Hollywood Murder

by M. Z. Kelly

  After saying my hellos and greeting Bernie, Nana wasted no time irritating me. “I heard you’ve been acting like a foolish schoolgirl in heat with your new boyfriend.”

  Natalie, who also had little patience when it came to Nana, said, “Kate’s finally found the man of her dreams. There’s nuthin’ wrong with that.”

  “Yeah,” Mo chimed in. My heavyset friend was fond of wigs and was sporting a shoulder length chartreuse headpiece. “Long as she’s gettin’ what the doctor ordered, it ain’t nobody’s business.”

  “I’ll bet that doggy doctor is hornier than Bernie,” Nana added. “How many times did you do it when you were with him in Hawaii?”

  I took a breath and released it slowly. Noah and I had gone to Maui together and had been back less than a week. “Sorry, but I didn’t count.”

  “No matter. I hold the Guinness Book of World Records for continuous coitus anyway. Me and a guy I once dated did it fifty-seven times in one night.”

  Mo regarded Nana with one eye, in that way she had when she disapproved of something. “I knew a lot of working girls when I was a pimp. Some of ’em worked all night, but what you’re suggesting ain’t even possible.”

  “Unless you had ’bout twenty guys in the room,” Natalie added.

  Nana straightened her lime green blouse. “Believe what you will. It was an extremely vigorous night. I plan to use some of my personal experiences in my upcoming show.”

  I shouldn’t have asked, but I’ve always had a problem keeping my big mouth shut. “What kind of show?”

  “It’s a talk show I’m working on with the studios called Bedtime Stories. I’m going to have guests show up and talk about their sex lives, kind of like Howard Stern.” She regarded me. “Since you were a born again virgin until recently, I could save a spot for you.”

  Nana was talking about the fact that, before I met Noah, I’d been on a relationship hiatus, trying to sort out my personal life. Neither she nor my friends understood my decision not to be involved with anyone until I was sure it was the right relationship. “Thanks, but I’ll pass on the show.”

  Nana grimaced. “That figures. You’ve probably got nothing worth talking about anyway, unless people want to hear about fake orgasms and the missionary position.”

  I bit my tongue, doing my best to ignore her.

  Nana stood and said, “I’ve got to be going. My posse is waiting for me.”

  “What posse?” Natalie asked.

  Nana’s oversized dentures gleamed in the ceiling lights. “My entourage is waiting in my limo. I don’t go anywhere without them. I have a certain image to maintain.”

  After she was gone, Mo shook her big head and said, “Nuthin’ like maintaining your image as a crazy old woman in heat.”

  “I was thinking ’bout Lindsay today,” Natalie said to me, changing the subject, and, no doubt, happy that Nana was gone. “Is there anything new on her whereabouts?”

  I sighed, thinking about my half-sister. Lindsay had been taken in by a group of killers that called themselves The Swarm. What had started out as a kidnapping had turned into Lindsay apparently suffering Stockholm syndrome. She’d willingly become part of the group that had gone underground. I had no idea where she was or what she was planning.

  “I haven’t heard a thing,” I said. “I’m worried that she’s going to surface one of these days and do something we’ll all regret.”

  “We haven’t given up on finding her,” Mo said, maybe just to try and bolster my spirits. “I got my sources on the streets keeping their eyes open.”

  In Mo’s prior life as a pimp, she’d specialized in getting girls off the streets. I knew that she still had a lot of contacts and said, “I appreciate that.”

  “So tell us ’bout your meeting with Collin Russell,” Natalie said, moving the conversation in a new direction. “We wanna hear what he knows ’bout that Kellen Malone bloke.”

  My friends knew all about my mother’s letters, what she’d said about Donald Regis and Kellen Malone, and that Collin Russell had been friends with her at one time. I took a moment, filling them in on our conversation, and telling them that Malone was Russell’s son and he was a member of the Revelation.

