“There was no doubt about it. Someone had tied a rope garrote around her neck, and she had been stabbed in the abdomen. I called the police immediately.”
“And then three months later, there was another body. And again, you were the first to report it.”
“I was on my way home, back to the valley, when Tyler called and said there was chatter on the police scanner and asked me to investigate. A commuter had been cutting through Benedict Canyon, coming up from the city towards the valley when she spotted something off Mulholland Drive and called the police.” I adjusted my headset, the vision of Kara Stieffers body still in my head. “When I saw the body, tied to a tree with a rope garrote around her neck I knew we had a serial killer on our hands. It was too similar to Shana’s murder, plus Kara had been a model.”
“I remember that day. I think everybody does. And then less than a month later we all woke up to a report that another young woman’s body had been found in the hills. By then, I think everyone knew we were dealing with a serial killer.”
“I know I did. Particularly when I saw the body. Her name was Eileen Kim, and she was a beautiful young Asian woman. Her body was found by hikers in Griffith Park, and like the other women, Ms. Kim was a model. After her murder, we in the press started calling the killer the Model Slayer.”
“Because of the photos,” Kari said. “I heard the police found small black and white photos with each body.”
“The police thought the killer had left some type of signature behind. Originally detectives asked the press not to include anything about it in their reports, but there were definitely photos. I saw them with Shana’s body, and again when the police found Kara and Eileen. They were scattered beneath their bodies. The type of instant Polaroid photos some photographers like to use to check for composition.”
“That must be why detectives think they’re looking for a photographer or maybe two photographers. I heard Detective Soto on TV the other day. He said police now think the Model Slayer had help. And that each of the girls appeared to have been posed, like centerfolds.”
“Or pole dancers,” I said.
“Pole dancers? That’s an odd term, Carol. Why would you say that?”
“Because I think that’s where Detective Soto and his team have missed the point. These girls weren’t centerfolds. They were models alright, and like you say, detectives found black and white Polaroids with each girl, but they weren’t posed as centerfolds for some erotic photo shoot.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No. I don’t. Not one of the models had a reputation for doing anything the least bit erotic. Shana Walters was a nursery school teacher. Kara Stieffers worked at her church as an administrator, and Eileen Kim was in law school. They were all hoping to make a little extra money on the side doing commercial work. Girl next door type of stuff.”
“Then why do you think they were posed like pole dancers?”
“Because the last victim, Stacy Minor, whose body the cops found on the beach–”
“Just down from where the cops arrested that young photographer.”
I let Kari’s remark slide, the more I could keep Pete’s name out of the news the better.
“She worked at the Sky High Club. That’s a gentlemen’s club, near the airport. Known for their erotic pole dancing. Stacy was a cocktail waitress, and investigators believe she may have known her attacker.”
“I’m not following, Carol. What are you saying?”
“The woman whose body the coroner IDed this morning, Ms. Brewer. She had connections to that same gentlemen’s club. And the last time Marilynn was seen in public was when she did a stand-up comedy act there.”
“You think Stacy and Marilynn knew each other.”
“I know they did.”
“And because the cops believe Stacy was killed by the Model Slayer, and Marilynn and Stacy both worked at the Sky High Club, you’re convinced there’s a connection?”
“I don’t think its coincidental Marilynn’s body was found hanging from a tree six weeks after she was last seen at the Sky High Club. And I suspect, now that the coroner’s made a positive ID, there’ll be an arrest. Initially, I believe Detective Soto thought Ms. Brewer’s murder might be a copycat. Someone close to her wanted to make it look like she had been murdered by the Model Slayer. Before I knew Stacy and Marilynn knew each other, I might have agreed with that. But now I don’t think so, and once the police learn these two women knew each other and worked together, I think they’ll see Ms. Brewer’s murder wasn’t a copycat at all. Whoever killed her is the Model Slayer and had reason to want to hush her up.”
“Are you saying you think Stacy and Marilynn may have uncovered information about the Model Slayer that got them killed?”
“I wouldn’t be at all surprised if whoever killed Stacy and Marilynn had been frequent visitors to the club. That they had a fixation on pole dancers and found models, innocent girls, who they would hire to carry out that fantasy. The murderer may have told the girls he was a photographer and lured them to a shoot. Then murdered them and took their photos for souvenirs.”
CHAPTER 28
By eleven o’clock I was home. Chase was sitting at the kitchen table with Cate next to him and Misty at the stove. Misty was sautéing a pan of yellow squash with tomatoes she had brought in from the garden. The things Misty could coax from the ground, particularly from outside my back door that until her arrival had been nothing but weeds, amazed me. This morning she had mixed her fresh sautéed special with scrambled eggs. My stomach growled as I entered.
“Hungry, are we?” Chase stood up and looked at me as though my appetite might be more a result of last night’s kiss than food.
I gritted my teeth. Both to control the buzz I had begun to feel in my chest when in his presence, and to hide the involuntary smile I feared would flood my face at finding Chase’s in my kitchen. Again.
“You’re early,” I said.
