Hollywood Murder (20 page)

Since we were in downtown Los Angeles, I had Leo drop Bernie and me off at the coroner’s office, where I met Brie. We took a walk up the street to a nearby restaurant for lunch. As we walked, my friend seemed subdued. I knew that she’d recently had a post-surgical follow-up for her cancer, but decided to wait until she was ready to talk about the findings.

After ordering, we chatted about my meeting with Commander Miles. I told her about my anger and frustration, adding, “I know they’re going to say there’s no basis to further investigate what happened. It’s the wrong decision and it’s not going to stop me from looking into things on my own.”

“I think your department is taking the easy way out. An investigation into Jean Winslow’s death would be front page news everywhere, and I’m sure they want to avoid that.”

“Especially when you throw in the possibility of a secret cult being involved.” I went on for a moment, telling her about Natalie and Mo wanting to go to Winslow’s house. “If we find any bodies buried in the back yard, you’ll be the first to know.”

She chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”

We then chatted about the Marsh case for a couple of minutes. I mentioned there was nothing new since the failed ransom drop, before adding, “It’s a matter of time until the kidnappers surface again. I hope Allison’s father is willing to cooperate this time.”

“I’ve been thinking about the husband’s death. Vincent Marsh was killed by a contact wound at close range. I think his death was personal.”

I sipped my iced tea, then said, “Do you think a woman could have done it, someone he was involved with?”

“It’s possible. I understand he was a player.”

I nodded. “I think he was involved with lots of women, besides the maid.”

“Do you think his wife knew he was cheating?”

Our sandwiches arrived and I waited until the server was gone before answering. “Allison must have had suspicions he wasn’t faithful.” I picked up my sandwich, thinking about my ex. “I’m somewhat of an expert on the subject.”

Brie smiled. “Me, too.”

I remembered that Brie’s ex had cheated on her just before she’d been diagnosed. I took a breath, released it slowly, and asked the question I was dreading hearing an answer to. “So, how did the follow-up tests go?”

My friend brushed a hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. Tears trickled down her face. I reached over and touched her hand, softly saying, “Sweetheart.”

I held her hand for a couple of minutes until she was able to talk. When she finally spoke, her words hit me like I’d taken a blow to the gut. “I have something called metastatic breast cancer.”

I had no idea exactly what that meant, and waited for her to go on. The server appeared while I held Brie’s hand. She saw what was happening and scurried off without saying anything.

Brie managed to continue, “Metastatic means that the cancer has spread to other places in my body.” She found a breath, barely controlling her emotions. “It’s in my bones and spine. There’s no cure for it. Forty thousand people a year die from the disease.”

I blinked several times, as tears gushed from my own eyes. I tried to compose my thoughts, but my words came out as a sob. After several starts and stops, I finally managed to say, “Wha…what happens now?”

Brie smiled, but it wasn’t really a smile. It was a melancholy expression, one that was full of acceptance and fear, but also determination. “I will battle this disease for all the days I have left on this planet. It will be with me when I hold my beautiful daughter in my arms. It will be my companion when I accept the blessings of friendship. And, it will be with me when I draw my last breath.” She blinked back her tears. “Despite that, I won’t give up…” The stream of tears broke through. “…because of Lily.”

I sucked in a watery breath and found my voice. “What can I do to help?”

She squeezed my hand. “I’m not sure you can do anything, but be the best friend anyone could ask for, just like you’ve always been.”

We spent the next half hour as Brie continued to unburden herself, telling me about her deepest fears. She then said, “There is one thing you can do for me.”

“Just name it.”

“It’s Lily…” There were more tears, some heavy breaths. She went on, “I want you to be her godmother. If you can be there for her when…” She suppressed a sob. “…if…I’m not around, I would be eternally grateful.”

“Of course. I would be honored.”

We spent the rest of our lunch making plans for me to occasionally go with her and Lily on outings. After settling our bill and walking back to her office, Brie confided another problem. “I’m probably going to have to take another leave from work for my treatments. To tell you the truth, with my student loans and everything else, it’s going to put me in a big financial bind. I’m not sure how I’m going to make ends meet.”

I stopped and let Bernie sniff his way through a flowerbed for a moment. Brie was at my side, still teary. She leaned into me, resting her head against my shoulder. It took all of my control not to break down again. Then inspiration struck.

