I leaned into the set, my elbows on my thighs. This was good. Of course, Soto had reason to believe Xstacy knew her killer. He had her ID. He knew her work history. Her van. If Soto was rethinking the killers’ connection to their victims, then he had to have been curious about Xstacy’s accident and Ely Wade’s death. No investigator worth his salt would have passed up on that. And with the cops’ latest discovery, there had been a second killer, it wouldn’t have been much of a stretch to think if Wade was the Model Slayer, that his partner might have been at the Sky High Club the night of the accident and had targeted Xstacy as a result. I felt myself rooting for Soto to put the facts together and crossed my fingers Scarface was on his radar as Ely’s partner. Unfortunately, Cynthia’s next question and Soto’s answer crushed my hopes.
“I have to ask, Detective, the young man our sky team filmed last week as LAPD pulled him from his home in Venice Beach, he’s a photographer. He lives just down the beach from where Stacy’s body was found, and–”
“Mr. Pompidou,” Soto added.
“Is he still a person of interest? For a brief moment, we all believed LAPD had a suspect in custody. Then Monday morning, the charges against him were dropped, and we all watched as he walked away from the courthouse with his attorney and his girlfriend.”
I stood up. “Don’t you dare use Cate’s name.” I balled my fist.
Tyler glanced over at me again and shook his head.
Soto continued. “The wheels of justice move slowly, Miss Madden, but they do move. Frustrating as it can be for officers investigating crime scenes as grisly as these, we do have to abide by the law. The District Attorney didn’t believe we had substantial evidence to try Mr. Pompidou, and as a result, we had to release him.”
“Is there anyone else you’re talking to?”
Now was the time for Soto to say, yes, of course. That the police had uncovered evidence of Ely Wade and Brian Evans or maybe even the scar-faced man at the club. But Soto remained straight-faced and said while he wasn’t at liberty to discuss the details of the investigation with the public, both Mr. Pompidou and his roommate Mr. Tyson remain persons of interest, and he hoped both men would make themselves available for questioning again soon.
“And what about the body of the young woman the firefighters found in Vasquez Canyon this weekend, Detective? People are wondering, is there a connection there as well?”
“I’m afraid, Cynthia, we just don’t know. I’d like nothing more than to tell you we’ve been able to make a positive ID, but unfortunately, we can’t. Not yet. But there were similarities.”
“Like?” Cynthia asked.
“Whoever she was, she appeared to have been tied to a tree and she may have been strangled. Although we don’t have an official cause of death. We’re still waiting for the coroner’s report.”
Misty pushed into the room and pointed at the TV screen. “They can wait all they like. Pete didn’t do it.”
I had no idea how long Misty had been there, but long enough to know she didn’t like what she heard. “That man has no evidence at all Pete killed those models. And that reporter, Carol, why weren’t you interviewing him?”
Tyler looked at me. “Good question, Misty. I take it, Carol, you haven’t told her?”
“Told me what?” Misty shuffled closer to me.
“Carol’s been subpoenaed,” Tyler said. “The detective thinks she’s withholding evidence pertinent to his investigation.”
“And unless I can find the Model Slayer by Monday morning, I’m due to appear before a judge who’s planning to send me to jail.”
Misty looked to Tyler for verification, then back to me. “So now what? You have to do something. You can’t go to jail.”
I stood up. “To start with, Tyler, I’m going to need some time off. I’ll be back Sunday for the Townhall Meeting, but until then–”
“Go.” Tyler waved a hand at me. I was free to leave, and we both knew why. Soto’s obvious snub of both the station and me rendered me useless as a news reporter until I either coughed up the information about Xstacy the cops wanted or found the killer myself.
I grabbed Misty by the hand. “And you and I, Misty, we’re going to go check out a baby.”
CHAPTER 23
Once inside my Jeep, I explained to Misty that while Detective Soto claimed the coroner didn’t know the identity of the girl whose body the firefighters had found in the desert, that I did. And so did she.
