Misty said. She ambled over to the sink and placed the cake plate on the counter. “From what I could see, there’s no denying there’s chemistry between the two of you. ’Less that was some hot flash bringing color to your cheeks, I’d say the auras between the two of you were glowing like a heat wave off the Sonora Desert.”

  “I don’t believe in auras, Misty.”

  “Well you, my dear, can believe whatever you like.” Misty untied her apron strings and returned to the table, “But, for what it’s worth, I think he’s right.”

  “About Sally?” I asked.

  “All of it. Sally. The revenge slayings. I’d say he’s on to something.”

  “You’re not serious?” I pulled a chair up to the table and sat down. I could discount Chase’s suspicions. I didn’t have a lot of confidence in him. And I had my doubts about the police and the cause of Bruno’s death, but nothing even close to what Mustang Sally had hinted. “You don’t honestly believe there’s really a Sally and some team of female assassins out there, do you?”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Misty said. “I’ve seen it firsthand. In my practice, before I retired anyway, I heard from more than a few women who would have done anything to settle the score. And believe me, I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of what they wanted to do to the men who crossed them.”

  For years, Misty had worked as a Hollywood medium, a Psychic to the Stars, and her talents had been legendary. She had done a lot of late-night shows and even gone on tour, and on more than one occasion, she had been helpful to the police in locating victims and helping solve crimes. I had never much believed in psychics, but I did credit Misty with being highly intuitive.

  “Yes, but you can’t really believe she’s behind Bruno’s murder or that she has a team of female assassins out there to do her dirty work? Murderesses for hire? That’s extreme. And even if Bruno’s murder turns out to be part of a series of horrific deaths, the likelihood of a female serial killer is extremely low. Serial killers are usually men, not women.”

  Sheri joined us at the table. “Maybe, but I think Misty has a point. While most men are good guys, there are a few players out there who think of a woman as no more than a trophy, and once they’ve taken that trophy off the shelf, they want the next. Thing like that can drive a woman to do all kinds of terrible things.”

  I wondered if Sheri was talking about herself. While she had never openly admitted it, I felt certain Sheri’s ex, the father of her son, had been a first class jerk.

  Misty validated Sheri’s statement. “More than once I’ve heard from women who felt it was their right to punish their ex.”

  “Lorena Bobbit might have agreed with you,” Sheri said.

  “You mean the woman who bobbed—” I pantomimed a swift knife blade across my lower regions.

  “Her husband’s private parts,” Sheri said. “And when the news broke about what she’d done, the tabloids were full of stories about women who didn’t think she was so wrong.”

  Misty leaned forward in the chair and patted my hand. “Carol, I think Chase has a point. The idea of murder by proxy isn’t new. In fact, women are much more likely to hire someone to do their dirty work for them than do it themselves. And if you do the show as Chase suggested, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Sally called back.”

  “I don’t think Tyler would seriously go for something like that. I can’t believe Chase spoke to him. I think he was just testing the waters.”

  “I don’t know,” Sheri said, “I was listening to the show last night. The LA River Project? Not so interesting. But women complaining anonymously about bad men and bad dates…you got my interest.”

  CHAPTER 10

  My cell phone buzzed with a text as I left the house Tuesday morning. C Me. ASAP.

  The message was from Tyler. I wasn’t surprised. Tyler never sent a message that didn’t end in an acronym requesting immediate action. And, because I wanted to see him too, I did exactly as asked. I bypassed my cubicle and walked directly into the newsroom where I found Tyler in a surprisingly good mood. He was standing by the desk, his arms reached up over his head in a full-body stretch that made his slim body appear rail thin. With his red hair and a goofy smile on his face, he looked more like Alfred E. Neuman, the cartoon character from the cover of Mad Magazine, than the news and programming director for a talk radio station. I bit back my smile and walked in the office.

  “You’re in a good mood,” I said.

  “I am. Our new GM appears to be happy with the station’s format change.” Tyler finished stretching and rubbed his hands together then sat down. “However, there are a few things I need to discuss with you.”

  Tyler nodded to the hot seat in front of his desk. I took a seat.

  “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “Presley didn’t like your show Sunday night. She admitted she didn’t listen to the entire broadcast, but…she doesn’t believe you fit the format. She thinks an older, more statesman-like reporter might be better suited, and so do I.”

  I could see where this was going. Stations changed formats all the time and with it frequently swept house. I mentally crossed my fingers this wasn’t why Tyler had asked me to sit down.

  “And…” I asked.

  “And…with the station’s recent format change, we think it might be best if we fine-tuned some things and made a few changes internally.” Tyler’s eyes left his computer screen and met mine. Silence followed for what seemed like an eternity. I could hear the clock on Tyler’s desk slowly ticking. If he was going to fire me, I wondered just how long he’d give me before he let me go. Mentally I started balancing my checkbook. I had maybe two months in reserve.

  “It’s not all bad news, Carol. I managed to save your spot on Sunday nights. We’re going to have you do a late-night call-in show for women. I think you might be better suited for something with a more female angle.”

  I knew where Tyler was going with this. I could feel my throat tighten before I spoke. “Chase got to y
ou, didn’t he?”

  “And you should be glad he did. The GM doesn’t think you’re ready for a show of your own and was about to suggest you go back to doing rip-and-reads, top of the hour news reports, and your favorite—traffic updates.” Tyler paused, smiled like I should be thankful, then went on. “It was just luck Chase called right before Presley asked to see me. If I hadn’t spoken to him, I doubt I’d have come up with a better alternative for you.”

  My cell phone buzzed as I was trying to think of a response. I glanced at the caller ID. Chase. I sent the call to voicemail and turned my phone off.

  “It’s just that—”

  “Carol, stop. Before you go any further, let me say, between you and me, I don’t care if this guy Chase is on the level or not. For all I know, he’s a loose cannon with crazy conspiracy ideas. But until he called into the show last night, you had nothing. Nada. Not a single listener calling in to talk, and this morning we’ve got women emailing and calling about it. Asking when it’s going to be on again. Hey, they liked it. You were a hit. As long as you do a show that delivers an audience, I’m happy. And so is Presley. So you can take it or leave it. Your call.”

  “Yes, but Chase—”

  Before I could finish my reply, Tyler’s office phone rang. He raised his hand to silence me, picked up the receiver and smiled. “Yes, yes, she’s here right now.” Cupping the mouthpiece, he leaned across the desk. “The walls must have ears, Carol. It’s your friend Chase. Shall I tell him it’s a go?”

  I got up from the hot seat, my hands above my head. “It doesn’t appear I have much of a choice.”

  CHAPTER 11

  I wasn’t about to call Chase back, certainly not right away. If I was so valuable to him that he had already called twice, he could wait while I sorted through my thoughts about what I wanted to do. Misty may have believed Sally was real, but I was still on the fence. And Chase’s cozying up to Tyler wasn’t helping him win any points with me. Either way, I decided before I sat down and outlined exactly what this new show would be, I needed to do a little detective work. I wanted more information about Bruno’s death and a certain private investigator named Gerhardt Chasen.