CHAPTER 29
Chase insisted on driving to Pasadena. Probably a good move on his part. If I’d been behind the wheel, I might have missed the turnoff to Ely Wade’s house and driven all the way to Palm Springs. As it was, I was having trouble clearing my mind of the argument with Cate and worried she would never forgive me.
“What if I’m wrong, Chase? What if I can’t prove Brian was Ely’s partner, and Pete goes down for it?”
Chase glanced over at me, then back to the freeway. “You’re a long way from there, Carol. You’ve no idea what you’ll find inside Ely’s house or what you’ll learn from his sister. For all you know, she’ll tell you Brian and her brother were best buds. Or maybe you’ll find a stack of nude photos of the murdered models with Brian’s fingerprints all over them.”
With his free hand, Chase opened the console between us and took out a couple of lollipops, popped one in his mouth and offered me the other.
I refused. “And if I don’t?” I looked out the window through the haze at the city’s skyline. The once familiar scene of L.A.’s skyscrapers appeared to have doubled, with new buildings reaching for the sky like wildflowers, hiding yesterday’s city in their shadow. Damnit, Sam. You’re out there somewhere. Where are you? “Maybe I should tell the cops about Sam? Let them question her about Ely’s partner.”
“Carol, don’t. You’re upset about your argument with Cate, and you’re second-guessing yourself. Your instincts are good. Everything Soto’s discovered is because you’ve been in the driver’s seat the whole way. You found the first body. You called the cops. You pointed Soto in the right direction after finding Xstacy’s van. Between you and me, I’m convinced you’re going to find something to tie Brian to the other murders, and when you do, Cate’s going to understand why you had to play this out to the end.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Chase turned onto a treelined street full of small, adobe duplex units that had been built after the Second World War. Aside from the landscaping, each of them looked identical. Spanish style with red-tiled roofs, small front patios, arched front doors, and a paned picture window. Exactly like I’d seen on Ely’s sister’s Facebook page. Halfway down the street, I spotted the For Rent sign.
Evelyn Wade was seated on the patio in a small metal rocker, eating a bag of pistachios. She stood up and dropped the shells on the patio and brushed the crumbs from her hands as Chase and I approached. “You the one who called ’bout the unit?”
“I am.” I didn’t bother to give her my name or offer to shake her hand, and she didn’t seem to care. Her eye was drawn to Chase.
“You didn’t mention you were looking for a place for the two of ya.” Evelyn gave Chase the once over, her eyes scanned him like a TSA Agent. “I’m not renting to no couples.”
“We’re not a couple,” I said.
“’Cause I don’t want no women moving in and entertaining gentlemen callers. If that’s what you’re looking for you best move on.”
“It’s not a problem. Like I told you on the phone, I’m a student at Fuller Seminary. This is–”
“A friend,” Chase said. “I’m just in town for a short time and helping her check places out. If it’s okay, we’d like to look around.”
“Long as you understand. I like to keep things quiet. This was my brother’s place, and he kept to himself mostly, so I’m not used to anyone making a lot of noise.”
Chase went in ahead of me. The house was small and stuffy. The living room was sparsely furnished with an overstuffed plaid rocker and bookshelves crammed with books and old black and white photos and memorabilia. I moved toward the shelves.
“You decide to take the place I’ll have all this stuff out of here ’fore you move in.” Evelyn came in and stood behind me.
“That’s okay. Didn’t mean to snoop. I was just curious.” I picked a photo up off the shelf. “This a picture of you and your brother?”
Evelyn looked over my shoulder. “It is. And the one next to it, that’s a picture of my brother and me with my mother back when we were kids. Don’t know why he bothered to hang on to it. She wasn’t much of a mother. More of a run-around. But back in the day, she was a real looker. Used to be a swimsuit model ’fore she up and left us to fend for ourselves.”
