Room for Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “Go ahead, look around. I have a house full of expensive apologies from all over the world.”

  Even to my untrained eye, I could recognize the treasures. A Degas, a Remington bronze, and above the mantel, a painting by Peggy Hopper, a serene beach scene with a reclining native girl with lei in her hair beneath swaying palm trees.

  “That there,” she said pointing to the painting, “is one my favorites. He bought that for me along with a little island retreat I used to visit. But you’re not here to talk about my collectibles, are you? You want to know about Sally.”

  “I do.”

  “Then why don’t we start with you telling me how you knew?”

  “I didn’t. I took a chance. The night you called the station about Marcus’ death, there was another caller right after you. She had called once before, and I didn’t put a lot of stock in what she was saying. I thought she was some late-night crazy. But then she said something that really threw me.” I paused and looked directly into Andrea’s eyes, my hands gripping the sides of the wingback chair. “She said you were right about the contract killings. She said some women needed her help. And that’s why they had their own special court of appeals. I told her I didn’t understand, and she said, ‘but Ms. Reddings does.’ Those were her exact words. ‘Ms. Reddings does.’” Andrea glanced out the window, and I continued. “At first, I dismissed it. Like I said, crazy, right? But then this morning, when you were on the air again, you mentioned something about asking a woman you had gone to for counseling for help. Specifically, you said you wanted to contract with someone to kill your husband. I put two and two together and took a guess. I’m hoping I’m not wrong.”

  “I’d say it was a lucky guess, Ms. Childs.” Andrea went over to the bar, opened a crystal decanter, and poured herself a glass of scotch.

  “You want one?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Ms. Childs, before we go any further, you need to understand, this meeting between us is strictly off the record. If you report anything about what I’m about to tell you, I’ll make you look like a fool. And more importantly, you’ll never work in this town again. You understand?”

  I nodded. With Andrea’s money and power, the right word from her and my career would be dead.

  “Say it.”

  I raised my hand like I was about to take a pledge. How many times did I have to promise never to breathe a word about Sally? Since first learning about the woman, my job had been threatened twice, once by DJ and now her.

  “I promise,” I said. “This is off the record. Not a word.”

  Andrea took a sip from her glass, then put it down on the bar, her eyes never leaving mine.

  “It was several years ago. I’d had it with Marcus, his controlling nature, always telling me he was right and I was wrong, that I was too sensitive. Not to mention his philandering. I was reeling from his latest affair. Finally, I decided I needed to do something about it. I could have gone anywhere, but in the midst of my depression, I found this online self-help group. Quite frankly, I liked the anonymity of it. I’d come to think of myself as a mentally and emotionally abused wife, and I didn’t like it.” Andrea paused and took another sip of her drink.

  “Surprised?” Her eyes searched the room like she didn’t expect me to believe someone so well-heeled could possibly feel trapped in an abusive relationship. “It’s not just the poor and downtrodden, Ms. Childs. Women of all breeding and walks of life can find themselves trapped with an abusive partner.”

  I shifted in my chair and told her I’d covered enough stories to know she was right. That I’d dealt with high-profile Hollywood agents who wanted to bury stories about their client’s bad behavior, and how both the police and the media were often encouraged to lose track of reports that showed certain high-profile personalities in a bad light.

  “Then I suspect you’ll understand why I felt safe within this group. Nobody knew my name, and I never knew theirs. I would have been humiliated if they did. Eventually, I was invited to join with several of the women for an in-person, semi-private session. It was there that I met a woman who introduced herself to me as Sally. I have no idea if that’s her real name, but it’s the name she used.” Andrea took another sip of her drink and stared out the window. “She explained to me she was part of a secret panel of women. She called it a tribunal, some type of high court, whose job it was to review select cases of women in crisis and offer to help those chosen to find a better life.”

  “Did you understand what it was she was talking about? What her solution was?”

  “It didn’t take much to figure it out. Most of the women in the group were desperate to escape their situation. Some had started over so many times, they were ready to give up. In each of their cases they had been stalked, and when they were found, the abuse would begin all over again.” Andrea went back to the bar and refilled her glass.

  “These other women Sally talked about, the ones on her secret panel, did you ever meet them?”

  “No.” Andrea shook her head. “My case, as awful as it was, didn’t qualify for the type of help the group passed out.” Andrea took a sip of her drink. “I’m afraid Sally didn’t have a lot of patience for me. She said I had put myself in my own sad situation, and if I wanted out, she saw no reason I couldn’t leave. I had the money. I had the means. I’d obviously chosen to stay. And that was my problem.” Andrea twisted the glass in her hand.

  “You sound angry.”

  “Angry?” She laughed. “I was furious. I’d never been turned down for anything in my life. I remember when I left that night I swore if Mustang Sally wouldn’t kill Marcus, I would. That’s when I called your boyfriend, Chase.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend, Ms. Reddings. He’s—”

  “A friend?” She winked at me and took another sip of her drink. “With benefits, perhaps?”

  “No.” I shook my head adamantly. Not that the thoughts hadn’t crept across my mind, but I wasn’t about to admit to them. Not in the middle of a case with so much at stake. “It’s a professional relationship. Nothing more.”