“Brilliant,” I said.

Brie lifted her head. “You sound like Natalie. What gives?”

I laughed. “Maybe she’s rubbing off on me. Let me talk to Oz before I tell you what I have in mind. I have an idea how maybe we can help out with your finances.”

“Sshh. It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Mommy promises.”

Allison held the sobbing child in her arms while Jenna slept soundly at their side. Even though he was a boy and full of energy, in many ways Bobby was much more delicate than his sister. When he was a baby, she remembered him waking up frightened. She would rock him to sleep in the middle of the night. Now, his fear seemed inconsolable.

“Where’s daddy? Why did he let that man take us?”

It was a question Allison had been expecting, but her answer now seemed woefully inadequate. “Daddy had to go away, baby. I’m not sure when he’ll be coming back.”

“I miss him.”

While Bobby dissolved into tears again, Allison tried to listen to the voices upstairs. Frank and Sasha had come back to the house several hours ago. She’d heard them arguing off and on since they returned. That could only mean one thing; the ransom drop hadn’t gone as they expected. Her father had probably refused to give them the money at the last minute. While she was disappointed, it didn’t surprise her. Her concern now was what that refusal meant for her and the children.

In the dim light of the basement Allison wasn’t sure if it was day or night. All she did know was that time was running out. Her hand still throbbed from what Frank had done to her. And she knew that he would eventually be coming again to take some sort of revenge for what happened. She could only pray that he wouldn’t harm her again—or the children.

It took her almost an hour, but Allison finally got Bobby to calm down. He’d just drifted off to sleep when the voices rose up again. This time they were louder and angrier than before.

“What’s happening, Mommy?” Bobby said, raising his head in the direction of the commotion. Jenna was also stirring now, making the repetitive motions with her hands that comforted her.

“I’m not sure, honey. Stay down.”

Seconds later, both children were wide awake. Bobby started screaming when he heard the door to the basement creak open. Allison then heard the footsteps coming down the stairs and she had a sudden, terrible thought. Maybe Frank was going to kill them all.

“I suppose you’re going to wimp out again and cut another one of the bitch’s fingers off,” Sasha said. “You know this is going to continue unless you get your point across.”

Frank dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled. They had been back at the cabin for several hours, arguing about how to handle things. Sasha had become increasingly unpredictable. Earlier, when he’d used his knife on Allison, she’d been upset with him. Now, she wanted him to kill one of the children to send a message to Allison’s father. He decided that maybe she had one of those mental illnesses. Bipolar. That’s what they called it.

Regardless of what Sasha wanted, the more he thought about it, he decided that killing one of the kids would be a mistake. Henry Montreal didn’t care about the kids, anyway. All he cared about was his money.

“I’m not going to do something stupid,” Frank said. “I need more time to figure things out.” He sat on the sofa across from Sasha, holding his head in his hands.

“The only thing you need is to grow a pair; show them you mean business.”

He scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”

Sasha picked up the knife that was on the coffee table. “You want me to do it? Because, I don’t have a problem with offing one of the little bastards.”

Frank grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she screamed and dropped the knife. He pointed it at her, deciding that she really was mentally ill. “This is my operation, my decision.”

She laughed, at the same time holding onto her wrist. “Then make a decision. We’re wasting time. The longer this goes on, the less likely were going to get what we have coming to us. And, this time, we need to up the stakes. We need to demand ten million.”

Frank let out a long breath but kept his eyes downcast. He considered what she’d said and nodded. “I think you’re right about that.” He stood up. “We’ve earned a bigger payday.”

Sasha came over to him. Her face was slick as she smiled at him, her voice frenetic. “Are you going to do it? Are you finally going to slice open one of the kids, gut him?”

He didn’t answer, instead heading for the basement door. Sasha came after him. “Do it, Frank. Cut one of their hearts out. That will send them a message.”

He turned and stared at her. In that moment Frank Dyer saw Sasha for what she truly was. While she might be an attractive woman, someone who was great in bed, she was also mentally ill and evil in its purest form. He might have his own faults, but Sasha was a cold-blooded killer. She was, after all, the one who convinced him that slicing off Maria Chavez’s head would send a message that no one would soon forget.

“Stay here,” he said, opening the door.

