by Maria Pease
The reception area was decorated in elegant golds and yellows with a beautiful crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the room. Despite the size of the hall, it had a surprisingly cozy feel to it. Jan showed us around while the wait staff buzzed about, adding the final touches. Jan took us down the hall to the media room and introduced us to the reporters, photographers, camera operators and a variety of assistants who were covering the event. They told us we could use the room to regroup or to take a breather if we needed to. That wasn’t going to happen.
We moved back to the ballroom and found a spot on the spiral staircase that allowed us the perfect view of the entry. Alana and I stayed there while Jan made her way to the door. As a seasoned and respected reporter, she had certain privileges and was given first priority to the elite guests in attendance.
The noise level began to rise as the guests shuffled in and I wondered if it would affect my ability to hear Frank.
Before I’d even finished my thought, his voice sounded in my earpiece. “Sam, testing, testing. Can you hear me?”
“We hear you, loud and clear,” I said, as Alana gave me a thumbs up.
“Any sign of our target?”
“Not yet. I’ll let you know when I see her.”
“Roger that.”
I watched the guests file into the hall; everyone was dressed to kill. I was scanning the room when I saw her walk in wearing a long, silver, shimmering evening gown with silver heels and a matching purse. She was escorted in by none other than the man I’d come to know as Montgomery. As they moved into the room, I stared at them, attempting to get a read on what they were about. As they moved through the crowd, all eyes were on them, and I wondered why.
“Frank, the package has arrived.”
“Got it. Time to go to work, ladies.”
I spotted Jan and her photographer doing an interview and we made our way toward her.
When she finished, she moved to us. “Are you ready to meet Chanel?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
“Where’d she go?” Jan asked.
“Over there.” Alana pointed across the room.
As we moved through the crowd, Chanel caught sight of Jan and walked toward us. They said their hellos then Jan turned to me. “I’d like you to meet my associate, Laci Connor, and her intern, Alana. Laci is new to our paper.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“It’s so nice to meet you both.” She smiled. “I’d better get back, but Jan, I’ll be sending you an invitation to the Southern California Women’s Business Conference. I’d love it if you’d consider speaking.”
“Of course. Just send me the details,” Jan told her as she disappeared into the crowd. Jan looked at me. “My work here is done. I’d better go. Keep me in the loop, will you?”
“Of course.”
Once Jan melted into the crowd, Alana looked at me. “That’s it?”
“No. That’s just the beginning, Alana. Come with me.”
We moved through the crowd towards Chanel and Montgomery, trying to look like we fit in when I heard a booming voice from the front of the room. On the stage at the lectern stood the Temecula mayor, who was asking the guests to be sure they had put their tickets in the boxes for the silent auction. He went on to announce the event speakers and then introduced Chanel Pinkay.
I watched Montgomery kiss her on the cheek and help her to the stage before retreating to the bar.
Chanel talked about growing up in the shadow of her famous attorney father, Charles, and at thirteen, the loss of her mother who’d been the glue that had kept the family together. With her mother gone, her father had withdrawn, focusing instead on booze and women, leaving Chanel to fend for herself. The crowd was riveted as she talked about how the experience had shaped her and motivated her to build her cosmetics business. She spoke to the crowd for fifteen minutes and when she came off the stage, I was right there.
“Your story is so inspiring. I’d love to learn more. Would it be possible to interview you for the paper?”
I watched her watch me, sizing me up.
Knowing Jan regularly covered her, I reassured her I would get the okay from Jan.
“Let me check my schedule.” With that, she turned and made her way to the bar. Alana and I stayed close while she made her way to Montgomery, who handed her a glass of chardonnay. They began to mingle as we watched and listened. We didn’t see or hear anything unusual, as expected. For us, this was just an opportunity to meet Chanel and we’d accomplished that goal.
Once all the speakers had finished and the auction was done, the mayor offered a closing speech, thanking everyone for their support. He then made it clear it was time to go home.
“Good job, ladies. I’m out,” Frank said.
“Frank?” He was gone.
Alana and I moved out of the hall, staying behind Chanel and Montgomery, watching as their limo pulled up. At first glance, I thought it was Wally driving but my heart jumped as I got a closer look. “Holy shit, that’s Michael Carson!”
“Where?” Alana scanned the area.
“The Limo.” I quickly went down the steps and moved to the limo as Chanel and Montgomery lingered, talking with the Mayor. I stepped around to the driver side window.
Michael looked around nervously.
I motioned for him to open the window. “Michael, what the hell is going on?” I watched Chanel and Montgomery, deep in conversation.
“I can’t talk now. It won’t be good for me if they see you.”
“Why are you driving for Chanel Pinkay?”
“I don’t know who that is. I’m picking up Kennedy Sinclair and Mr. Montgomery. You need to get away from here before they see you.”
“Kennedy Sinclair?” I asked.
“Yes. Please, just go!”
I took a card from my purse and handed it to him. “Put this someplace safe. Get in touch when you can.” I moved away, trying to be inconspicuous.
