Without a Doubt

by Nancy Cole Silverman

Like to do? I could feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. At that moment I could think of a few things I’d like to do, including strangling her with the cord from her headset. What did she mean we weren’t doing our job covering the robberies or Carmen’s death? Considering the constraints of Bunny’s chick-lite news format, I thought we were doing the best we could.

  Kari had included both Diaz and Mimi on the air in a salute to Carmen’s life, and I’d updated what the police knew of her death in my new reports, albeit carefully, knowing Bunny would be listening.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “I thought you didn’t want—”

  “Carol.” Bunny stared at me, her eyes steely, daring me to challenge her. “You don’t really think you can possibly cover this story, do you?” She laughed dismissively. “Oh, I know you’re trying, slipping updates into your news report when you think I won’t notice. Sweetheart, you’re dating an FBI agent. Just how effective do you think you can be?”

  I felt like Bunny had just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head.

  “Tyler told you that?”

  “He didn’t have to.”

  I stared at her through the glass. Bunny Morganstern, the owner’s wife, dressed in her combat-ready attire and daring me to challenge her. It didn’t get any more imposing than that. Without a doubt, I knew she was the person who had rummaged through my desk, gone through my files, and listened to my voicemail.

  “So it’s you, you’re the one who broke into my computer—”

  “Stop right there. Why shouldn’t I? Certainly you haven’t forgotten it’s my husband who owns the station. In essence, Carol, you work for me. And you’re right. I did go through your files, and now I know exactly what you think about me and my idea for chick-lite radio.”

  I felt as though I’d just been strip-searched and busted. Of course she knew what I thought. On more than one occasion I had included a disparaging remark concerning KCHC’s news coverage in my personal emails. We sucked when it came to hard news, candy-coating anything remotely serious. I blamed Bunny, frequently ending my emails with a sour-faced icon akin to someone sticking their tongue out. I should have been more careful.

  “Don’t think I don’t see right through you, Miss Childs. Acting all sweet and helpful. What you don’t understand is that I have the advantage of age. I’ve been where you are. I know how you think. And unlike you, I know what lies ahead. I know you think I’m old and that I sold out, married the boss, that I have it all and should just sit back and be grateful. But believe me, I’m a long way from being done.”

  I felt like I’d stepped on a landmine. There was no way I could salvage this conversation. What could I say?

  “And the good news is, I’m not too old, and I still have a foot in the game. You see, Carol, I’ve been thinking—maybe you’re right. Soft news, particularly in this instance with Carmen and the robbery, doesn’t make sense. But you, my dear, you’re stuck. You’ve got this FBI boyfriend, and you’re treading lightly. Instead of pursuing leads you ought to be chasing after and nailing the FBI for what they’re not telling us, you’re playing it safe. You’re too busy trying to balance your professional life with your personal. Whereas I don’t have that problem.” Bunny started to put her headphones on and paused. “Now that I’ve said my piece, if you like, you can sit back and listen, or you can get up and leave and come back when it’s time for you to read the news. I really don’t care. I plan to cover this story myself, and you, dear Carol, can’t do anything about it.”

  I couldn’t remember when I’d ever been told off so viciously, but I wasn’t about to get up and leave. Instead, I took out my phone and sent Eric a text. “Tomi left a voicemail last night. We need to talk.”

  Eric responded almost instantly: “Annabelle’s Auction has been hit. Check your email.”

  I pulled up my email on my phone and smiled. Moments ago, the auction house had issued a brief statement, “Jewels from the Huguette Clark Estate Sale Missing.” Investigators believed jewel thieves had targeted the estate. There was a brief summary of what was believed to have been stolen, but because of the late-breaking news, there was no way Bunny knew. I sat back and listened as an ascending scale of notes with a chorus of voices singing “The Kari Rhodes Show” announced the start of the hour.

  “Good morning, this is Bunny Morganstern filling in for Kari Rhodes, and you’re listening to Hollywood news, views, and inside clues. But before we get started, I’d like to welcome back a guest who’s with us today from his ranch in Simi Valley. You know him best as that handsome polo player from Spain, Umberto Diaz de la Roca. Diaz?”

