Room for Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “I don’t know how else I’m going to pull this off. I’m going to need you both. There’re too many moving pieces for me to handle this alone, and too many lives that depend on me getting it right.”

  I explained Sally’s connection to DJ and how Sally had rescued her. Then I reminded Misty how Sheri and I had run into Jennifer at the restaurant in Santa Monica after Jason had dumped her.

  “After that, Jennifer went home and got online for some grief counseling. And guess who she runs into?”

  “Sally?” Misty continued to stare down at her tea like the answer was right in front of her.

  I glanced into her cup then back at Sheri and shrugged. If Misty was reading leaves, I sure didn’t see anything.

  “But pretty soon, Jennifer didn’t want anything to do with her. Then Sally started calling, and that’s when Jennifer gave me her cell phone. And now Sally’s called again and wants to meet.”

  “When?” Sheri asked.

  “Saturday night. Eight o’clock. I’m planning to go in Jennifer’s place like I did before. Only problem is, Sally’s also expecting to meet Jason.”

  “Where?” Sheri asked.

  “Point Fermin, in San Pedro.”

  “Why? What’s she planning to do, push him off the cliffs?” Sheri wrinkled her brow.

  “I think so,” I said.

  Misty looked up from her tea. “And you’re wondering how you’re going to get Chase to pretend he’s Jason so Sally can see the two of you together without his ever seeing Sally?”

  I grabbed a muffin and began picking at it, eating as I spoke. I was starving.

  “Yes, and once I make contact with Sally at eight o’clock, I need to get her to the other side of the lighthouse where DJ will be waiting for us at eight thirty. That gives me thirty minutes to meet with Sally, have her see me with Jason or who she thinks is Jason, and then make her disappear without Chase knowing anything about it.”

  Misty stirred her tea. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself, Carol. Before you go any further with this idea, you need to talk to Chase.”

  I knew Misty was right. I had avoided the thought of sharing with Chase anything about my meeting with Sally, but now I was stuck. I couldn’t ask anyone else to step in as Jason, and Chase, I knew, would be a willing decoy. The trick was, how was I going to tell him I’d made contact with Mustang Sally without revealing my plan?

  Misty suggested the following: I would call Chase and explain that Jennifer, a fan, had found Mustang Sally in an online chat room and later recognized her name and very distinct voice while listening to my show. She was alarmed by Sally’s suggestion—to off her fiancé—and, as a result, called me with information about a meeting she had set up.

  “Not too far off from the truth,” Sheri said, “but if we’re talking Saturday night, you need to get on it.” Sheri grabbed my bag off the floor and put it on the table. “Call him now.”

  “Fine.” I reached into my bag and fiddled for my phone inside. I would have liked more time to think about what I was I going say, but I knew Sheri was right. I couldn’t assume just because Chase wanted to find Sally as much as I did that he would be free on a Saturday night. No doubt he had other cases and interests. After all, I wasn’t responding in typical female fashion, and he had said he was an all-American male. The man was entitled to a social life. Just not mine. Finding my cell, I smiled. Chase had called three times. If nothing else, the man was persistent. I punched redial and counted five rings before he answered.

  “You sitting down?” I didn’t give him a chance to say hello.

  “Well, good morning to you too, Carol.” I could hear the sound of running water in the background. His breathing sounded irregular like he had run to catch the phone.

  “You okay?”

  “I was just getting out of the shower.”

  “At this hour?” I checked the clock. It was already past noon.

  “I went for a run.”

  I covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Misty and Sheri, he was in the shower. Then back to Chase, I said, “I can call you back if this is a bad time.”

  “What, the idea of knowing I’m standing here stark naked talking to a beautiful woman bother you?”

  I had a vision of Chase dripping wet with his dark curly hair drip-drying around his broad shoulders and felt my cheeks grow warm. Misty smiled back at me like she had the same vision. I rolled my eyes and gripped the phone tighter.

  “I found Mustang Sally.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Settle down. She’s fine, and she’s not going anywhere. I have an appointment with her Saturday night. I thought we should grab coff—”

  “Dinner,” Chase said.

  “Fine. But not tonight.” I still had things I needed to work out in my mind and wasn’t ready to have dinner with Chase. Besides, Charlie would be home tonight, and I was looking forward to a peaceful dinner with my son.

  “If you’re sure she’s not going anywhere.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Okay, tomorrow night. I hope to have news for you too. About that other matter you asked me to check into.”

  “Silva?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I’ll tell you more tomorrow night. Il Segreto. Eight p.m.”

  I agreed to dinner. I would have preferred to meet for coffee or maybe even a quick drink, but both Sheri and Misty thought it was necessary.

  “After all,” Sheri said, “you can’t lure a man to his death without offering him a last meal.”

  “Last meal?” I threw a muffin in Sheri’s direction. “Who said anything about a last meal? Chase isn’t going to die. Not really. Mustang Sally just has to see him.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” Sheri asked. “Without him seeing her?”

  Misty raised her hands and demanded silence. “Leave that to me, ladies. We’ll have a better idea how to approach the subject once Carol talks to Chase. Until then, we speak of this to no one.”