“You and I both know it’s Marilynn Brewer, Misty. You picked up on it from the rabbit’s foot, and in a way, so did I.” I took the rabbit’s foot from inside my bag and attached it to a lanyard holding my press pass that hung from my rearview mirror. “Her boyfriend confirmed it yesterday. He’s carrying one exactly like it on his keychain.”
“You believe me now?” Misty crossed her hands on her lap and leaned back into the seat as we drove out of the parking lot. She looked contented.
I turned left onto LaCienega and stopped at a light and glanced in the rearview mirror. I wanted to make sure we weren’t being followed.
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure when you first told me. But yesterday, Marilynn’s ex-boyfriend came to visit me at the station. His name’s Brian Evans. Detective Soto had been questioning him, and Brian wanted to know what I had seen in the desert that morning, and what I thought the cops knew about her murder. I told him I didn’t think I could help him, and when he started to leave, he dropped his keys. That’s when I noticed the rabbit’s foot.”
“You think the ex-boyfriend did it?”
“I’m not sure. But I got a creepy feeling about him. The guy’s odd. Something’s off about him. Maybe he’s just a square accountant-type and hard to read. I don’t know, but if he killed Marilynn, I suspect he either wanted to make it look like she was one of the model slayer’s victims, or he is the Model Slayer.”
The light turned green, and I glanced over at Misty. I could see she knew I wasn’t telling her everything.
“Carol, Detective Soto said the police were looking for two men. He believed the Model Slayer has a partner. If Brian killed his girlfriend and the other girls too, I just don’t sense a connection with Pete. But I do feel there’s another connection with Pete you’re worried about.”
I focused on the road ahead. “It’s not a connection between Pete and Brian I’m worried about, Misty. It’s between Brian and a man Xstacy knew named Ely Wade, a man she was afraid of. Soto hinted about him this morning when he was on the air. He said the police were looking into all of Xstacy’s connections and her employment at the club. If I’m right, Ely Wade’s going to pop up big time, and the cops are going to think maybe that connection wasn’t so healthy.” I couldn’t share with Misty that I knew this because Xstacy had gone into great detail about Wade and her suspicions about him. “But what worries me is that Ely and Pete share a work history, and that doesn’t look good for Pete. If I know that, I’m afraid Soto does too.”
“Which would explain why Detective Soto talked about Pete this morning, and never mentioned Brian.”
“I think Soto suspects there’s a good possibility Ely Wade is the Model Slayer. And I’m convinced based upon the fact he’s been talking to Brian that he believes Brian killed his girlfriend. But I don’t think Soto believes Brian had anything to do with the model slayings. What Soto’s waiting for is the coroner to make a positive ID on the body. When the report comes in, Soto will arrest Brian and say he killed his girlfriend because he was angry over their breakup. That Brian tried to make Marilynn’s murder look like the Model Slayer killed her so he could get away with it.”
“Which would explain Brian asking you about the murders.”
“Soto’ll call it a copycat killing. But my hunch is Brian was Ely Wade’s partner and that he killed Xstacy too.”
“But you can’t prove it?”
“No. And Soto will use Pete’s
connection to Ely to say they were partners and move on with his investigation against Pete and possibly Billy.”
Misty sighed. “This doesn’t sound good, Carol.”
“The only thing I know for certain right now is that the cops think Xstacy was killed by the Model Slayer, or his partner, anyway. And if I can prove it was Brian who killed her, then there’s a pretty good chance I can prove Brian’s the second man the cops are looking for in the model slayings as well.”
“And if you can’t?”
“I’m still holding out hope for Scarface.”
“Scarface?” Misty looked at me quizzically.
“A man at the club. A scary looking dude who used to sit at one of Xstacy’s tables.”