  “Thank you, Bunny, it’s an honor to be here. As you know, being a celebrity isn’t always the bright and shiny world we try to project. And I appreciate the opportunity you’re giving me to update your listeners on some of what my family and I have been going through. This has been a tough time.”

  I rested my elbows on the console in front of me and shook my head. I thought we’d heard enough of Diaz talking about Carmen the day of the memorial. Was this going to be more of same, Bunny-style? Bunny shot me a look like she’d read my mind. A thin smile crossed her face, like that of a grinning poker player with a winning hand.

  “I can only imagine,” she said.

  “And as I prepare to leave, I’m most appreciative of the opportunity to talk frankly about the events which have so marked this visit.”

  Leave? It hadn’t occurred to me that Diaz might try to leave the country. In my mind he was a probable suspect, if not for the robberies, then certainly for Carmen’s murder. The FBI had to be looking at him; the husband is always a suspect. How could they allow him to leave? Diaz may have had an alibi for the night of Carmen’s murder, but that relationship was anything but hallmark. As for the robberies, I didn’t see Diaz stealing from himself, even if there were some type of insurance policy to cover his loses. It’d be a red flag. Insurance adjusters would be all over him. Diaz was too smart for that. And now he was leaving. Eric hadn’t mentioned anything about Diaz leaving. Why?

  I tuned back into what they were saying. Bunny explained that Diaz would be returning to his home in Spain on Sunday and that she’d had the good fortune of running into him last night at Annabelle’s pre-auction display, where she’d joined him and several friends for a small intimate farewell dinner. “But let’s cut to the chase, shall we? You’re leaving and Carmen is…well…I hate to say it, but unfortunately, she’s dead. To some out there, I’m sure this looks suspicious.”

  “I know it may, and I hope people understand this isn’t easy. I don’t live here full-time. Carmen and I each maintained our own lifestyles. We were very much in love, but my schedule with the horses, charity events, and such is quite demanding. My return trip was arranged long before we arrived here.”

  “I think anyone who knows you knows your horses are your world.”

  “No, Bunny, Carmen was my world, and she always will be.”

  “Of course she was. But if I might, I’d like you to share a story with us about a previous visit to the U.S. One you told me last night, that I believe may help to explain why you feel Carmen would want you to go on.”

  There was a long uncomfortable silence. I wondered if perhaps Bunny was pushing Diaz beyond where he was prepared to go. I thought she was about to speak to fill the void when Diaz started talking.

  “You’re quite right, Bunny. It was another visit, also very sad. It happened three years ago. Carmen and I were having troubles. It’s no secret we were separated. I was spending more and more time in Europe on business and then returned to the U.S. for a competition in Florida. Carmen was here in LA when I called. There was an accident with the horses. We had flown directly from Spain. It was a long flight and the horses were fatigued. You may remember hearing about it in the news.”

  I quickly Googled “Diaz de la Roca polo accident Florida” and a page came up that caused me to cat
ch my breath. I couldn’t believe the photos. Diaz described the scene.

  “In Europe we have a supplement we give the horses to help with exhaustion, but this same drug hadn’t been approved for use in the U.S. I had a local pharmacist mix something up, and the results, I’m afraid, were devastating. Something went wrong with the preparation. I lost my entire team. All twenty-one of my horses died, right in front of me. Collapsed just before taking the field. It was, aside from Carmen’s death, the worst day of my life. I thought I’d lost everything, but Carmen came back to me and together we rebuilt the team. The team was everything to her. She’d want me to go on.”

  I stared at the pictures of horses collapsed on the field. It was unbelievable. I had never heard about the accident, but then why would I? It had happened on the east coast. I didn’t follow polo. It was a tragic accident for sure. Like so many stories, it had its fifteen minutes of fame and then, like so many other tragedies, quickly faded with yesterday’s news. But as I looked at the pictures and listened to Diaz, I knew something about this wasn’t right. I could hear it in his voice. This had to be more than an accident. I wondered if somehow Carmen’s murder, the robberies, and the death of these horses were all tied together.

