REASON TO DOUBT

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “I wish to make a brief statement on behalf of my client. Last Thursday, Mr. Pompidou was arrested for the murders of three young women. His arrest was based largely upon circumstantial evidence that both the judge and the District Attorney don’t believe provides sufficient proof of a connection between my client and the deaths of those three young women. Today, I’m happy to say, Mr. Pompidou has been released and all charges against him have been dismissed. I’d like to add that Mr. Pompidou has cooperated completely with investigators and has every hope that the police will continue with their investigation until the real murderer of these young women is caught and properly charged. Until then, I hope that we can all agree that justice was done here today and that the police will not harass Mr. Pompidou with these bogus charges. Thank you.”

  Reporters began immediately shouting questions.

  “I’m sorry,” Croft said. “We’re not taking questions. My client’s spent enough time locked up and has a life to get back to. So now if you’ll excuse us.”

  Croft led Pete down the steps of the courthouse and Cate left my side. I wanted to grab her by the arm and forbid her to go, but I couldn’t. She had made up her mind.

  In my ear, I could hear Tyler. “Carol, you ready?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “We’re live with Carol Childs from the LA Courthouse. Carol–”

  “Thank you, Tyler. In an unexpected move today, Judge Petrossian dismissed without prejudice the murder charges against the suspected Model Slayer, Pete Pompidou. The judge cited lack of evidence for a trial but cautioned Mr. Pompidou that charges could be reinstated at a later date should new information come to light. Meanwhile, Juan Alvarez, head of the city’s new A-Team of prosecutors assigned to the case, issued a strong warning to Mr. Pompidou.”

  I keyed up Alvarez’ recorded statement regarding the DA’s intention to continue their investigation, then added a brief explanation concerning the meaning of the judge’s dismissal of charges without prejudice.

  “Without prejudice,” I said, “is a temporary dismissal, and will allow the DA more time to investigate further.” In an attempt to give equal time to both sides, I followed up with Croft’s statement requesting the police not harass her client, then closed. “This is Carol Childs, live from the County Courthouse.”

  As I reported all this, another more personal drama unfolded in front of me, and I was helpless to do anything about it.

  The cameras had followed Pete and his attorney away from the courthouse and caught Cate running up to them. Pete stopped and embraced her. They kissed, and the scene exploded. Cameras clicked, and reporters shouted questions.

  “Hey, who’s that girl? Is that the girlfriend?” Cate and Pete rushed off, and reporters chased after them. “Miss, what’s your name?” “How do you know Pete Pompidou?” “Miss can you give us a statement?”

  CHAPTER 16

  News that charges against the suspected Model Slayer had been dropped and that Pete had been released was the top story of the hour. Every news outlet in town was leading with it, and KTLK was no different. By the time I got back to the station, the court of public opinion was in session, and show hosts Kit and Carson were in the midst of fielding calls from listeners. Most of them not in favor of showing any mercy to a man they had already prejudged as guilty.

  As I passed the large smoked-glass studio window on my way to my office, Kit waved and gestured for me to join them. Careful not to make any sound, I entered the studio, and took the empty stool between the two of them and put on a headset.

  Carson had a spirited listener on the line.

  “Well, if you ask me, letting that butcher go was a mistake. The cops found pictures of all those models in his apartment. Who knows what else they found they’re not talking about.”

  “Pictures that a lot of other people, photographers for sure, might have had,” Carson said.

  “Maybe so, but what about that roommate of his? Billy Tyson. He has a record as a sex offender. Go online and check it out. Just type in your zip code, and there they are. Name and address. Everything you need to know. You ask me, the guy was on the run. And what about that other girl, the one they found in the desert tied up to a tree with a dog collar ’round her neck? It’s got to be related. Who knows how many more bodies are out there?”

  Kit answered. “What are cops going to do? They can’t keep a man in jail, not without proof. That’s not the way our justice system works. And the DA didn’t think there was enough evidence to proceed to trial.”