As Frank took the knife and made his way downstairs, he was surprised at how cold the basement was. Then he heard the children. They were crying, no, make that sobbing. He stopped when he got over to them and Allison, deciding this was worse than before, when he had to cut off their mother’s finger.

Allison held her crying children in her arms, staring at him. She finally said, “What are you going to do?”

Frank took a breath, bent down, and grabbed Bobby by the arm. “He’s coming with me.”

After catching a ride with one of Brie’s coworkers, I got back to Hollywood Station early that afternoon. Bernie and I met up with Leo and we drove together to Samantha Potter’s aunt’s house. Millie Randolph lived in a modest tract home in Sherman Oaks with her husband, Hal. We found Shelia Woods and her crew setting up for the interview with Sam.

“We’re going to shoot in the back yard,” Woods announced after we said our hellos and had introduced ourselves to Sam’s aunt. We learned that Samantha’s uncle was working and not at home.

Millie Randolph looked like she was in her late thirties. She had brown eyes, and hair that was shorter than mine. She was a bit heavy and seemed nervous with the camera crew and Woods scurrying about. 

While we waited for the crew to set things in place, I met alone with Randolph in her living room. I told her that Leo and I needed to have a private conversation with her niece after Woods was finished with her interview. After she agreed to the request, I mentioned what Selfie had learned about her sister being unhappy in her marriage.

“Both your sister’s best friend Anna and your sister Heidi felt there were some problems in the marriage.” I glanced out the window and saw that Samantha was in the backyard where one of Woods’ crew was showing her his camera. “Your sister even said she thought Maggie might be seeing someone she knew from college. Apparently they worked on the school newspaper together.”

“Derek?” She laughed. “They were just friends. They stayed in touch, but I’m sure there was nothing going on between them.” She lowered her voice. “Heidi sometimes jumps to conclusions. I think Derek is gay.”

I knew from the original police reports that Maggie Potter hadn’t told anyone in her family about her terminal illness, except her husband. I decided there was no reason to betray that confidence and tell her sister. “What about Walter? Could he have been seeing someone?

She shrugged. “I really don’t know. We weren’t close, and Maggie never said anything to me about him.”

“What about someone else who was close to Walter or your sister?”

After another sigh and some thought, she said, “There really wasn’t anyone, other than Hal and me, and their pastor, Reverend Stan.”

“Was Maggie close to him?”

She chuckled. “Yes, but if you’re thinking they were involved…I just can’t see them together.”

“Why is that?”

The lines on her forehead came together as she regarded me. “You mean you’ve never heard of Reverend Stan Pressley?” I shook my head. “He’s the head of that megachurch in Glendale that’s on TV. He and his wife have thousands of followers.”

“But you don’t think he and Maggie could have been more than just friends?”

She laughed. “His wife Meagan does the TV show with her husband, and, to tell you the truth, I think she’s half the reason people watch—especially the men.”

“You mean she’s attractive?”

She lowered her voice a notch. “If God had a supermodel, it would be Meagan.”

“What about Walter and her? Do you know if they were close?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

I chatted with Randolph for a few minutes longer before Leo and I also had a brief conversation with Sam. We tried to calm her nerves and assured her that she didn’t have to talk about anything during her interview with Shelia Woods that made her feel uncomfortable. Sam, whose maturity was amazing for a nine-year-old girl, assured us that she would be fine.

Leo and I then spent the next hour watching as Woods slowly developed the story of Sam’s parents’ death, taking her through the events leading up to the night of their murder.

She then asked Sam, “Did you hear anything that night? Maybe something out of the ordinary, or someone in the house.”

Sam, who was wearing a green dress, shook her head. “I’m a pretty sound sleeper. I didn’t hear a thing.”

Woods nodded and began moving into territory that I knew would be traumatic. “When you got up the next morning, what did you do?”

Sam took a moment before responding. There was a heaviness in her voice when she said, “I used the bathroom, then went into the kitchen. Usually mom…” She drew in a breath. Woods softened her tone and told her to take her time. “Sometimes I sleep a little late. I only had a few minutes to catch the bus and there was nothing set out for breakfast.”

“Your mom usually had breakfast ready,” Woods said.

Sam nodded. “I usually just have cereal.”

The reporter lowered her voice even further, probably just for dramatic effect, “And what happened next?”

“I…I went into…I checked the bedroom…” She blinked several times and didn’t continue.