Chase called to me from the kitchen. “Hey, you see this?” He pointed to the stove. “Gas. And look at that.” Above the stove, in a cubby that had been fashioned in the day to hold cookbooks was a Polaroid camera. “Haven’t seen a camera like that in years. Still work?”
“I wouldn’t know. It belonged to my brother. Don’t know why he had it. He had a dark room in the garage.”
A dark room? I looked at Chase. I had to find a way to get into the garage. If there were photos of the models, maybe one with Brian or souvenirs Ely had taken from them, it might be the evidence I needed. I was about to ask if we could see the garage when there was a heavy knock on the front door.
“Your name Evelyn Wade?” I recognized the voice instantly.
“Who wants to know?” Evelyn took a step toward the door.
“LAPD. We got a search warrant.”
I glanced from the kitchen to the front door where Detective Soto stood on the other side of the screen with Eric and two plain-clothed detectives behind him. Soto opened the screen door and handed the warrant to Evelyn. Then seeing me with Chase, he smiled. “Well, well, now, just who do we have here? Doing a little house hunting, Detective?”
“Detective?” Evelyn looked at back at Chase and me. “Just who are you?”
“These two?” Soto said, “Let me introduce you. The woman, her name’s Carol Childs. Maybe you’ve heard her on the radio. She’s been investigating the Model Slayings, which by the way, is why we’re here.”
“And who’s he?” Evelyn pointed to Chase.
“Private PI. And two people I’m going to ask to wait outside on the patio while we check the place out. Sorry, ma’am, but you’re going have to let us in. Unless you’d like us to force our way inside.”
“Doesn’t look like I have a choice,” Evelyn said.
“Afraid not,” Soto said.
“Then I’ll be next door.” Evelyn stomped out of the house and went into the adjoining cottage while Chase and I waited on the patio for Soto and his team to search the place.
“Look at it this way, Carol. Soto saved us a call. If you’d found anything, we would have had to call him anyway, and I don’t need to tell you it would have looked suspicious coming from you.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel any better, Chase. What if he finds something? What if he finds something I’m not expecting? What if instead of Brian, it turns out it’s Pete? Then what do I do?”
“Then we deal with it, Carol.”
“We?”
Chase paused and reached into his jacket. “Lollipop?”
“Why not.” I took the pop from Chase’s hand and put it in my mouth. I had done as much as I could. Whatever Soto found inside Wade’s house would determine what happened from here on out. All that I had left to do was face the music with the judge Monday morning.
“You want to explain why you’re here, Ms. Childs?” Soto stood on the step to the front door and looked at me.
I stood up. “I think you know why, Detective. In fact, I think we’re both here for the same reason. To confirm Ely Wade was involved with the model slayings and to see if we can find evidence as to who he was working with.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Ms. Childs. We were both trying to confirm Wade was the Model Slayer, but with what I just found in the house and in the garage, along with the Polaroid camera in the kitchen, I doubt we’ll have to wait long to find out. And, if the prints on the camera are a match to Wade, and your daughter’s boyfriend, I think we’ll about have it wrapped up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” Soto pushed past me. In hi
s hand, he held a brown paper bag marked evidence.
My chest tightened. If Soto had found the Polaroid camera used to take pictures of the models and Pete’s prints were on it, there was nothing I could do. Without thinking, I reached for Soto’s arm to stop him.
Chase grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to him. “Don’t, Carol.”
“And what about Brian Evans? What if it’s his prints on the camera?” I asked.
Soto stopped in front of his unmarked car and stared at me. “Is that what you’re hoping for?”
I took a step closer to Soto. “The coroner IDed his girlfriend’s body last night. I’m surprised you haven’t made an arrest. I know you’ve been talking to him.”
“About Marilynn? You bet, but there wasn’t any evidence.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, you were thinking Brian Evan’s was a match for the rare blood type we’ve been looking for?” Soto took a step closer to me and shook his head. “Too bad. You must have missed the department’s press release this morning.”
“What press release?” I asked. “The one you didn’t send KTLK, maybe?”