Misty closed her eyes and sat silently, then asked the question I knew had been brewing in the back of her mind. “If Xstacy was scared, why did she come to you? You’re a reporter, not a cop. Why didn’t she go to the police and ask for help?”
“It’s complicated. Xstacy had a troubled background. There were things she did she didn’t want the cops to know about, and she didn’t trust the police. She didn’t think they would believe her.” I paused. I had to be careful how much I told Misty. “And she made me promise not to share it with anyone. She was afraid if things came out, she and her girlfriend might get hurt.”
“You mean murdered,” Misty said.
“Yeah. And I’m afraid she was right. I’m sorry, Misty, I can’t tell you more than that. You’re going to have to trust me.”
The traffic ahead of us slowed, and we were stuck waiting at the corner of Sunset and Laurel Canyon, while a woman pushing a baby stroller with a toddler in tow trotted past us. “Oh, and the bit I told Tyler about our going to seeing a woman with a bab–”
“I was wondering about that,” Misty said.
“She’s Brian’s previous girlfriend. She’s pregnant, or was anyway. She had a baby last night, and I think the baby might be his.” I explained how I’d found Melissa Morgan’s profile online while researching Brian and learned not only was she his previous girlfriend, but that she had also filed a restraining order against him. “She’s at Valley Presbyterian.”
“Pull over.” Misty pointed in the direction of a small shopping center.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you can’t go charging into a hospital looking like you’re going to an execution. You’re going to need flowers. There’s a store on the corner.”
Misty was right. While most hospitals welcomed family and friends during the day, coming in empty handed would signal a red flag to the attendants. The flowers would provide an obvious cover and help get us past the nurse’s station. If security suspected I was a reporter, I’d be out on my Keds before I reached the elevator. I parked in front of the flower shop and went in and purchased a large bouquet of pink and blue carnations.
Valley Pres was familiar territory for me. A year ago, my ex and his wife had given birth to a baby girl at the hospital. Rob had insisted the kids come by and welcome their new sibling. The hospital had an open-door policy for friends and family during visiting hours, and I had tagged along, staying well out of sight while the kids stared through a large glass window at a pink bundle who reminded me a lot of Cate at the same age. I crossed my fingers the hospital’s policy would be the same today, and our unannounced visit wouldn’t present a problem.
The maternity ward was on the fifth floor. I stopped at the same viewing window I had stood at a year earlier and searched the names above the bassinets. If Melissa had chosen to include her last name instead of the father’s, as many single mothers were doing these days, it would be easy for me to get her room number from the card above the baby’s head. I was in luck.
Baby Morgan–no father’s name listed–seven pounds, eight ounces, a healthy-looking boy, was in the second row. He had on a blue knit cap and snoozed contentedly behind the glass. According to the card attached to his bassinet, his mother was in a private room marked E-405.
Misty took the flowers from my hand and led the way from the viewing window and past the nurse’s station. With a friendly, five-finger-wave to the nurse on duty and an air of confidence only Misty could have pulled off, she announced how glorious it was to be a grandmother again and tapped lightly on the door to Melissa’s room.
“Fresh flowers for the new mommy.” Misty entered the room and busied herself arranging the flowers on the bedside table like a hospital volunteer.
Melissa struggled to sit up. In her semi-conscious state, I could see she was confused.
“Flowers?” She asked. “From whom?”
“KTLK.” I stood at the end of the bed with my hands on the railing.
“Did I win something?”
I could understand Melissa’s confusion. Like a lot of radio stations, KTLK was always running contests and giveaways. Surprising our listeners in unsuspecting places was part of what we did.
“No, I’m sorry. My name’s Carol Childs, I’m a–”
“Reporter. Yes, I know, I’ve followed your reports about the Model Slayers.” Melissa sat up and tucked the blanket in around her legs. “You’re here about Brian, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “I’m really sorry to bother you, now of all times. But I think you may be able to help.”
“You’re a little late,” Melissa said. “The police already asked me about him.”
