by M. Z. Kelly
Leo beamed me one of his patented smiles. “I’m always up for a good game.”
“Suppose we let Woods play detective, let her think she’s onto something with the Potter case that’s a wild goose chase.”
“You mean, set her up?”
“No, just the opposite. You know how she’s always asking questions, trying to dig below the surface. When she goes on one of her forensic treasure hunts, we just nod, sit back, and encourage her to follow up on whatever lead she thinks she’s developed.”
Leo took another bite of his sandwich and nodded. “Meanwhile, we quietly pursue our own leads.” After further reflection, he said, “The problem is, if we break the case she’s going to want in and feel like she’s a part of it.”
It was my turn to smile. “We hook the shark on her own bait, let her swim in her own lagoon for a while, and then reel her in slowly, making her think she’s been instrumental in everything all along. At the same time, she’ll realize she was wasting her time.”
Leo finished the last of his sandwich and tossed the wrapper in a trash can. “Let’s go bait the shark.”
***
We stopped at Hollywood Station and picked up Selfie and Molly before heading to the Hollywood Hills. Bernie sat between the two women in the backseat, panting as we drove.
Selfie, who today was sporting green hair and what looked like a couple of new piercings, mentioned that we were in an expensive area. “So, how did someone who sold insurance like Walter Potter and his wife afford to live up here? Even the fixers in this area have to be around a million.”
Molly answered. “I think they inherited. I remember when I ran the title search on their home as part of the background on the Potters, the deed was transferred from someone with the same last name. It might have been Walter’s mother.”
Selfie pouted. “Why can’t I have rich relatives?”
I answered, taking a page out of the Darby Hall book of cynicism. “Because life is unfair, you pay rent, and then you die.”
After arriving at the Potters’ house we spent the next hour standing around waiting for Shelia Woods and her camera crew to set up. While Leo was on the phone, Woods took a break from her preparations. She found me and Bernie in the back yard and tried to make nice. “Sorry about that misunderstanding we had at the news conference.”
I glared at her. “There was no misunderstanding, just a twisting of the facts.”
“Really? That’s not the way it was intended.”
My eyes drilled into her. “You took a hypothetical statement about the likelihood that a ransom demand would be made, possibly by a phone call, and made it sound like I had stated that as a fact.”
She smiled. “Are you trying to tell me there’s been no ransom demand?”
I brushed the hair off my forehead. “I’m not trying to tell you anything because it would obviously be taken out of context.” I turned away. “Excuse me.”
“Detective.”
I looked back to her. “What?”
She came over to me. “I really am sorry. Maybe we could start over by talking about your sister. What are your thoughts about her being taken in by The Swarm?”
If my eyes were cannons, Woods would have two holes in her. “Really? You expect me to engage in a dialog with you about my sister after…” I exhaled and turned away. “I have nothing to say on the matter.”
Leo had finished his call. I went over to him as Woods went back into the house. He must have seen the fire shooting from my nostrils. “Problems?”
“Nothing that a dagger or a Glock wouldn’t solve.” I took a breath. “What did Oz have to say?”
“Nothing on any ransom demand, so far. It would seem that our kidnappers are working at their own pace.”
I sighed, my gaze taking in the reporter through the French doors as she barked orders at her crew. “I was hoping we’d be saved from this circus.”
We both saw Woods now motioning to us from the door. “Let the circus begin,” Leo said as we began making our way over to her.
I lowered my voice. “Don’t forget. We bait the shark.”
We spent the next half hour walking Woods and her camera crew through the home. They took close-up shots of the bedroom where the couple had been murdered and then the fireplace. Woods did voice-over as the cameras rolled, telling her viewers that the poker used to batter the couple had been taken from the hearth.
We eventually worked our way back into the bedroom where Woods began with some pointed questions. “The knot used to bind the couple, am I correct in assuming that the cord was taken from the blinds here in the bedroom?”
I nodded to Selfie to answer because she had the murder file in her hands. “Our SID, or Scientific Investigation Division, confirmed that the cord was cut off the blind that was closest to the bed.”
Woods looked at me. “What do you suppose the couple was doing while the killer cut down the blinds?”
I didn’t want to speculate, knowing whatever I said would be twisted around and used against me, but I felt obligated to respond. “It’s hard to say. But it’s likely they’d already been threatened and ordered to cooperate. They were probably terrified.”
“Even Mr. Potter? He lies in bed beside his wife, cowering while a killer is getting the rope to tie them up?” She looked at Leo. “It seems like a cowardly thing to do.”
Leo gave her his opinion. “They may have already been threatened with a knife or a gun. It’s impossible to know exactly how it all went down.”
Woods didn’t respond, instead focusing on the unusual knot used in the crime. “You said in our previous discussions that a diamond knot was used to bind them. Let’s talk about that for a moment.”
I again gave her an overview of the knot, its history as it was used by sailors in antiquity.
Woods looked at Selfie and Molly. “And, you said before there’s nothing in the criminal databases that shows this knot having been used in any similar crime.”