“You think I’m playing favorites, don’t you? Come on, Carol, you were on the air this morning, and you probably missed it. Not that I tune in and follow your reports, but Kari Rhodes is my wife’s favorite Saturday morning show. She loves all that Hollywood gossip. Listens every week. You can’t imagine my surprise when she came running into the kitchen and told me to turn on the radio.” Soto opened the trunk of his car and placed the evidence bag inside. “Nice job by the way. But you should know, after the coroner IDed Marilynn’s body Friday afternoon, we had another little talk with Brian, and we concluded you were right. Marilynn was one of the Model Slayer’s victims. Thing is, Brian didn’t kill her. Not any more than he killed any of the other girls.”
“Brian wasn’t a match?”
“For the rare blood type? No. That was Wade. The DNA tests we did on the body after we exhumed it confirmed the match. That’s why we came to check out the house. As for Brian, the guy had a GPS tracking device on his car. He kept a record of exactly where he went, how many miles he drove, and when. Accountants. You gotta love ’em.” Soto shook his head. “Backed up his story entirely, he wasn’t even close to the murder sites.” Soto opened the door to his car and got in. “But I wouldn’t worry about it, Ms. Childs. I’m sure if you have anything else we should know, you can tell us on Monday. Right?”
As Soto pulled away, Chase grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back toward his car. “Come on, Carol. There’s nothing more you can do here.”
We got as far as the curb when I heard Eric’s voice. He was coming out the house. “Carol, you got a minute?”
I left Chase in front of his SUV and met Eric in front of his Town car, tanned and handsome as ever. “What?”
“I just wanted to say, I know tomorrow’s a big day for you, and nobody’s going to think less of you if you give up what you know.”
“Eric, you know me better than that.”
“Think about it, Carol. Soto’s got this. Ely Wade’s dead, and Pete’s going to go down for the Model Slayings. He’ll either be executed or go to prison for the rest of his life. Maybe you need to take a step back and do what you can right now for your daughter. You don’t want her visiting Pete in prison.”
“Stop! You don’t need to tell me what to do, Eric. I know full-well what I’m doing, and I understand the stakes. And as far as Cate’s concerned, that girl’s got her head on straight and I couldn’t be prouder of her. So thank you very much for your concern, but we’re doing just fine.”
CHAPTER 30
Sunday morning Cate didn’t come down to breakfast. Not a big surprise since she hadn’t shown for dinner the night before either. Misty said she preferred to take her meals in her room by herself. Pete had called Saturday afternoon while I was out. He had used his one call the police had given him to tell Cate he had been re-arrested for the murders and was headed to the county jail and would be arraigned Monday morning. About the same time I was expected to be called before Judge Hensley.
“And that’s not all, Carol.” Misty stood in the doorway of the French doors and stared out at the back patio. “The cops let Billy go.”
“His attorney?” I said.
“I think he cut a deal. He got Billy released, but not before Billy told the cops Pete snuck out Monday night to get a pizza. He took the bike path so nobody would notice him.”
I pinched my eyes shut and exhaled. Of course Billy would say that. After twelve hours of questioning, I wasn’t surprised. Whether any of it was true or not, it didn’t matter. Soto would use whatever Billy gave him to see Pete convicted and there was nothing I could do about it.
“There’s a story in the Times.” Misty pointed to the paper on the kitchen table. “I saved it for you to read.”
I picked up the paper. “Suspect Arrested in Model Slayings. Public Breathes Sigh of Relief.”
LAPD has re-arrested their prime suspect in the Model Slayings. Pete Pompidou, a photographer, who investigators believe had ties to the girls, was arrested late Sunday afternoon in connection with the murders of five young women whose deaths have terrorized the city for the last seven months.
Detective Soto, the lead investigator on the case, said interest in Pompidou resurfaced when the body of Stacy Minor, believed to be the Model Slayer’s fifth victim, was found on Venice Beach Tuesday morning along with her van, parked behind Pompidou’s residence.