  “Well, they shouldn’t have let him go. Far as I’m concerned, they should tie him up to a tree like he did that girl and leave him in the desert to rot. Let the buzzards eat him.”

  Carson was about to reply when their screener interrupted from the control booth. “Guys, we’ve got a caller from Sherman Oaks who thinks differently. Shall I patch her through?”

  Carson nodded. “Welcome to the show. May I ask–”

  “Pete Pompidou’s not some serial killer.” I recognized the voice. Damnit, Cate, why are you doing this?

  I reached for the microphone and Kit stopped me. He wanted the next question.

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself, Miss–”

  “I am. And you should be ashamed as well as everyone listening to your show. Talking about Pete like they know he did it. It’s like he’s already been tried. They think he’s guilty just because he had photos of those girls. But that doesn’t make him some serial murderer. He’s a photographer. It’s what he does. He takes their pictures, and sometimes he doesn’t even charge. He’s a good guy, not some murderer.”

  “You sound like you know him pretty well,” Kit said.

  “He’s a friend. I was there this morning when his attorney addressed the press and asked the police to stop harassing him. And I’m asking you to do the same.”

  Kit’s eyes met Carson’s. “So, you’re the girl on the TV. The one the news caught holding hands with him as you left the courthouse.”

  “I am.” I could hear the conviction in Cate’s voice.

  I leaned forward, my fingers inches from a control board exactly like the one in the adjoining studio. One slip of the finger and I could override the board in the control booth and disconnect the call.

  “You mind telling us your name?” Kit asked.

  That was it. I hit the end call button and dumped the call. I didn’t trust Cate’s self-righteousness to identify herself, and I wasn’t about to let my daughter’s name be broadcast over the airwaves. A sudden low hollow tone droned through my headphone and into the studio. Kit and Carson stared at me. A look of why on both their faces. Inside the control booth, their screener stood up and gestured, his hands in the air. “What the–”

  I had no right to do what I did. My maternal instincts overrode my professional side, and I had nothing to say for it. Other than, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. My hand must have slipped. I didn’t mean to. I–” I took my headset off and stood up. “I think I’m going to be sick. Excuse me.”

  I ran out of the studio and into the ladies’ room. I’d never done anything so unprofessional. I felt clammy and sick to my stomach. I turned on the faucet and threw cold water onto my face, then blotted it and looked in the mirror. I didn’t recognize myself. I didn’t feel like much of a mother, and with what I’d just done, I was hardly a good reporter. And yet, I couldn’t let go of either. I had to find a way to stop Cate from exposing herself, and I had to find a way to prove Pete wasn’t the Model Slayer.

  I reached into my bag and found my phone and dialed Cate’s number. The phone went directly to voicemail. Next, I tried the lab where Cate was interning. Not that I thought I’d find her there. I had no doubt she had left the courthouse and taken Pete back to his place at the beach. But I had to try. An administrator answered and said Cate was off for the day. Frustrated my daughter was avoiding me, I called her
cell back and left a strongly worded message.

  “Cate, I’ll be home around seven. We need to talk. Be there. No excuses.”

  When I got home, Cate met me at the front door. She gave me a big hug and handed me a glass of red wine. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just can’t let Pete go through this alone.”

  From behind her, I saw Misty seated at the kitchen table with her flowering pot of tea, and two teacups that looked half-full.

  “You’ve been talking to Misty.”

  “She thought I was I being too hard on you.” Cate walked over to the table and stood behind Misty.

  “You think?” I didn’t need the wine. I followed Cate into the kitchen and put the glass on the counter.

  “It’s just, I understand reporting’s your job and all. And I get what the cops are doing. But sometimes it seems like you’re part of the problem, Mom. I guess what I’m saying is, I wish you weren’t working on this case.”

  That was the third time in as many days someone had told me they thought it would be better if I weren’t working the Model Slayer’s case. Trouble was I couldn’t just quit. If I wanted to help my daughter and clear Pete’s name, I had to keep investigating. I was the only one who knew about Ely Wade, and I’d promised Xstacy and Sam I’d help. But I couldn’t share any of this with Cate.