  CHAPTER 37

  Tuesday night it started to rain, and there was a chill in the air as I pulled into the parking lot at the restaurant for my meeting with Chase. Il Segreto was an elegant dining spot located at the top of Mulholland Drive and surrounded by multimillion-dollar homes. While I appreciated that Chase had chosen a restaurant less than ten minutes from my condo, it was a far more romantic spot than something I would have chosen.

  I hugged my raincoat up around my shoulders, held my purse over my head, and doing my best to dodge the rain, hurried inside. Not an easy thing to do in four-inch heels. I would have been much more comfortable in jeans and sneakers, but Il Segreto was a little black dress type of restaurant. I reminded myself my choice in clothing, a form-fitting black dress that hugged my body like I missed being hugged, was simply a matter of respecting the restaurant’s upscale dress code. No matter how intimate the atmosphere or charming Chase might be, this was simply going to be a quick business dinner, nothing more.

  A hostess greeted me by name and offered to take my coat, then returned to escort me to a table at the back of the restaurant. I finger-brushed my hair from my eyes as I followed her to a small table for two in front of a warm crackling fireplace. The lights were dim, the table lit with candlelight and dressed in a white linen tablecloth and heavy silver.

  Chase stood up as I approached. I did an immediate double-take. He was dressed in a tie, sports coat, slacks, and a blue shirt that matched his blue-gray eyes. And he had shaved. Gone was the scruffy beard I so disliked, and in its place, a strong, handsome smile. Taking my hand, he bussed my cheek politely with a welcome kiss.

  “I took the liberty of ordering you champagne.”

  “Chase, this isn’t a—”

  “Date?” Chase took my chair out from the table and waited for me to take a seat. The scent of his cologne caused my pulse to quicken. “You’re abs
olutely right. But seeing as I have good news and you’ve managed to find Mustang Sally, I thought we should celebrate. As colleagues.”

  Chase took the seat across the table from me. The waiter, as though he had been scripted to do so, arrived and poured a glass of champagne for me and sparkling water for Chase.

  “However, if you’d prefer, you can join me in a glass of something non-alcoholic. I’ve got it on good authority, this is a very good year.”

  I felt my cheeks start to tingle. Was it the candlelight or the fact Chase had shaved and was looking so handsome, sitting across the table from me in a coat and tie. Or just the fact that I hadn’t dined in such a romantic setting with a man in what seemed like forever that I felt myself growing weak? Certainly, one glass of champagne wouldn’t hurt, and it might help to steel my nerves.

  I said, “One glass is fine. Besides, it’s been a bit cold outside, and it’ll help take the chill off.”

  “I hope so.” Chase raised his glass to mine. “To our success then.”

  I followed suit, took a sip, and felt instantly guilty. If Chase had any idea I didn’t intend for him to get within ten feet of Sally, we wouldn’t be celebrating. I put my glass back down on the table and carefully navigated the conversation away from me and back to him.

  “But you first. You said you had good news. And I’m hoping it’s about the hit-and-run I asked you to investigate.”

  “It does, but you’ll find out more about that tomorrow. What I will share with you is that Tyler’s going to be busy trying to fill a void on the air this weekend.”

  “Really? You mean because Silva’s been fired?”

  “He will be. After I got the results of LAPD’s investigation, I picked up the phone and spoke to Tyler. Thought I should give him a heads up. If all goes as planned, sometime tomorrow, LAPD will have charged your station’s Saint Silva with manslaughter, along with a slew of other charges including leaving the scene of an accident and interfering with an investigation.”

  “Whoa.” I paused a moment and thought of the implications of Silva’s arrest, what it would mean to the station and to the staff.

  “You were right about Silva’s wife. She couldn’t possibly have driven his car. Not for any distance anyway. The seat was pushed too far back for a woman her size to be comfortably driving. She might have driven it a few blocks from her house and back to the scene of the accident. But there’s no way she was driving her husband to work that night.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “The police impounded the car. The evidence was right there. Enough so anyway, they knew Silva was lying.”

  “So what really happened?”

  “According to one of the investigating officers, who shared this with me in exchange for a little help with Silva’s wife, Silva may have been drinking. His screener in the studio that night says he remembers Silva opening a bottle of scotch after he came in and taking a couple of strong hits. He also said it wasn’t unusual for Silva to nurse a bottle throughout the show, but he definitely remembers thinking he was hitting it a bit hard that night.”

  “And Silva’s wife, Martha, what did she have to say?”

  “She said after dinner, her husband left for work, just like he always did. But then about ten minutes later, he returned and told his wife he thought maybe he had hit someone. More importantly, that he needed her to return to the scene and talk to the police.”

  “And she agreed?”

  “She did what she was told. Went back to where Silva said he thought he had hit someone and, sure enough, found a body in the bushes. That’s when she called the police and made up a story about driving her husband to work. Told them she thought she might have hit something or someone while driving him to work, but couldn’t see anything in the dark. It was almost eleven o’clock, and Silva was worried about being late for his show. She claims he then had her drive him back home so he could take her car into work, and she could come back.”