There was a reason I didn’t like Shelia Woods. What she said next only reinforced my feelings. “Tell us exactly what you saw and how you felt, Samantha.”

Despite her maturity and the passage of time since her parents’ deaths, Sam broke down. Through her tears she managed to give Woods and her viewers a glimpse of the horror she’d witnessed. “Mom and Dad were in bed. I called out to them, but…they didn’t respond. I walked over to the bed…then I saw the blood. I could see Mom’s face…she didn’t even look like Mom…”

Sam lost all control, even as Woods continued to probe for the gory details of what she’d seen. It was enough to make me want to scream at the reporter, stop the recording, and hold the girl in my arms.

The only thing that stopped me from ending the interview was Sam. There was a change in her as she controlled her emotions, brushed her tears away, and looked at Woods. “I don’t feel very comfortable talking about what I saw that morning. Please don’t ask me any more questions about it.”

I wanted to go over and kiss her. Woods asked a few unrelated follow-up questions, feigning sympathy for what Sam had endured, and the interview ended a few minutes later.

When it was over, Woods came over and asked me how I thought things had gone. I held nothing back. “I think you took advantage of a young girl who suffered a terrible trauma. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Woods smiled. “That’s complete nonsense, but thanks for your opinion.”

Leo pulled me away from her, probably realizing that I was on the verge of losing what little control I had. After Woods and her camera crew had left the house, we met with Sam in her aunt’s den. I began by asking how she was doing after the interview.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I know Ms. Woods wanted me to cry and get upset, but I was determined to not do that.” She met my eyes. “How do you think I did?”

“I think you were amazing. I couldn’t have done any better myself.”

Leo then focused in on the reason we wanted to talk to her. “There’s a man who lived with his parents on the street above your parents’ house. His name is Howard Dern. Have you ever met him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

I had a mug shot of Dern and showed it to her.

“Oh, him.” She nodded. “He was in the neighborhood a lot. He always had a camera.”

“Did he ever talk to you?” Leo asked.

“A couple of times, but I just walked away. He was kind of creepy.”

I laughed. “You’re a good judge of character.” I began heading into deeper waters. “Mr. Dern told us that he was awake the night your parents died. He said he saw a man park on the street and go into your house.”

Sam brushed the hair out of her eyes and exhaled. “I didn’t see anyone.”

I nodded. “I understand.” I took a moment, trying to choose my words carefully. “Sam, was there anyone coming around your house before your parents were killed, maybe somebody who you don’t remember having seen before?”

“I’m not sure.”

I kept probing, trying to rephrase what I was after and hoping it would trigger something. “What about someone who might have been a friend of your parents? Or someone else who just stopped by now and then.”

Leo and I exchanged a look as she took a minute to think about my question. She finally said, “Mom’s friend Anna came by sometimes.”

“Anyone besides her?”

She shrugged. “Just some woman I saw talking to mom. I don’t know her name, but she was really pretty.”

I thought about my earlier conversation with her aunt about the reverend’s wife. “How many times did she come by?”

“Maybe just once or twice. I’m not really sure.”

“And, did she talk to both your mom and your dad?”

She shook her head. “Just my mom. I think she wasn’t very happy about something. It seemed like they were arguing.”

“Did you hear what they were talking about?”

“I’m not sure.”

I took a breath, feeling frustrated. “Is there anything else that you can tell us about this woman?”

She thought for a moment. “Like I said, she was pretty.” Her eyes brightened. “And her voice was different.”

“In what way?”

Leo’s phone was ringing as Sam said, “I went to Texas with Mom and Dad a couple of years ago. She spoke like someone from there.”

Leo walked away to answer the call. Sam was able to give me a partial description of the woman, telling me that she had dark curly hair and blue eyes. I asked, “When was the last time you saw her?”

She took a moment and said, “I think it was a couple of days before Mom and Dad died.”

I nodded and said, “Your aunt Millie said that your mom and dad went to a church over in Glendale where a Pastor Stan Pressley preaches. Could this woman have been the pastor’s wife? I think her name is Meagan.”

“Maybe, but I’m not sure. They’d only been going to the church for a few weeks. I went a couple of times, but don’t remember seeing the reverend’s wife.”

Leo ended his call and said, “Something’s breaking on Marsh. We need to go, now.”