  “What?” Natalie said. “I thought Russell was gay.”

  “He is, but he was married at one time. He and his wife have been divorced for years, but Malone is his son. He also told me that Malone threatened to kill him if he ever told anyone that he’s his father.” I told them how Russell was deathly afraid of his own son. “He also told me that the Revelation had a hitman back in the eighties. His name was Ryan Cooper.”

  Mo regarded me with one eye, just as she’d done earlier with Nana. “Let’s take a step back. Did you say Malone is part of the Revelation?” I again confirmed what Russell had told me. Mo’s enormous breasts rose, then deflated. “This is some serious shit.”

  “What do you know about the organization?” I asked.

  “Just that anybody who crosses ’em ends up dead. We gotta reevaluate how we investigate this case.”

  “Not to worry, Mo,” Natalie said. “I got me some new judo moves and took a class on fifty ways to be a ball-buster.”

  Mo maintained her serious expression. “This is way bigger than a bunch of balls, baby sis.”

  I met Mo’s dark eyes. “You’re genuinely concerned, aren’t you?”

  She nodded her head, looking slightly off balance with the chartreuse wig. “If Jean Winslow, your love-daddy, and now Donald Regis were all whacked by Kellen Malone and the Revelation, and they know that we know…” She swallowed. “I think we need us a new strategy, something that will protect our identities.”

  “You mean like one of them witness protection programs?” Natalie asked. “I wanna be a redhead named Claudia Le Bleu, and speak in a French accent.”

  I looked at Natalie, wondering where she came up with her fantasies. “Sorry, Claudia, but a protection program isn’t an option. But, Mo’s right. I want us all to back off and stay out of things until I decide how to handle this.”

  “What you gonna do?” Mo asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I need to tell Lieutenant Oz about everything. I don’t know if we have enough for this to rise to a formal investigation, but I need to run it all past him.” My gaze moved between the two of them. “In the meantime, I need your word that you’ll stay out of everything. You can do some research on the group, but that’s it.”

  Mo agreed. Natalie said something about us having cold feet, but gave in when Mo also told her that she needed to back off.

  I stood up and got Bernie’s leash. “I’ve got a busy day at work tomorrow, so I’m going to call it a night.”

  Mo got out of her chair and came over to me. “We heard you’re gonna be on that TV show Hollywood Detective.”

  I’d almost forgotten about agreeing to do the documentary about how detectives in Hollywood operate. “Leo Kingsley, my new partner, and I agreed to look into a cold case, but I’m not looking forward to having a camera crew and a reporter following us around.”

  “Kate’s gonna be a star,” Natalie said. “Maybe you’ll get your own series and become rich and famous.”

  “Baby sis and me could be your agents,” Mo said. “Maybe we can negotiate the big bucks for you.”

  I snapped Bernie’s leash on his collar. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll settle for my quiet little life of poverty and murder.”

  Natalie came over to me when we were at the door. “I almost forgot to mention, me and Mo have been doing some security work for that celebrity chef, Marlon Pavarotti. He’s teaching us how to cook and make exotic drinks. Marlon agreed to come by tomorrow night and whip up some of his specialties.”

  “You and Bernie are welcome to stop by,” Mo said. “Marlon’s teaching baby sis to make one of his new drinks. It’s called a Dirty Harriett.”

  I looked at Natalie. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “I’d tell you what’s in it, but then I’d have to kill you.”
She chuckled and punched me on the shoulder. “All I can say is the drink is like great sex. It starts out real smooth, sneaks up on you, and then makes you start begging for more.”

  I laughed. “I think I’ll pass on the Harriett, but I’ll try to stop by tomorrow night.”

  FIVE

  “I’m going to have to work late tonight,” Vince Marsh told his wife.