  “Catie, look, I know you think Pete’s innocent, but getting involved in a murder case, with a suspect the police believe to be a serial killer...it’s just not a wise move. You can’t put–”

  “What? Myself in the middle of it?” Cate sat down next to Misty. “Why not? The cops don’t have a case. Why do you think they let him go? Mom, trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  “And what is that, Cate?”

  “Standing by him. Mom, the police have nothing. The blood evidence from the crime scenes wasn’t just from the models, it was killer’s,too. And it doesn’t even match.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Pete’s attorney told me so. It’s one of the reasons the police had to drop the charges. Whoever killed those girls cut themselves too. The cops had nothing. No match. No motive. Nothing. Besides, I told the cops I was with Pete when Shana Walters was killed.”

  “When?” I asked.

  “When they questioned me at the station. So he has an alibi, and I’m not going to desert him.”

  I looked at Misty. Help me.

  “Carol, I think what Cate’s saying is, she wants you to respect her judgment.”

  I sat down at the table. “Cate, please. I know you think Pete doesn’t have anything to do with the murders, and I have trouble thinking he’s guilty too, but think about it. What do you really know about this guy? Pete Pompidou’s not even his real name. And you said yourself you don’t know anything about his roommate.”

  “I know they’re innocent. I know Pete wouldn’t do anything to hurt anybody. He’s an artist, not some crazed serial killer. And I’m not going to stand by and watch him go to prison because the cops haven’t looked at anyone else. The police have been following him since we left the courthouse this morning. They’re not letting up.”

  I grabbed Cate’s hands and held them in my own. “Cate, you’ve got to understand. You can’t get into the middle of an investigation, no matter how much you think you’re helping. When you do things like you did this morning, show up at the courthouse and then call the radio station, you’ve gone too far. People are going to talk. They’ll assume you know things. They’ll think you’re involved, and I won’t be able to protect you.”

  Cate pulled her hands away from mine. “I don’t need your protection. Misty says if I believe in what I’m doing, the truth will protect me.”

  I glanced at Misty. Much as I appreciated her help, I couldn’t have Misty filling Cate’s head with nothing more than wishful thinking. “I’m sorry, Misty, but Cate, you can’t trust your future to some tea-leaf reading.”

  “Misty doesn’t read tea leaves, Mom. You know that.”

  “What I told her, Carol, was that she’s a lot like you.” Misty picked up her tea and swirled what was left of the leafy liquid in her cup. “You work hard enough at something, and things happen. You create an energy about you. There’s nothing psychic or hocus-pocus about that. People attracted to that energy come into your life. Some of them with answers and others with questions. But each of them propels you forward. Isn’t that what you’ve found to be true?”

  I got up from the table and retrieved my glass of wine from the bar. If Misty was trying to signal me she sensed in some paranormal way that I had drawn Xstacy into my life because I had been investigating the Model Slayer, now was not the time to bring it up. I had no idea how she could possibly know how Xstacy was connected. I certainly hadn’t told her about Xstacy’s accident or her confession to me, and I wasn’t about to tell Cate. I couldn’t risk my daughter getting nervous about Pete and leaking what I was working on to the cops.

  “Misty’s right,” I said. “You work hard, and things happen. And I am proud of you, Cate. Standing up for Pete isn’t easy, but sometimes you have to realize you can’t fix everything. You need to trust the cops will find whoever did these murders and leave it alone. Promise me you won’t see Pete again until this over. For your own sake.”

  “I can’t do that, Mom, and I won’t. And you wouldn’t either.”

  “Cate, be reasonable.”

  “No!” Cate stood up and moved away from the table. “You’ve got to understand. I love Pete, and I won’t desert him.”

  Cate’s cell phone rang. She glanced down at the screen and smiled. “I need to take this.” I didn’t need to ask to know it was Pete. After he had been released, she had driven him back to the beach and came home, exactly as I had asked. She answered with a soft nervous giggle, buried her face in her hand, and turned and went upstairs to her room.