  “Too bad. Chase is a good man. I don’t mind telling you if I were thirty years younger…” She raised a brow suggestively. “Well now, I suppose that doesn’t concern you. What does is that I offered him all kinds of money to take care of Marcus for me. But he refused.”

  “After that, you never saw Mustang Sally again?”

  “Technically, that would be correct. I didn’t ever see her again, but I have been in touch with her.” Andrea paused and glanced out the window, then back at me as though she were evaluating what she was about to say. “You have to understand, Ms. Childs, no one had ever talked to me like that. Most people wouldn’t dare. But I couldn’t put Sally and the stories I had heard out of my mind. After a while, I decided she was right. Horrible as things were with Marcus, I was living the life I’d chosen. Marcus didn’t deserve to die because I didn’t want to be married to him anymore. The truth is I liked being Mrs. Marcus Reddings.”

  The surprise must have registered on my face. Andrea took stock of my reaction. She walked to the chair opposite me and sat down.

  “The difference is, Ms. Childs, I had choices. Most of the other women I’d met didn’t. Finally, it seemed to me if Sally couldn’t help me, maybe I could help her.”

  “How?”

  “Money, Ms. Childs. It may be the root of all evil, but it’s the bedrock of many a charity, mine included.”

  “And Sally’s one of your charities?”

  “I didn’t think the woman had anything but an old car and the clothes on her back. For all I knew, she could’ve been living in her car when we met. I simply made sure her coffers were full when she needed them.”

  “Then you must know how to get hold of her.”

  “It’s not like I can pick up the phone and call. In fact, I haven’t spoken to Sally in years. And
I know the cell number I had for her back then wouldn’t be working. Not anymore. She used disposable phones with a different number each time. Mustang Sally was as much an abused victim as those she helped. She was afraid of being found. The woman has as many enemies as she has friends.”

  “But if she’s one of your charities, you must have a way of getting in touch with her.”

  “That doesn’t mean I know where she lives. My guess would be below the grid. What I do know is that she has—or had—a son. An adult child, if you know what I mean. He was what we used to call developmentally challenged. He was with her that day we met, went everywhere with her.”

  “But even not knowing where or how she lives, you’re still able to funnel money to her?”

  “Giving money, Ms. Childs, is never a problem. You’d be amazed at the number of ways people can launder money without anyone knowing.”

  I sat back and crossed my arms.

  “How do you do it?”

  “Every month, on the eighth, I put a bag of small bills together and leave it in a post office box that both she and I have a key to. Simple as that. I own the box. She picks up whatever is in it. Nobody questions it. People in my position seldom have their mail delivered to their homes.”

  “And you know what she uses the money for?” I said.

  “I’ve never asked. I assume she uses it to help with her day-to-day expenses.”

  “It helps finance a murder-for-hire program.”

  “A necessary evil, Ms. Childs. And from your questions, I can see you’ve already spent time investigating. So I don’t need to tell you the police can’t stop these men. As far as I’m concerned, the money goes to helping women start over. Find a new life, go back to school, pay attorney fees, buy groceries. Whatever they need.”

  “I’m not naive to what you’re saying, Ms. Reddings. I know the police can’t do much to help an abuse victim. But I am concerned about Sally. She’s called the radio station on more than one occasion, and not just my show. It’s as though she’s had some kind of mental break. She’s starting to share about who she is and what she does.”

  “That’s not good, Ms. Childs. Not at all.”

  “No. It’s not. And if she continues, someone is going to get wise to what she’s all about. Which is why I have to find her and fast. As you say, Sally’s got enemies, and I’m afraid time’s running short.”

  Andrea glanced out the window, a look of concern on her face. Then, standing up, she reached for a small butler’s bell on the table between us.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can tell you. I’ve already told you more than I should.”

  She rang the bell, and I stood up.

  “But if you know anything, anything at all that might help—”

  “Ms. Childs, I will do what I can from my end to find Sally. But you need to know, if my name is connected to this in any way, it won’t bode well for you. You understand me?”

  I stood up and nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the first person to tell me that.”

  “Good. Then I think we’re done here. The butler will show you out.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Halfway down the drive from the Reddings’ estate, with the view of the chateau still in my rearview mirror, my cell phone rang.

  Before I could even say hello, Chase asked, in a very know-it-all kind of way, how it had gone with Andrea. “She have anything to say about Sally?”

  I bit my tongue. I had told Chase I planned to talk to Andrea, but I certainly hadn’t shared with him that I’d gone to see her. “What, are you following me?” I asked.

  “Don’t have to. Tyler told me. I called to get some information about the station, and he mentioned you’d gone to visit with her.”

  I exhaled like I was breathing fire. How many times did I have to tell Tyler not to share my itinerary with anyone, particularly Chase?

  “But tell me, I can’t wait to hear how right I was about Andrea. That she doesn’t know Mustang Sally and never did.”

  I fought back the urge to tell him differently. “You’re right. She wasn’t much help.”

  I wasn’t about to share with him what Andrea had told me about Sally. I was beginning to feel what information I had concerning Mustang Sally was mine and mine alone. And whatever information Chase had, at least what I could get from him, was mine too.