  It was a little before six and the handsome attorney had already had a long day. He went over, held his bride of seven years in his arms and kissed her. He turned in time to see the kids playing in the living room. Jenna was six and, as usual, seemed lost in her own world. She’d been diagnosed with autism when she was four and didn’t talk. Bobby had just turned four and was her opposite. He was your typical boy; loud and full of energy. Vince and Allison publicly referred to the children as their little darlings. Privately, Vince called them the little monsters.

  “Daddy!” Bobby said, running over and leaping into his arms. “Did you bring me a treat? I want candy.”

  Vince contemplated squashing the whiny little boy like a bug, but said, “After dinner mommy will get you and your sister something special.” He looked at Allison, raising his brows.

  After a five minute whining session, Bobby finally wandered off, satisfied that his mother would give him a cupcake if he ate his dinner.

  After Bobby was gone, Vince knew his wife was still upset over his earlier comment about working late. He smiled and lied through his perfect white teeth. “Sorry about having to go back to the office. It’s that Johansen case. If all goes as planned, we’re expecting the jury will award a large settlement in a few weeks.”

  Allison turned away from him and scowled. “Gosh, where have I heard that before?”

  Vince went over and took her in his arms again. Allison Montreal was thirty-one, tall and blonde, with the lithe figure of a dancer. Vince had known that she’d had her choice of suitors when they’d first gotten together. It had taken him months to finally win her over and get her to agree to marry him. Even then, he knew Allison was high maintenance. Now, he despised her existence.

  After lots of reassurance that his late hours would finally pay off, Allison gave him a pouty look and said, “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were having an affair.”

  Vince forced himself to laugh. If you only knew the real story. “Why would I cheat on the most beautiful woman in the world?”

  She brushed her lips against his. “You always were the charmer.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night. I’ll make sure Maria can stay late and watch the kids. We’ll have dinner at the harbor and then…” He laughed. “Like I said, I’ll make it up to you.”

  Allison laughed, breaking the tension. “I’ll make sure you keep your promise.” She cut her eyes to the kitchen. “You’d better check with Maria before you leave. She said something about meeting her sister after work tomorrow night.”

  Vince did as she suggested, only for appearances. The dinner and their evening together would never happen. By tomorrow night, his wife and children would be gone—hopefully for good.

  After getting the housekeeper’s promise to change her plans and work late, Vince kissed his wife and children goodnight, and headed back to his office. As he drove, he was happy about one thing in particular. He would never again have to make love to his complaining bitch of a wife.

  Allison’s father was none other than Henry Montreal, a wealthy investment broker who headed his namesake company, Montreal Investments. He was one of the richest men in the country, not that you’d know it from Vince’s point of view. His father-in-law was a miserly old bastard who had made it clear to him that he had no plans to share his immense fortune with him.

  He remembered a conversation he’d had with Henry shortly after he’d married Allison. They’d just returned from their honeymoon when Henry had invited him to play a round of golf at the Wilshire Country Club. The day hadn’t gone well. After they were joined by a couple of Henry’s elitist friends, Vince had embarrassed himself by playing one of the worst rounds in his life. He’d spent much of the day pretending not to be bothered by their laughter and comments about his game.

  “Let it go, Marsh,” Henry had said over drinks after his friends had left later that day. He laughed. “Maybe you should consider the entire round your Mulligan. Just forget it ever happened.”

  Vince had chuckled and tried to play it off by saying, “Next time let’s put a little wager on the game. I always play better under pressure.”

  Henry’s dark eyes had held on him. His face was solemn. “That’s not what I hear.”

  Vince sipped his Mendelson Ninety-Nine, a craft beer he was fond of. “What do you mean?”

  “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but Ben Harrington and Randall Duffy are friends of mine.”

  Vince released a breath. He’d been with the law firm less than a year, and already knew he hadn’t made much of an impression. “I’m still adjusting to their style. I realize I have a lot to learn.”

  Henry’s smile had been just short of a sneer. “Just so you know, what you’re after isn’t going to happen.”

  Vince had set his beer aside. “I’m sorry?”