  I listened even closer as Bunny continued.

  “And of course, the police have told you there’s no reason for you not to leave?”

  “None whatsoever. And I’d like to thank them. I believe they’re doing everything possible to find Carmen’s killer.”

  I listened as they chatted casually back and forth. Scribbling notes on a pad in front of me, I could think of a hundred questions I’d like to ask, but couldn’t. This was Bunny’s show, and from the giddiness in her voice—like that of flirtatious schoolgirl—I knew she was no match for this Spaniard and his smooth Castilian accent. He was as charming on the air as I knew he could be in person. And no matter what she thought, Bunny was ill-equipped to put him on the spot.

  As we approached the top of the hour, Bunny nodded to me. She wrapped the show, promising her listeners she planned to pursue the Beverly Hills robberies and Carmen’s murder. “Stay tuned for exclusive updates from KCHC. Until then, this is KCHC investigative reporter Bunny Morganstern.”

  I bristled at Bunny’s use of the term “investigative reporter” and tossed the stack of chick-lite news stories over my head. It felt exhilarating to be rid of them. I pulled up the email Eric had sent alerting me to Annabelle’s robbery. I adjusted my headset and glanced in her direction. Two could play at this game of hers.

  “This just in…a spokesperson for Annabelle’s Auction House announced early this morning they have been robbed. While preparing for the live auction this weekend of the Huguette Clark estate, auctioneers noticed several pieces appeared to have been replaced with copies of Miss Clark’s personal jewelry. Reported to be missing are a pair of diamond and emerald earrings, estimated to be worth about eighty-five thousand dollars, an art-deco diamond bracelet by Cartier, circa 1925, valued at one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, and a rectangular square-cut diamond ring estimated to be worth nearly two point five million dollars.”

  Chapter 27

  My cell phone buzzed as I was about to leave the news booth. I glanced quickly at the caller ID, noticed it was Nina, and answered immediately. From the tone of her voice, I could tell she wasn’t happy.

  “He’s lying!” she screamed.

  “Nina, slow down. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sick of this family, that’s what’s wrong.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “That radio show a few minutes ago. I was listening, and the story about Carmen and the horses? That’s not why Carmen stayed with Diaz. She didn’t come running back to him because of what happened in Florida. He makes it sound like there was some big tearful reunion. That the horses died and that’s why they didn’t get divorced.”

  This wasn’t a conversation I was prepared to have on the phone. Whatever information Nina had about Diaz and the horses and what happened in Florida had more than piqued my curiosity. And right now, Nina sounded ripe for the picking of a few family secrets she might not have been so willing to share before. That and the fact that I had just learned Diaz was preparing to leave the country made it all the more pressing I talk with her right away, in person.

  “Nina, where are you?”

  “I’m at the ranch.”

  “Does Diaz know you’re there?”

  “Like that matters,” she snapped sarcastically. “I’m at the barn. Diaz, if you want to know, is probably up at the main house.”

  I asked Nina if she could stay at the ranch. I told her I would be there within the hour, but first I needed to see Tyler. I had a few choice words I wanted to share with him about Bunny’s new commando role.

  I hurried down the hall and found Tyler seated behind his desk with his nose to the computer screen. I sat down in a huff and waited, feeling like a volcano about to explode. When he didn’t notice me, I unleashed like Mt. Vesuvius, spewing news of Bunny’s decision.

  “Were you listening to the show just now? Did you know Bunny decided to investigate Carmen’s death? And the robberies? That she suddenly thinks it’s newsworthy?”

  “I did.” Tyler’s answer was almost too quick and simple. He refused to look at me. But his hands came off his keyboard and he held them together in a fist beneath his chin. His jaw clenched.

  “You knew?”