  “Well, don’t feel too badly there, Blondie. I’ve got something.”

  “On Sally?” My hands clutched the steering wheel.

  “Sure do. In fact, I think I figured out where she’s hiding. Just a matter of time now.”

  “Really?” I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. It was four fifteen, and I needed to be back at the station in time for the five o’clock news. Only a miracle would allow me enough time to head Chase off if what he was telling me were true. “How much time?”

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how I did it?”

  I relaxed and eased my foot off the accelerator. If Chase wanted to impress me with his investigative techniques, I felt certain Mustang Sally wasn’t in any immediate danger of being picked up.

  “If you promise not to call me Blondie again, sure. Spill the beans. How did you find her?”

  “I’ve been listening to your station nonstop. Like you do the police scanners. I kept thinking if old Sal had called twice maybe she’d call again. And that’s when I heard her. No denying that voice. No other like it. Heard her midday during the Dr. Sam Show.” Chase paused, like I should be putting two and two together, but so far nothing was ringing any bells.

  “Go on.”

  “He was talking about the West Nile Virus outbreak and how it’s pretty much under control. Then Mustang Sally called in and said she didn’t think so. That her son was dead because of it. And you know what that means?”

  “No. I’m not sure I do.” I wasn’t getting the significance of how Sally’s call to Dr. Sam had revealed her location. But it was clear to me Chase thought he had something and was compiling information about her as fast as I was. Or maybe faster.

  “It means,” he said, “if Sally’s able to hear the station during the day and at night, she’s gotta be living within the station’s primary daytime signal area. If she weren’t, she’d never have heard Dr. Sam’s show in the afternoon and called in. The station’s daytime signal wouldn’t have reached her.” Chase paused like he expected me to start jumping up and down.

  “And?”

  “And I started thinking. If Sally’s son died of West Nile Virus, she had to be living in an area where there were a lot of mosquitos. All the cases so far have been reported in wide open spaces where there’s standing water and horses. Which means she’s living in a rural setting, somewhere within the station’s daytime signal area. That narrows the search down big time. It’s like she’s living in our own backyard.” I had to admit that was pretty good detective work. KNST’s nighttime signal was three times bigger than the daytime signal and covered most of southern California. The FCC restricted the daytime signal to a much smaller footprint.

  “All right, but the daytime signal is still huge. Better than twenty-five hundred miles. Everything from north of the valley to the Pacific Palisades. How could you possibly know exactly where she is?”

  “Because when I was talking with Tyler I asked him to email me a map of the station’s signal area, and then I did a small overlay map showing where all the West Nile victims had died. I’m figuring she’s holed up somewhere in the Antelope Valley, just north of the city. Maybe in one of those little no-tell motels or a guesthouse out behind somebody’s ranch.”

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Won’t take long now. All I’ve got to do is match up the map with my social media contacts—those I asked to call into your show the first time—and see who lives out that way. Then I can start canvassing the area. Want to join me?”

 
; CHAPTER 27

  “Absolutely. When you’ve got Mustang Sally in your crosshairs, count me in. I want to be there.”

  I couldn’t think of a better response. If Chase was right, I had to find a way to stop him or at least to slow him down. But right now I was thirty minutes away from my five o’clock newscast, and I needed to hurry back to the station. With no time to talk, I suggested we catch up later and hung up the phone.

  I was almost through KNST’s security gates when my reporter’s bag began to buzz like a rattlesnake on the seat next to me. Only this time, it wasn’t my cell phone, but Jennifer’s. I forced myself to focus. Aside from me, there were the only two people who had Jennifer’s number. Mustang Sally and Jennifer’s fiancé, Jason. If it was Mustang Sally, it could only mean one thing. Sheri had succeeded in posting Jennifer’s message in the Butterflies’ chat room, and Mustang Sally was responding.

  I pulled into the parking lot, reached into my bag and fumbled for the cell. The Caller ID was blocked. But the message was clearly from Sally. We have a meeting with the tribunal. Tomorrow Night. UCLA. The old Medical Center. West Wing, Room 518. Come alone. 9 p.m.

  I placed Jennifer’s cell back on the seat beside me, picked up my phone, and called Sheri. I still had a few minutes before I needed to be inside the station.

  “Mustang Sally just texted me. She’s set up a meeting with her tribunal.”

  “For real? I’ve been posting on the website all morning. I had no idea if Sally would see it or not.” The angst in Sheri’s voice was palpable. “Where?”

  “UCLA. The old Medical Center. Tomorrow night.”

  “Oh my God, Carol. That place is like a morgue.”

  “I can’t think about that now. But you and I need to meet. Your place, tonight. If Misty hears us talking, she may leak something to Chase. Not that she’d do it deliberately, but with the way things are with her, I never know. And I’m going to need you to help me.”

  I threw my phone in the bag and headed into the station, my mind racing. I needed to talk with DJ as soon as possible, and I also wanted to have a serious chat with Tyler about not sharing my whereabouts with Chase. But first, I had a news update to do. I went directly to the studio.