Alana and I kept our distance but watched as Chanel and Montgomery made their way to the limo and pull away.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Starving!”
We stopped and picked up burgers and fries. “It’s so weird. Michael said he didn’t even know who Chanel Pinkay was. He said he was driving for Kennedy Sinclair and Mr. Montgomery.”
“What did he mean?” Alana asked.
“It means things may be even more complicated than I thought.”
I dropped Alana off, watching to be sure she got in okay, then headed home. Turning on the television, I went to the kitchen, opened a bottle of chardonnay and went upstairs to put on my sweats. I sent a quick email to Jan, thanking her for the introduction to Chanel and told her about asking for an interview. As I enjoyed my wine, I added the new information I had to my note cards and watched re-runs of Law & Order.
My sleep had been restless as I tried to understand my conversation with Michael. Why had he referred to Chanel as Kennedy Sinclair? And why was he acting as their chauffeur? It made no sense. I finally gave up on sleep and decided to go for a run to clear my head. Five miles later, I actually felt energized.
I took a hot shower, threw on black pants and a tan and white sweater, enjoyed a quick bowl of Rice Chex and headed to the office. Arriving earlier than usual, it was no surprise that Frank’s big truck was absent from the parking lot. I let myself in and started a pot of coffee.
Several messages were on my desk, and as I sifted through them, one caught my eye. It was from Nicole Ravago, Michael Carson’s friend who’d first informed Stacy Carson about Michael’s plans to come to Temecula. The message asked that I call her back as soon as possible. I glanced at the clock and dialed the number.
Her high-pitched voice caught me off guard and I had to remind myself she wasn’t a child, but a seventeen-year-old young woman. She asked if we’d found Michael and I offered enough information to convey he was alive but was still technically missing.
She said she’d been receiving ca
lls from an unfamiliar number. After looking it up, she found it was from California. I pressed her for more and she said that no one actually spoke. They stayed on the line for a bit then hung up without a word. She wondered if it might be Michael, trying to reach her.
“I appreciate you telling me about this, Nicole. Please call me right away if they call again. And would you please email me a copy of your phone bill so I can get a clear picture of when the calls are made and see if there’s a pattern?”
She agreed and I disconnected.
Frank and Alana came in just as I was adding this new information to my index cards. Once they had some coffee and had settled in, I updated them on my conversation with Nicole. We discussed a few possible scenarios and attempted to make some connections, but decided we needed to dig deeper. I reviewed my case files again, hoping for a glimmer of clarity, but was ultimately left wondering what the hell was going on?
All at once, a thought hit me. I searched frantically for the schedule Jan had sent. I stared at it for a moment and then leaped out of my chair.
“Let’s go!”
Chapter 35
Alana set her coffee down, grabbed her bag, and followed me to the door.
“Where are you going?” Frank called.
“I’ll call you later!”
We rushed to the Jeep and made our way to the Broken Yolk Café on Ynez.
“What are we doing?” Alana asked.
“Chanel is speaking to a group called California Women Lead. I thought we could bump into her.”
“How are we going to do that?”
Inside, I asked the hostess where the group was meeting and slipped behind the curtain that was supposed to keep them separate from the rest of the customers. I was relieved that we’d arrived early and found the room was empty, except for one woman walking around, distributing literature at each place setting. We stood unnoticed for a full minute before she looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“We must be early,” I said.
“I’ll have the sign-up sheet available in just a minute,” she said, as she continued around a table.
There were five round tables, each with eight seats. The tablecloths were white, as were the plates and coffee cups. A small bouquet of what looked like lavender daisies sat in the center of each table. As the woman moved to her bag, the smell of bacon filled the room and within seconds, the wait staff began moving about, placing chafing dishes on the long table at the back of the room.
The woman placed a clipboard on the small table just inside the curtain and I moved to it. She handed me a pen and casually asked for our invitations. My expression must have said it all.
“You do have your invitations, don’t you?” she asked.
“I … well …” I mumbled, trying to think on my feet. “Actually, no. We’re from The Californian Newspaper. We’ve been assigned to do a piece on Chanel Pinkay.” I reached in my bag and thankfully, I had my press credentials for Laci Connors with me. I held them out to show the woman.
She glanced at them and then looked around uncomfortably.
“It there something wrong?” I asked.
“We’re not going to have enough seats.”
“We can just sit in the back of the room. No one will even know we’re here.”
She disappeared from the room without a word and Alana eyed me. We were both holding our breath, unsure of what to expect when a tall, thick young man walked in carrying a small square two-top, followed by another carrying two chairs. They set them down in the back of the room, moving quickly to set the table and disappeared as quickly as they came.
“I can’t believe she bought it,” Alana whispered.
“C’mon. Don’t you know who you’re dealing with by now?”
She laughed and shrugged as the woman came back toward us.
“Once everyone arrives, we’ll have a fifteen-minute reception where everyone can have breakfast and chat, followed by the start of our meeting featuring our guest speaker. Please feel free to help yourself to breakfast,” she said, moving to greet some new arrivals.