  Misty waited until Cate left the room. “You shouldn’t be too hard on her, Carol. She’s in love. You must remember what that was like?”

  “There are times I’d like to forget. Love can make a young girl do crazy things.”

  “You’ve done alright for yourself. Two nice kids. An ex who’s not altogether a bad guy.”

  “The kids are great,” I said. “The ex, I could have done without.” I took a sip of wine and winked.

  “I wouldn’t worry about Cate. She’s going to be just fine.”

  “Another psychic prediction?” I teased. “Because you must know, telling Cate everything’s going to be okay is only going to fill her with false hope. The police could re-arrest Pete tomorrow. This whole thing would start all over again, and I don’t want her anywhere near him when it does.”

  Misty reached into the pocket of her long skirt and took out the rabbit’s foot and placed it on the table in front of me.

  “We need to talk about this. It’s like I told Cate, you put energy into something, and things happen. Like Xstacy showing up at our doorstep Saturday morning. It wasn’t an accident. I don’t know how she’s connected to Pete or the Model Slayer, but I do know she wanted you to have this rabbit’s foot. And I think if you keep it with you, you’ll start to understand why.” Misty pushed the rabbit’s foot closer to me.

  “You know I don’t believe in stuff like that.”

  “Do me a favor, hold it in your hand. Close your eyes and tell me what comes to mind.”

  I picked up the rabbit’s foot. Light and soft in my hand with the feel of small twig-like bones beneath the hair.

  “What are you thinking about?” Misty asked.

  “Right now? Cate. The scene at the courthouse this morning. How upset I was with her for calling the station.”

  “No. Not that. Anger blocks your vision. Go back to the thoughts running through your mind this morning.”

  “Chase. The court case. That girl the firefighters found in the desert.” My hand closed over the rabbit’s fo
ot like a fist, and I started to massage it with my fingers.

  “That,” Misty said. “Look at your hand. You closed it around the rabbit’s foot when you mentioned the girl in the desert. Go with that.”

  “What do mean, go with that?” I shook my head and looked at Misty. I had no idea what she was talking about.

  “It’s connected, Carol. I’ve had this rabbit’s foot in my pocket ever since Xstacy gave it to me. And before, when I would hold it in my hand, I could feel her all around me. It’s was as though she was right here in the room with me. I’ve had that feeling before. Last time was when I helped the FBI find that young college girl who had gone missing. It wouldn’t leave me alone until I found her. And now when I hold the rabbit’s foot in my hand, it’s not Xstacy’s energy I feel, but that poor girl you reported on in the desert. It was the same dark energy I saw surrounding Xstacy the day she came to the door. In fact, my sense of it is so strong, I feel as though Xstacy and this girl the firefighters found knew each other. That the girl you reported on not only knew Xstacy but gave her the rabbit’s foot. It’s a definite connection, Carol, and sometime soon, you’ll see it yourself.”

  I put the rabbit’s foot back down on the table. “I would agree with you, Misty, except for the fact we didn’t have any physical proof how the girl in the desert died or even who she was.”

  “But I might.” Misty picked up the rabbit’s foot and held it next to her chest. “I’ve been thinking about her, and I may have an idea about her name.” Misty closed her eyes. “Her name begins with an M. It’s Marcy or Mary, something like that.”

  “Marilynn?” I asked.

  Misty’s eyes opened. “Yes. Marilynn. And for whatever reason, I sense Marilynn and Xstacy knew one another and Marilynn gave this lucky charm to Xstacy for a reason. And now, Xstacy’s given it to you. But I fear she shouldn’t have. I sense she’s in trouble, Carol, and you need to find her. Before it’s too late.”

  I had no idea if Xstacy and Marilynn knew each other. Xstacy had never mentioned her, and if Marilynn had worked in the Sky High Club, she would have been gone and reported missing by the time Xstacy had killed Ely. Had Xstacy heard my report about the girl in the desert, and suspected she might be Marilynn? Was that why she had stopped by my house? As for how Misty knew what she did, I hadn’t a clue. But I had to find out.