  “You think because you married Allison, you’re set for life. That’s not going to be the case.”

  “I don’t expect…”

  Henry had cut him off. “Here’s what I expect. I expect that you will become one of the best lawyers in the firm of Harrington and Duffy. I expect that you will eventually become a full partner. And, I expect that you will give my daughter everything she ever wanted—without any help from me.”

  Vince had tried to hide the disappointment in his voice. It was only as he spoke that he realized the double meaning to what he said. “I’ll make sure Allison gets everything she has coming to her.”

  Montreal had slapped him on the back and ordered another round of drinks. “That’s what I expected you’d say.”

  In the years that followed, his relationship with Henry Montreal hadn’t changed. His father-in-law had made good on his pledge not to give one cent to help out him or his family. And, while he’d eventually made partner in the law firm, Allison had spent nearly every cent he’d made. They were heavily in debt and had even considered filing bankruptcy. He pushed the thoughts away, knowing all that was going to end—tonight.

  After a twenty-minute drive, Vince pulled into the parking garage beneath the high rise where he worked in downtown Los Angeles. He pulled a burner phone out of the glove compartment and called Frank Dyer. When he got the private investigator on the line, he wasted no time making his expectations clear.

  “They will be in the house alone all night, but the housekeeper leaves at ten. Everything needs to be taken care of before that. You already have the security code. After…” He paused, taking a breath. “When you’re finished and the package is delivered, I want to know right away.”

  Dyer’s voice was low and raspy. “Consider it done.”

  The former soldier had told him that he’d been injured in the Iraq War, during the initial invasion of the country. Dyer said he’d been shot, the bullet nicking his vocal cords. The PI claimed it had taken several surgeries before he could speak again.

  Dyer’s reedy voice came back on the line. “What about my payment?”

  “It will be wire-transferred to your offshore account. You’ll get the remainder that we agreed upon after the job is finished.”

  Dyer didn’t respond immediately. Vince thought he’d ended the call, but heard the PI’s wavering voice again. “Have a pleasant evening.”

  Vince put the TracFone away and took the elevator up to his office. He not only planned to have a pleasant evening. After the night was over, he planned to have a pleasant life.

  SIX

  After leaving Natalie and Mo’s apartment, I took Bernie for his evening stroll around the apartment building. The Barkley Bungalows were undergoing renovation and scaffolding had been set up in fro
nt of several of the World War II era units. Despite the construction and rather odd assortment of tenants—several aspiring actors, including some who played zombies, lived in the complex—the place was finally beginning to feel like home.

  When I got back to my apartment, I had a bite to eat, watched a little TV, and got ready for bed. Noah called just after nine and asked me about my day.

  “It was uneventful,” I said, sitting on my bed. “Except for being held at gunpoint by a billionaire.” I took a moment and filled him in on my meeting with Collin Russell and what he’d told me about his son being involved in the Revelation.

  “You really believe there’s an organization that’s running things behind the scenes in Hollywood?”

  “I’ve heard rumors about it for years. I’m not sure how much of it’s true, and, if it is, how much control they have. From what Russell said, they’re powerful and will stop at nothing to get their way.” I went on a moment longer, speculating that Malone and the group might be behind the murder of my love-dad.

  Noah was obviously concerned. “If this group does exist, you need to be careful. I’ve got big plans for you and I don’t want anything interfering.”

  I lay back on the bed. “What exactly do you have in mind, doctor?” Noah was a local veterinarian who lived with a menagerie of dogs, cats, and other assorted animals. We’d met when he’d treated Bernie for a minor injury to his leg.

  “I was thinking about dinner and a concert this Saturday night. If you’d like, we could come back to my place afterward.”

  “Just you, me, and a couple dozen dogs. It sounds very romantic.”

  He laughed. “I promise to keep the dogs downstairs. We probably won’t end up with more than one or two in bed with us before the night’s over.”