I reached in my bag and pulled out my small recorder, checking to be sure it was ready to go. We were offered coffee and we sipped as we watched the door. As the room began to fill up, I found myself studying the fashion and jewelry as the ladies milled around, chatting. There was still no sign of Chanel and I wondered if she liked to make an entrance. After seeing her at the fundraiser, I expected she did.
The food smelled delicious and my stomach reacted with a low growl. Alana glanced at me and although we were there under false pretenses, we figured it wouldn’t hurt to grab a bagel and a few slices of bacon.
We stared at the door as the hostess waited nervously. It was just about time for the meeting to start and there was still no sign of Chanel.
The wait staff moved quickly around the room offering coffee, while the hostess made her way to the front of the room. She introduced herself as Danielle Duncan, the newly-appointed president of California Women Lead and went on to explain the mission of the group – a nonprofit organization dedicated to assisting women who want to run for office. She went on to share a few of their success stories. As she spoke, her eyes periodically darted toward the door. I expected she must be nervous her guest speaker would be a no-show, and to be honest, she wasn’t alone.
I was thinking maybe it was time to go when Chanel walked into the room. I could almost feel a collective sigh of relief as Danielle Duncan began her introduction. Chanel glanced around, looking cool and collected in her pale pink pantsuit with matching high heels. She wore her hair in a sleek ponytail and large silver earrings dangled from her ears.
Everyone stood and applauded as Chanel took the stage. In the twenty minutes she spoke, her stories focused on her meager beginnings as a girl with a dream of running a cosmetics business. Her interest in the beauty industry started as a little girl who loved to watch her mother dress to go out. Her mother always told her that putting on make-up was like becoming a princess, and every girl deserved to feel like one every day. That message had stayed with her throughout her lifetime and, although she’d had her choice of high paying jobs upon graduation, she’d felt compelled to help every girl look and feel like the princess she deserved to be.
She admitted it hadn’t always been easy and stressed the importance of being resilient and keeping one’s vision in the forefront of one’s mind, no matter how many setbacks encountered. She finished with what sounded a bit like a challenge. She told them women need to step into their power and not be afraid to push men aside to get what they wanted. She ended with, “As women, we have just what it takes to run this country. We just have to decide to do it.”
An awkward silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity. Then, the room exploded in applause and excitement that felt a lot like a revival. As she stepped off the stage, women moved to talk with her and she spent the next forty-five minutes talking with each one. When things began to settle down, Alana and I moved to the exit so she couldn’t slip out before we had the opportunity to set up a meeting.
I was still reeling from her empowering speech and in awe of her focus as she spoke with each of the woman like they were the only one that mattered.
She took a minute to bid goodbye then headed for the door.
“Ms. Pinkay,” I said, as she moved past us. “Can I have a minute?”
She stopped, turned to me, and smiled. “You’re the reporter who works with Jan. I apologize. I don’t remember your name.”
“Laci Connor. This is my student intern, Alana.”
“Yes, of course. What can I do for you?”
“I’m interested in doing a story on you.”
“Oh, I’m flattered, but to be honest, I’m going away on business.”
I admit I was caught off guard because according to her schedule, she had a number of appearances in the upcoming weeks. “Perhaps when you return?”
“Perhaps.” She moved quickly to t
he limo sitting under a tree in the corner of the lot. Eager to see who was driving, I followed her outside and set my focus on the driver, who’d gotten out to open the door. She stepped inside.
The driver glanced at me, quickly making sure she was inside before closing the door. I stood there, looking at Michael Carson as he sent me a hesitant nod.
Alana and I ran to the Jeep and jumped in. As we followed behind, I could see Michael watching through the rear-view mirror, but he didn’t speed up as I’d expected. They merged on to the 15-freeway heading north. They stayed in the right lane, taking the Bundy Road exit heading west. We followed on the winding road, making sure to keep our distance. All at once, the limo turned left and pulled down a long dirt driveway.
I had no choice but to continue past it. I found a convenience store just down the street, so I pulled in and turned around. The no trespassing sign was large and totally visible and although I knew that driving down wasn’t an option, I did consider making my way on foot … until I looked at Alana. I could hear Frank’s voice in my head, warning it would be a mistake. I pulled over and thought about how I could get a look without doing something foolish.
“Are we going to go check it out?” Alana asked.
I wanted to. I wanted to so much. “That’s not a good idea,” I said, pointing to the no trespassing sign.
“How are we going to find out what’s going on?”
“It’s not like what you see on television. If we break the law, we will pay for it.” My phone buzzed.
“Hey, Frank.”
I filled him in on our location and mentioned the sign that was so clearly visible. He told me we were to stay and survey the situation but not to go onto the property.
I scanned the area and had an idea. I started the Jeep and moved down to the next driveway. Without any signs visible, I continued driving slowly, watching to see if anyone emerged. With no signs of life, I pulled up next to the house.