“I tried your cell. You didn’t pick up, so I called the house, and–”
“And Misty answered and asked you to breakfast.” I dropped my bag on the kitchen counter. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Guilty as charged.” Chase raised his hands in surrender.
Last night, after I explained to Chase what I knew about Ely Wade and my appointment with Ely’s sister to see her brother’s place in Pasadena, Chase invited himself to go along. After spotting Brian in the club, he thought it best if I didn’t go anywhere alone, at least until things settled down. And I agreed.
With a glass of orange juice in one hand, Chase motioned to an empty chair at the table.
I ignored the invitation and went directly to Cate and hugged her. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too, Mom. But I haven’t heard from Pete or Billy since the detectives picked them up. Chase says they’re probably still questioning them.”
“Since yesterday?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven thirty, which meant they had been in LAPD’s custody for nearly fifteen hours.
I knew the police could hold them up to twenty-four hours before LAPD had to charge them with a crime. With nine hours to go, it was going to be a long day.
Chase cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it doesn’t look good, Carol. That’s why I called. I wanted to give you a heads-up. It’s looking like the cops have something.”
I asked Cate. “What about Pete’s attorney, have you tried to call?”
“She’s not answering her phone. She’s a public defender, Mom. What do you expect? It’s not like she’s got a large staff.” Cate’s tone was sharp.
“And Tyson’s attorney?” I looked from Chase to Cate. “Didn’t Billy call him or his dad? Last time the cops picked him up, his attorney raised holy hell.”
Cate answered. “His attorney told him he’d meet him at the police station and to shut up and not sa
y anything. Mom, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think somebody’s setting Pete up.”
I took Cate by the hand and sat down at the table. “We need to talk.”
“What’s wrong?” Cate’s fingers gripped tight around my own. They felt damp.
“Does the name Ely Wade mean anything to you?”
“No.” Cate shook her head nervously. “Why? Should it?”
“How about Stacy Minor?” I asked.
“That’s the girl whose body the police found on the beach near Pete’s place.”
“She also went by the name of Xstacy. She was a cocktail waitress for the Sky High Club, a strip club near the airport.” I studied Cate’s face, waiting for any sign of recognition. Something about Xstacy’s name or the Sky High Club that might jog her memory. She stared back at me blankly.
“So?”
“Xstacy called the radio station after Pete was arrested. She wanted to talk to a reporter about the model slayings. At first, I wasn’t sure she was on the level. She claimed she knew Pete. That he had taken pictures of some of the girls at the club and–” I paused. A lot of what Xstacy had shared with me, I couldn’t tell Cate.
“And what, Mom? Stop hedging.” Cate shook her hand away from mine. “What did she say?”
“She said Pete couldn’t possibly be the Model Slayer because she knew who the Model Slayer was.”
“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” Cate asked.
Carefully as I could, I shared with Cate that some of what Xstacy had told me had been confidential and that I couldn’t divulge what she had said without violating that privilege. Instead, I repeated the facts exactly as I had reported them in the news, leaving out Xstacy’s confession to me about deliberately running Ely Wade down.
“After Xstacy was found dead, the cops found her van parked behind Pete’s place and ran her plates. That’s when they learned Xstacy had been involved in a pedestrian accident that had resulted in the death of Ely Wade, a regular at the Sky High Club. And once investigators started looking into the accident, based on the way Xstacy was murdered, they got suspicious and began to wonder if maybe Wade was the Model Slayer and that somebody–his partner maybe–had been with him the night he was hit. From everything I know, I think his partner may have been following Xstacy ever since that night, and for some reason, Xstacy either went to meet with him, or he followed her to Venice Beach.”
“Which might explain,” Chase said, “why the police found a sticky note attached to the dashboard of Stacy’s van with Pete’s address posted on it.”
I frowned at Chase. How did you know that?
Chase read my mind. “My buddies with LAPD told me.”
“Well, you know it wasn’t Pete.” Cate looked up at Chase, “The cops had been following him since he left the courthouse Monday morning. It couldn’t have been him.”
Chase cleared his throat again. “Unfortunately, Cate, we don’t know that for sure. The undercover guys watching Pete, from what I understand, didn’t see him leave the house because they were watching from the street, not from the beach. For all they know, Xstacy could have been in the house all along. Maybe waiting for Pete when he got home from the courthouse. Pete, or Billy for that matter, could have killed her inside the house, then snuck her body out the front door. Stuffed her in a shopping cart and rolled her along the bike path to the volleyball courts. Investigators found a shopping cart parked next to the Volley Ball court, and nobody remembers seeing anything unusual. Not surprising considering all the homeless around there. Anybody in a hoodie pushing a shopping cart wouldn’t attract a lot of attention no matter what time of day. Right now, all investigators know is that they didn’t see either Pete or Billy leave the house until you showed up, and then they were under orders to let you go.”
“Who then?” asked Cate. “Who killed her?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” I said.
“But you know something, Mom, I know you do. That’s why you wanted to know about blood types. You said it might have something to do with the case.”