  “So Silva left her, drove to the station, and never said a word about the accident?”

  “Not until the police called him to report his wife had been in an accident and was at the police station.”

  “She confessed all this to the police?”

  “Not quite. That was the help LAPD wanted. Seemed Martha was afraid to talk to the cops. Thought if her husband found out he’d be angry with her. Accuse her of disrespecting his orders. I simply introduced myself as a private investigator, a friend of the station.” I rolled my eyes. “Unlike you, Carol, there are some women who do find me quite charming, and she was more than willing to talk.”

  Did he wink? I felt my cheeks flush. I was glad the room was dark, and he couldn’t see. “I’m not even going to comment on that,” I said.

  “But don’t worry. Tyler had no idea you turned me on to the investigation. Your name’s nowhere near it, so you haven’t violated any of your company’s no-tell policy.”

  “Does this mean you’re back in good with LAPD?”

  “I can tell you we’re no longer as estranged as we’ve been. The fact Riley’s dead may have something to do with it, but time will tell.” Chase took a sip of water. “So, how about you and your news? Tell me how you managed to make contact with the elusive Mustang Sally?”

  “Right.” I picked up my champagne glass, I was going to need to fortify myself for this explanation. I took a long healthy sip. “I think we need to iron out a few logistics concerning the meet. I wouldn’t want Sally to slip through our fingers. It’ll be dark, and if it rains, like tonight, it could be difficult.”

  “What are you worried about, Carol? The woman’s requested a meeting with you. She’s been calling the station. You’ve obviously hit on something with her, and she wants to talk with you in person. She’s delivering herself to you. Why are you having second thoughts?”

  “I’m not certain she’s such a bad person, Chase. The men she murdered were all physically abusive predators. The police couldn’t protect the women. Maybe what she does is necessary. I think that’s what Riley was trying to tell me before he died. That’s why he wanted me to stay out of it.”

  “That wasn’t his call, Carol.”

  “I know, but I’ve been thinking, what if we didn’t find her? What if Sally got away?”

  “She’s a vigilante, Carol. People can’t take the law into their own hands. That’s what the cops are for. Besides, the woman’s been reaching out to you. She needs help. Why else would she agreed to meet you?”

  “About that…there’s something I need to explain.”

  The waiter interrupted me before I could go any further. He placed two menus on the table and started sharing the night’s specials. I glanced at the selection. I had absolutely no interest in food, my stomach tying itself in knots. Finally, feeling I had to order something to keep Chase from suspecting something was up, I said I’d have the linguini. Chase ordered the rack of lamb and suggested we split a Cesar salad. Reluctantly, I agreed.

  “So just what is it you need to explain to me, Carol?”

  “It’s not me Sally’s expecting Saturday night, but someone else.”

  I gave him the revised version of how I had come to know Jennifer Lamb. Explaining she was a fan and after her fiancé had dumped her how she had found Mustang Sally’s online chatroom. “Which led to their meeting, or almost meeting. They’ve never really met. At least not in person.”

  “I see. So what you’re telling me is that Saturday night, Sally is expecting to meet with Jennifer for the first time.”

  “Right.”

  “And you’re going to pretend to be Jennifer.”

  “I am.”

  “And if I understand this correctly, you want me to be Jason? And once Sally’s convinced I’m him, we’ll kidnap her and turn her over to the authorities.”

  I forced a smile. “Yeah, something like that.” I felt
my stomach churn. I hated lying to Chase, but what could I do? Without his help, I had no chance of luring Sally to the cliffs. The whole point of our meeting was for her to meet Jason. I just needed to make sure she saw me with him, and that Chase didn’t see her.

  “I like it.” Chase picked up his water glass. “To Jennifer and Jason.”

  I clinked glasses with him. “To Jennifer and Jason.”

  CHAPTER 38

  I knew something was wrong the next morning when I pulled into the station’s parking lot. DJ’s green Jaguar was nowhere to be seen. Like Tyler, DJ was always at the station by the time I arrived. The two of them lived on New York time, three hours ahead of LA, making themselves slaves to corporate. I gripped the steering wheel and felt the palms of my hands start to sweat. Where was DJ? What if she had been called out of town and couldn’t make Saturday night? I hurried into the station. In the background, the morning show with Kit and Carson was being piped through the hallways, and despite the early hour, a few sales people were milling about in the sales bay like it was just another day. It wasn’t until I walked into the newsroom and saw Tyler’s door was shut that I knew something wasn’t right. Tyler’s door was never closed.

  A sleepy engineer sat at a desk outside Tyler’s office with a newspaper spread across his belly. He looked like he had been up all night. I asked if he knew who was in with Tyler.

  “No. But the boss did say when you came in to tell you he wants to talk with you. Said it was important. I was supposed to wait and make sure you got the message in person.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I glanced back at Tyler’s door. If what Chase had shared with me last night about Silva was correct, the reason for Tyler’s closed door might very well be in the office with him right now, and the fireworks—if there were any—were about to start.

  “You by any chance seen DJ this morning?”

  “Nope.” He settled back in the chair and pulled the newspaper up over his head.