Selfie shook her head. “Nothing. And we’ve done analysis on the local, state, and national level.”
“When you say analysis, what exactly does that mean?”
Selfie’s piercings above her brows came together. “We ran computer checks.”
“But you haven’t called all the other jurisdictions?” She looked at me.
I said, “With today’s technology…”
She cut me off. “I know about the technology. I’m talking about old school police work. Getting on the phone and calling other departments.”
My brows went up. I glanced at Leo, back at the reporter, and seized the opening. “We can certainly do that, but, as you can imagine, with the number of police agencies in this country it would be overwhelming.” I baited the hook. “If we only had additional resources…”
“My crew and I could assist.”
I suppressed a smile and put on my serious cop face. “What do you have in mind?”
“Since your department has let the case go cold, we could make calls, try and tie this unusual knot to other suspects.”
I looked at Leo again and put on an Oscar-worthy performance. “Wow, that’s a wonderful offer.” I met Woods’ eyes again. “It might be very helpful.”
We spent another hour with the reporter and her crew. As they were packing up to leave, Selfie came over to me. “What was all that about letting the reporter call other police departments? Isn’t that unusual?”
I smiled. “It’s a technique that we only use in certain cases. It’s called hooking the shark.” I took a moment, explaining what was happening.
Late in the day, Chief East came by the house. He met with the reporter in the front yard and gave her some sound bites about the case. Woods made statements about her assisting us with trying to tie the diamond knot to other, similar crimes. East glanced over at me and Leo and said, “I’m sure the detectives could use any assistance you might offer.”
When his interview was over, the chief called me and Leo over. “What the he
ll is this nonsense about the reporter actively working the investigation with you?”
I downplayed what happened. “She just volunteered to make some calls to other police agencies. You wanted her involved it this, and it seemed like a good way to humor her.”
East’s big chest rose and fell. “Just be sure you don’t compromise this investigation by allowing a civilian to insert herself into police matters.”
I smiled and pushed down my anger. “Gosh, that’s the last thing we would want to do.” I looked at Leo. “Imagine, us letting a civilian insert herself into a police investigation?”
East gave me a moose death-stare and stomped off.
After Woods and her crew were also gone, and Leo and the others were packing up, Bernie and I took a moment and again walked through the house. We then went into the back yard. While the Potters’ house was in an exclusive area of the Hollywood Hills, it sat lower than many of the surrounding homes. It was dusk, and I could see the lights coming on in the houses on the hill above us.
I let Bernie off his leash for a couple of minutes. He spent the time traipsing through a flower bed. Leo came out of the house with Selfie and Molly and said, “I guess we’re about ready to go.” He saw me looking at the hillside. “Everything okay?”
I motioned to the lights above us. “I was just wondering, with all the neighbors, do you think someone might have seen something the night the Potters were killed?”
“The original investigators canvassed the neighborhood,” Selfie said.
“I think they just went up and down the street the house is on,” Molly said. “If you’re talking about the homes up on the hill, I don’t think they were part of that process.”
I looked at Leo. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s worth a shot, but I also think it’s going to take a lot of manpower.”
I chuckled. “I suppose we could ask Woods to help out, but she’s busy with other police business, trying to track down a sailor with a knife tied around his neck.” I glanced at the hillside again and rubbed my jaw before turning back to Selfie and Molly. “Why don’t we start with running the neighborhood through the criminal databases, maybe even the 290 registrants.”
Section 290 of the California Penal Code required sex offenders to register their address with the local police jurisdiction. While our crime didn’t involve a sex offense, I knew those offenders often perpetrated other crimes.
“Consider it done,” Selfie said. “Molly and I can get on it first thing in the morning.”
As we walked to the car, I said to Leo, “Still nothing on Marsh?”
He shook his head. “Maybe somebody got cold feet.”
I looked at him. “Or, maybe Henry Montreal has already been contacted and is running his own game.”
TWENTY-SIX
“If you don’t participate in the fashion show, dozens of needy children will suffer,” Nana said, “including that girl whose parents were murdered that you’re trying to help out.”
I’d made the mistake of agreeing to meet Natalie and Mo for dinner. Nana had somehow found out about it and had decided to tag along. Her entourage, consisting of Tugboat, Fly, and a handful of other assorted gigolos, I mean friends, were at a table across the room. I’d purposely chosen a table away from the motley crew, not wanting them eavesdropping on our conversation.
“I’m not wearing some weird outfit,” I said to her. I remembered that a few months back I’d done a musical performance for charity with Nana and my friends as the Spice Girls. It had rained during the outdoor show and my dress had become semi-transparent. “Or worse, something that I later realize is see-through.”
“This is totally legit,” Nana said. “Besides, what are you worried about? You don’t have that much to show off anyway.”
I’d ordered a glass of wine, and her comments called for a big sip of it. Mo tried to smooth my ruffled feathers, telling me, “You’re forgetting. You get to pick out your own outfit for the show.”
Natalie, who had ordered something called a Bohemian Blast, chimed in, “Unless you want me to help you pick out somethin’. I got me a pretty good sense of style.”