I explained to Cate that in addition to Pete, I knew the cops had talked to Brian Evans. “His ex-girlfriend, Marilynn Brewer, was the body the firefighters found in Vasquez Canyon. After I reported it, Brian showed up at the radio station. The coroner hadn’t IDed the body yet, and Brian wanted to know if I thought it might be his ex-girlfriend.”
“How would you know?”
“I wouldn’t. But I don’t think that’s why he came by the station. I think he wanted to know what I’d seen and if I thought there were any similarities to the model slayings. And if so, what they were.”
“Ugh. That’s creepy,” Cate said. “What did you do?”
“I told him I didn’t know much. That I hadn’t seen the body, and then he got all weird. Said the cops had been talking to him about Marilynn and her disappearance and they might be thinking he was the Model Slayer.”
“Are they?” Cate’s breath caught in her throat.
“I’m not sure. After Brian left, I started to search the internet for anything I could learn about him. I found his previous girlfriend. The woman he was with seven months ago. She was pregnant and about to have a baby.”
Cate’s eyes widened. “Which is why you wanted to know what blood type a child might be if you knew the parents’ blood type.”
“It was worth a shot. Misty and I visited the hospital, and it turns out Brian’s ex is a type B, and the baby’s an AB positive.”
“And if you’re right, and Brian is the father, that would make him an A or AB, which is rare.”
“Even rarer if he’s an AB negative. Which just happens to be the blood type the coroner matched to the scene of the models’ murders.”
“Then why are the cops still talking to Pete?”
“Because I think Detective Soto’s ruled Brian out for the Model Slayings. He may believe Brian murdered Marilynn alright. That Marilynn found out about Brian’s previous girlfriend, the baby, and it caused a rift between them, and Brian killed her. Maybe even accidentally. The coroner said she had been hit on the head or maybe fell. He couldn’t be sure. But however she died, I think Soto believes Brian tried to make it look like the Model Slayer killed her, and up until the coroner made an ID on the body last night, Soto couldn’t make an arrest.”
“So that’s it then? You’re not going to do anything?”
“I’m not sure what I can do, Cate. I’m convinced Brian’s guilty, but when I was researching his background, I also did a search on Ely Wade and found he worked briefly for a big-time fashion photographer named Lenny Marx. You may remember Chase mentioned Marx’s name when the cops first arrested Pete. He said Pete had worked for him for a while.”
“So what?” Cate shrugged and shook her head. “Pete worked for a lot of photographers when he first came to L.A. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Well, that connection, in addition to everything else they have on Pete–”
“Which is all circumstantial,” Cate said. “And not enough for the DA to hold him for trial.”
“But it’s what has Soto and his team thinking Pete might be Ely’s partner.”
“It could be anybody,” Cate said.
“It could be anybody with type O blood. Ely’s body was exhumed earlier this week. If the medical examiner finds Ely was AB negative, it explains why Soto wants to talk to Pete again.”
Cate dropped her head to her chest. “Because Pete’s a type O.
I nodded. “Yeah, because Pete’s a type O, and so is their second suspect.”
“Maybe they should be talking to Lenny Marx,” Cate said. “Maybe he’s type O.”
Chase put his hand on Cate’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Cate. The police don’t like Marx for the Model Slayings. They talked to him early on when they were checking out Pete’s background. Marx is seldom in
the county. He doesn’t waste his time shooting neophyte models. His clientele are all artists, political bigwigs, and Hollywood superstars. People who want the Marx name on a life-sized black and white portrait of themselves and hope to see it hanging in a museum.”
Misty came over to the table with a large serving platter full of her sautéed scrambled eggs and placed it on the table. “I think you need to tell her what else is going on, Carol.”
“What’s happening?” Cate asked.
“I’ve been subpoenaed,” I said.
“Why? What do the police think you know that you’re not telling them?”
“Think about it, Cate. I was the one who found Shana Walters’ body. I was the first reporter on the scene when each of the other models were found. My daughter’s involved with a man detectives suspect to be their principal suspect, and the police know I had been talking to Xstacy. They want to know what she told me and why.”
“Then tell them what you know. Tell them what Xstacy told you. That she didn’t think Pete did it. Tell them that.”
I took a deep breath. “That’s just it, Cate. I can’t just tell them that. There were things Xstacy told me off the record. If I were to reveal what she shared with me in confidence not only would I be violating my promise to her, but it might expose another woman she was trying to protect. Who could well be the Model Slayer’s next victim.”
“It’s Pete or this woman, then? You’re honoring some commitment you made to a dead woman when you know something that could help Pete?” Cate stood up.
“Cate, it’s not that simple.” I reached for her hand, and she pulled away.
“What if it was me, Mom? What if it was the other way around and I was living somewhere else and got accused of something I didn’t do? What if Pete’s mother knew something that could help me and refused? Pete could be executed or go to prison for the rest of his life. The rest of his life!” Cate’s eyes met mine. “You realize what you’re doing? You’re choosing your job over the man I love.”
Cate brushed behind me and rushed up the stairs. I heard the bedroom door slam shut. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like eating.
REASON TO DOUBT Page 19