  “I told you yesterday, Mr. Morganstern called and said he liked hearing Bunny on the air. He thought it made her happy.” Tyler looked up in my direction for the first time. “Then this morning, he called back and suggested Bunny might like to return to broadcasting. Said she wanted to use the Beverly Hills robberies and Carmen’s death as a test case for the station. Apparently, she’s rethinking the whole chick-lite news format. Good, huh?”

  “Good? Tyler, this is my story, and—”

  “And what, Carol?” Tyler put both hands on the edge of his desk and leaned back in his chair. “You planning on actually going around that FBI boyfriend of yours? And maybe uncovering something every other reporter in town doesn’t have fifteen minutes after we do?” He had me there. My privileged information was tantamount to little more than a press release with a promise of more down the road. Until then, Eric wasn’t about to compromise an open investigation, and I wasn’t about to ask him to for the sake of my reports. “You want this story, Carol, you are going to have to go get it. If you don’t, Bunny will.”

  I met Nina at the ranch. She’d left word at the front gate I’d be coming, and I was directed to the barn, where she was grooming a horse in the crossties. She held the horse’s halter in her hands and whispered in his ears, steadying him as I came closer. “Be careful where you stand. Diego’s a bit skittish. He’s been known to kick.”

  I took her at her word. The horse jerked his head in the halter, laying his ears back as I approached. I could see the white around the horse’s eyes. This was one nervous animal. Cautiously, I leaned up against one of the barn’s supportive posts, several feet from the horse’s head, and asked if we could talk.

  Nina looked around to make certain we were alone.

  “I didn’t like what Diaz was saying this morning. And the fact that he’s leaving before there’s even been an arrest for Carmen’s murder worries me.”

  “Are you having second thoughts about Diaz? Do you think maybe he had something to do with your sister’s murder?”

  “Maybe. Truthfully, I’ve gone back and forth on it, and I don’t like what I’m thinking. I mean, it’s always the spouse, right?”

  “Nina, on the phone you said Carmen didn’t come running back to Diaz because of the horses. That the accident wasn’t the reason she stayed. Why did she?”

  “Because she couldn’t leave.” Nina stopped brushing the horse and looked at me. “Carmen came to Florida to serve Diaz with divor
ce papers. The press has photos of her getting off the plane in dark glasses and meeting Diaz. Everybody thought it was because she was so upset about Diaz and his horses. Truth was, she hadn’t even heard about the accident.”

  “But if Diaz was at the airport, he had to know she was coming.”

  “Penny told him. He called and wanted to talk to Carmen, and when he couldn’t get her, he tracked down her agent. By then she was already on a plane, just not for the reason everybody suspected. When Diaz met her at the airport, he had flowers and they were swarmed by the press. His fans thought she was coming to be with him. In reality, she had the divorce papers with her.”

  “But there’s no record of them ever being divorced.”

  “Diaz’s money is in a trust. He would have signed, but if she left him, Carmen got nothing. And Carmen wasn’t about to leave empty-handed.”

  I picked up a grooming brush from the bucket in front of the crossties, pulling horse hairs from the combs as I thought about Carmen and Diaz and their relationship.

  “He had to know she was stealing from him. You knew. You told me.”

  “Yes, and the FBI found out and came and emptied out her security box. Took a bag full of things. Big as a feedbag.” Nina pointed with the horse’s brush to one of the feedbags outside one of the stalls.

  “Maybe Diaz got tired of it all. Maybe she crossed a line,” I said.

  “That’s just it.” Nina started to groom the horse again. “I don’t think for Carmen there was a line. Diaz may have known what she was doing, but I think he liked keeping Carmen right where she was. Mrs. Umberto Diaz de la Roca. It kept all his lady-friends at bay.”

  “Like Mimi and Donatella?”

  “At least.” Nina began to pick the loose hairs from the rubber brush in her hand and let them fall to the floor. “But if either of them did it—killed Carmen—and I’m not saying they did, but if they did, I’m not convinced they had anything to do with robberies. That’s what bothers me. I can see either one of them killing Carmen. They both hated her. But why steal from the man who supports them? Neither of them was hurting for money.”