Yes, when it comes to something a streetwalker would wear.
I finally caved into their pressure. “Okay, I’ll do it for Samantha Potter, as long as you promise not to bring it up again until the performance.”
Nana opened her big mouth, clicking her oversized dentures against her glass of Long Island Iced Tea. After she’d taken a big gulp and made a smacking sound, she smiled and said, “Mum’s the word, until…” Her gray eyes grew larger. “We zom…”
“Enough,” Mo said, scolding her before she could finish. She looked at me. “The topic is closed to further discussion.”
Natalie stifled a giggle with another swig of her Blast. I was about to ask them what was going on when Mo changed the subject. “I heard that Marsh case of yours is gettin’ crazier by the day. Why do you suppose the kidnappers offed the hubby?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just concerned about his wife and kids.”
“You ask me, they sent another message,” Natalie said. “You keep whacking people ’til you get the big bucks.”
I took another sip of wine and kept quiet, not wanting to get into the specifics of the case.
“I could look into things for you,” Nana said. Her gaze had wandered over to her entourage. The group was loud and unruly, having already ordered a couple of rounds of drinks. She looked back at me. “I used to live in Hancock Park years ago when my husband was still alive. I could knock on some doors, ask the neighbors what they saw.”
“Already been done.” I thought about the elderly neighbor who had witnessed the white van in the Marshes’ driveway. We still needed to go back to her about whether she’d seen Vince Marsh with the victim or anything else that looked suspicious.
“You cops don’t know how to work people,” Nana said. “Me and my posse can get the goods on that no good cheater.”
I locked eyes with her. “I’m only going to say this once. Stay out of my case.”
Nana did another denture click and downed the rest of her drink. “Somebody’s a little touchy.” She turned to Natalie and Mo. “If you’ve got a few minutes, I need your help with a personal issue.”
Mo rolled her big eyes, which tonight were beneath a purple wig. “I ain’t givin’ you no sex pointers, if that’s what you got in mind.”
“Maybe she needs some of those meds for painful intercourse,” Natalie chimed in. “I heard that for a woman your age, it’s like doin’ the dirty deed with a rusty pipe.”
I’d taken a drink of my wine and almost spit it out when I laughed. I was feeling the effects of the alcohol and said to her, “Maybe Nana needs to make a stop at Jiffy Lube.”
Nana shot daggers at us. “This has nothing to do with sex…” She paused and did what I think was meant to be a seductive eye roll. “…probably.”
Mo sighed. “Okay, mama big bucks, let’s hear it.”
Nana ordered another drink before turning to her entourage. She snapped her fingers and Tugboat came over to her, carrying a bucket.
“You’re not gonna toss your cookies, are you?” Natalie asked. “’Cause if you are, you and the goon squad need to take it outside.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nana said, taking the bucket from Tugboat. Her musclebound companion scurried off as she set the container on the table. She motioned to the vessel. “This is my bucket list.”
Mo eyeballed her, then the bucket. “I’m ’fraid to even think ’bout what might be in there.”
“Probably some crazy stuff like skydiving in the nude,” Natalie said.
“I’ve already done that,” Nana told her. She looked at me. “Even though you’re not very adventurous and will probably pick something out of the bucket about going to the library, I’m willing to let you go first.”
I released a breath, wondering what I was getting into. I then realized this was Nana�
��s bucket list, not mine. “Why not?” I said, reaching into the bucket. I hesitated, moving my hand back. “Promise me there’s nothing in there that’s going to bite me.”
“It’s perfectly safe, trust me.”
“Famous last words,” I said, reaching back into the bucket. I pulled out a slip of paper and held it up. “Do you want me to read it?”
“Go ahead,” Nana said. “But it better be good.”
I unfolded the paper and read it aloud. “Join your local ballet league and become a prima ballerina.” I broke into a fit of laughter as I looked at my friends. Natalie and Mo joined in the amusement at Nana’s expense.
“I can see Nana now, wearing one of them tutus and spinnin’ round like a drunken sailor,” Mo said, wiping tears off her cheeks.
Nana scowled at me. “I should have known you’d pick something stupid.”
“I wanna go next,” Natalie said. She looked at our elderly companion. “Unless you wanna take a couple of minutes, twirl around, and do a performance of Swan Lake.”
Nana failed to see the humor in her comment. “Go ahead. The last thing I’m interested in is doing some idiotic dance.”
Natalie reached into the bucket and read the next offering to us. “Prove that you’ve still got some balls and run with the bulls.”
That called for another round of laughter. When it was over, Nana said, “I don’t got any balls.” She looked over at her companions and said, “Check me on that.” She turned back to us and scoffed. “Run with the bulls. So far, this is a bunch of bullshit.”
“Let me give it a go,” Mo said. “Maybe I’ll find something that suits you…” She chortled, adding. “Like having a sex marathon.”
Nana apparently also failed to see the humor in her comment. “Just get this over with, so I can go clubbing with my friends.”
Mo pulled out a slip of paper, cleared her throat, and said, “Throw a party that people will still be talking about after you’re dead.”