“Then you know homicide detectives questioned him about Marilynn Brewer’s disappearance.”
“And likely murder. They wanted to know if I thought Brian had anger management issues.”
“Did he?” I asked.
“Brian had a lot of issues. Mainly commitment. But if you’re curious about the restraining order I filed, and why...it was because we had a fight about the baby. He said it couldn’t be his and we argued. I pushed him, and he pushed back.”
“You had a witness?” To file a restraining order in California, Melissa would have had to have someone verify the abuse charges before a court would have accepted the filing.
“My sister’s an attorney, what do you think?” Melissa took a blue flower from the vase and smelled it. “And wasn’t like it was the first time. Brian and I had what you’d call a hot and cold relationship. We’d get hot. I’d want more, and he’d get cold feet and then try to come crawling back to me. Then it’d start all over again. Finally, when I was done arguing, and he’d pushed me for the last time, I filed a restraining order to keep him away from me and the baby. End of story. I don’t need Brian Evans in my life, and I don’t want him anywhere near my baby. Ever.”
“Well, you did the right thing.” Misty took the flower from Melissa’s hand and broke off the stem and placed it behind her ear. “You’re going to be just fine, Dear.”
A nurse’s sing-song voice interrupted us and announced it was time for someone’s feeding and wheeled Baby Morgan’s bassinet into the room. I stepped back from the bed, the nurse smiled and handed the bundled baby to Melissa. “Someone’s hungry.”
Melissa accepted the baby, cupped the back of his head gently with her hand and nestled him to her breast like a natural.
“I don’t know how Brian would have been with Marilynn. I know he didn’t like surprises. He thought I’d deliberately gone and gotten myself knocked up so he’d have to marry me. Can you imagine? We’d been together for four years. It’s not like I’d been with anyone else. Not like him anyway. As to whether he killed that girl, I don’t know.”
The baby started to cry. Melissa placed her hand on her breast and compressed it against the baby’s mouth.
“I’m sorry. My milk’s not coming in, and the baby’s fussing. You’re going to have to leave. I need time alone with my son.”
I apologized for the interruption. “Handsome boy,” I said. On the way out the door, I paused at the bassinet and stared down at the nameplate. “You got a name, yet?”<
br />
“Galen.” Melissa looked up at me and smiled. The baby had started to suckle. “It means peace. I could use that in my life after Brian.”
I glanced back at the name card on the bassinet. Baby Morgan. Blood Type: AB positive.
“Thanks,” I said.
On my way out, I double-checked the name card on the door to Melissa’s room. It indicated Melissa’s name, age, doctor’s name, and blood type. Melissa’s blood was type B. The baby an AB. The question was, what blood type was the father?
I put my arm through Misty’s, and we strolled past the newborns’ window. “Cute, aren’t they?”
“They are, but that’s not really what you’re thinking, is it?” Misty looked up at me out of the corner of her eye.
“You’re right. I’m thinking if the baby’s blood type is AB and Brian’s the father, there’s a good chance he might be the rare blood type the police are looking for.”
“And if he’s not?”
“There’s still one other possibility.”
“Who?” Misty asked.
“Scarface, the man at the club.”
“And you’re going to go check him out.”
“Yes, but you’re not. I need you to do me a favor, Misty. Call Cate. She’s not taking my calls, and she’s ignored my texts. But if you use the house phone, she’ll think it’s you and answer. Tell her I need to talk to her. That it’s important. I need to know something about blood types. It might help with the case against Pete.”
CHAPTER 24
Sheri called just before five o’clock full of news about Max, their couple’s massage, and catered dinner. Not nearly as good as the Coq Au Vin she planned to make for him once he returned from his trip this weekend. Then switching the subject, she asked if I had heard back from Sam and if we were still on for tonight.
“No. And yes,” I said. No. I hadn’t heard back from Sam. And yes, I still planned on going to Stilettos.
REASON TO DOUBT Page 15
