The Mourning Mail (final release candidate #7)

Chapter 46

Now that I had the lay of the land, I put the reverser in my purse, stepped back on the small landing, and knocked on the Sheryl's door. At first, there was no answer.

"Shawntelle, it's Angie. I know you're in there, and I need to talk to you, something happened to your car," I called out, using a ruse that had worked for me in other interviews.

Sheryl answered through the four-inch crack allowed by the latch chain, looking apprehensive and then confused. "Angie, what are you doing here?!? What happened to my car?"

"Is your car a black Monte Carlo?" I asked. "I saw someone trying to jack the rims."

"No, I have a white Corolla," Sheryl answered hesitantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought somebody might be stealing from your car," I said. "I was coming here to talk to you about Doc when I saw that going on and thought you'd want to know—may I come in?" I asked.

"Doc's not here—what do you want?" Sheryl asked, her eyes narrowed, and her face turned slightly to one side as she backed further away from the opening. Her tone and demeanor were suspicious, and she was clearly on the defensive.

"Sheryl, Doc's coming to kill you. It's because you helped move Mrs. Seaver's body a year ago," I said, the irony that I'd have to lie again to gain her trust not lost on me. "One of my snitches told me you're here and where you work – too many people know where to find you. I don't think we should talk about this where everyone can hear us."

"Go away!" Sheryl exclaimed as she pushed the door closed.

"Sheryl, the word on the street is Doc sent Ainsworth to kill you," I called out through the door. "The police are closing in on them, and you know too much about Theresa and everything else they've done," I said, winging it.

"Talk to me, Sheryl, and I'll help you. Otherwise, I'll have to call Seaver and tell him where I found you, where you're working, and about all of your friends. Or maybe I'll just wait for the police to get here. You choose."

"Shit!" I could hear Sheryl scream though the door, and then a few seconds later. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"Look, Sheryl, there's no place you can hide. You need my help. That's why I'm here."

After waiting a moment, I added, "Sheryl, I'm not going away. I can camp out by your car for a week if I have to – you can't leave without coming through this door. And when you decide to come out, it might not be me standing here, it'll be Ainsworth, or could be Ricky Mason. They could just shoot you through the door with a silencer. They'd probably do that during the night, though, or sometime when you're sleeping."

I wanted to overwhelm Sheryl with things to think about.

"Sure, you could call somebody, but Doc's offering up a lot of money – how do you know they wouldn't be working with him? Or that Doc won't kill them for helping you? Do you really want Doc going after Randi's daughter to get to you?"

It took another couple of minutes before I got a reaction. In the meantime, I whistled the Jeopardy theme song to let her know I was still there.

"Who the fuck are you? I mean, really...," Sheryl asked through the door, a little calmer but not yet convinced enough to let me in.

"My name is Debra Ann Wynn. I'm an investigative reporter – I do work for the Union-Tribune and other papers. You can look me up online and see my picture. I'm just trying to make sure nobody else gets hurt from Doc murdering his wife."

"I'll see if I can find you on the Internet," Sheryl said with obvious reluctance in her voice.

"That's W-Y-N-N," I called out, crossing my fingers I was making progress.

It was a good sign when she opened the door again a few minutes later, but using the latch chain - at least she hadn't shut me out for good. "Okay, so you're a reporter," Sheryl said. "Everybody wants something - how do I know you're not here to screw me over?"

"If I wanted to hurt you, I could have just made a scene at the nail salon, and you'd lose your job. Slash your tires to make it so you couldn't go anywhere. I didn't do any of that—I'm not here to cause you trouble. But you need to know Doc and Ainsworth are killing everyone who knows the true story about his wife," I said. "I knew three of the people he killed and I'm trying to stop him from killing anyone else."

"Who'd Doc kill you would know?" Sheryl asked, her voice softening slightly but still doubtful. I noticed she didn't question the idea of Doc killing three people.

"The police think Doc had his neighbor shot dead in the poor man's living room. That neighbor was Coach Cantor, my high school basketball coach and my Sunday school teacher when I was little. And I know people working for him killed an Uber driver named Antara when Doc tried to get at me," I said, showing her the brace on my left wrist. "But before that, Doc was involved in the murder of a man named Brian Pierce."

"I never heard about killing any 'Antara' or 'Brian'...," Sheryl said hesitantly.

"Brian used to rob houses once in a while to make some money. He was in the middle of stealing from that house when Doc, you, and Ricky Mason moved Theresa's body. Brian painted the wall and the carpet to tell Doc he knew what Doc did to his wife."

"Ricky Mason killed Brian, and the police know the dead man graffitti'd Doc's place. That gives Doc motive, proves there's a connection. You and Ricky became one big headache for Doc when the police started asking questions and looking for witnesses," I said. It seemed I was gaining traction as Sheryl showed surprise at what I knew but denied nothing. It was good that she didn't dispute Ricky's last name, indirectly confirming one of my suspicions. Now it was time to get a little creative.

I couldn't know what Doc's sleeping arrangements might be, but Sheryl wouldn't doubt he had at least one other woman. "Doc has a new girlfriend feeding him bad thoughts about you and what you might do. Jealousy, just staking out her territory. Doc doesn't want the police to find you before he takes you out of the picture."

"But I didn't do anything to hurt him," Sheryl said, her tone defensive.

"It's not what you did; it's what he thinks you'll do. His new girl's talked Doc into believing you'll rat him out. You know how he gets when he decides someone is disloyal to him."

"Is anybody with you?" Sheryl asked, a trace of suspicion lingering in her voice. She tried to see the surroundings over my shoulder, pressing her face into the gap between the door and frame.

"No, it's just me, and nobody else knows I'm here," I said. I added another white lie to protect myself from any threat Sheryl might pose once I was alone with her. "The police have this address and your job, but Ricky Mason's got more blood on his hands and they want to get him first."

That was good enough for her to buy into my pitch. Sheryl closed the door just enough to remove the latch chain and then stuck her head outside to scout the side of the building, first to the left and then to the right. "Okay, you can come in, but you can't stay too long. I've got someplace I need to go."

Now I had my opportunity—I knew her priorities would change if I did my job well.

Ididn't realize how much the story she was about to tell would change mine.