Police believe Ms. Minor may have unwittingly become the target of the Model Slayer after she accidentally hit Ely Wade, a 49-year-old electrician and amateur photographer behind the Sky High Club where she had been working, three weeks ago.
Earlier this week, Wade’s body was exhumed for DNA testing. Tests show Wade was a match for type AB Negative blood, the rare blood type found on the bodies of each of the murdered models.
A search warrant served on Wade’s residence provided a small Polaroid camera like the one used to shoot black and white photos of the women. Detectives also found additional evidence in the home suggesting both Pompidou and Wade may have known one another.
Detective Soto said, “While Wade’s death was considered to be an accident, police now believe Minor was targeted by Pompidou for killing his friend, and that the two cases appear to be related.”
The story went on to include information about each of the models, their bios, and photos, some of which had been taken by Pete, prior to each girl’s death. Also included was a headshot of Marilynn Brewer who cops now believed to have also been one of the Model Slayers’ victims.
I folded the paper under my arm. “Has Cate seen this?”
“It was on the counter when I came into the kitchen this morning. She hasn’t been down since.”
I glanced back up at the stairs towards Cate’s room. There was nothing I could do right now. Tyler expected me at the station for the Town Hall Meeting within the hour, and I needed to get dressed and go.
“When she comes downstairs, Misty, tell her I had to go to work. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
On my way to the station, I called Sam again. I had no idea if she had listened to any of my messages before or if she would even get this one, but I had to try. When her voicemail answered, I left one more message and marked it urgent.
“Sam, it’s Carol. I need your help. The police arrested Pete this morning. I’m headed to the station, I’ve got a show at eleven. I’m free to talk after twelve. Call me.”
The thing about Town Hall meetings and talk radio is that it’s impossible to predict when a breaking news story or a rogue caller will sneak past a screener and derail a show. No matter how much prep time a reporter does, there’s always that uncontrollable wild card out there that can take a reporter’s best-laid plans and render them like a war-torn flag. That’s exactly what happ
ened Sunday afternoon. A breaking news story and a rogue caller were about to send chills down my back.
Tyler and I were seated in the studio with Papa Phil, Sergeant Lane from LAPD, and Andrew Parsons, a spokesperson from the mayor’s office. The Oh Susana Fire had diverted the mayor’s energies. As a result, the mayor was needed elsewhere and regrettably couldn’t join us. It was a weaker lineup of city powers than we had hoped for, but Tyler was committed to the idea of Town Hall meetings, and with better than a week’s worth of promo spots announcing KTLK’s big push for more civic involvement, there was no changing course.
Tyler opened with a little history. While other large cities were seeing a decrease in the number of pedestrian accidents, Los Angeles was quickly becoming the pedestrian death capital of the world. Last year, 260 people were killed on L.A.’s streets, an increase of almost 43 percent from the year before, and as of June, that rate was 22 percent higher than the same time period a year ago. Sergeant Lane added the increase of pedestrian accidents was due to vehicle speed, a lack of left turn signals, and inattentive drivers, who despite laws prohibiting the use of texting while driving, continued to do so. Papa Phil and the mayor’s spokesperson argued about the problems with crosswalks and the lack of funding for more.
After twenty minutes of talking heads, Tyler opened the phone lines to take a few calls. The first couple were nothing out of the ordinary. Listeners called in to complain about crosswalks and wanted to know what they could do to report a faulty traffic light. But the third call was the wild card.
Matt, our screener, said he had Mia on the line from West Hollywood. She was calling to report a hit and run.
My eyes click instantly to Sergeant Lane. “Mia, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I can’t believe what just happened.” Mia’s voice sounded scratchy, like an old lady. “I was listening to the station on the way home from the market when a car came speeding past me and plowed through the crosswalk. And he...and he hit someone!”
REASON TO DOUBT Page 20
