by M. Z. Kelly
Natalie looked at Nana. “If you’re gonna party, you’d better hurry. At your age, you probably only got a couple of weeks before you go tits up.”
There was silence as we all looked at Nana. Her face suddenly lit up like she’d been plugged into a wall outlet. “That’s it. I’ll throw the biggest party Hollywood has ever seen.”
“Oh, God,” I said, remembering some of Nana’s past get-togethers. “You’ve got a lot of work to do if you’re going to top some of your previous events.”
Nana snapped her fingers several times. Her posse all stood up at the same time, like a bunch of puppets on a string. She stood and called over to them, “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of planning to do.”
When they were gone, I set the bucket on the floor and looked at Natalie and Mo. “I don’t know what she has in mind, all I do know is that I want to be in the next state when it happens.”
“I’ll bet it’ll end up as some kinda bloody orgy,” Natalie said. “Nana and about a thousand of her closest friends, all rollin’ ’round together.”
Mo pursed her lips together and blew out a blast of air. “I seen a lot of ugly in my life, but what you’re suggesting, baby sis, lowers the bar to a whole other level.”
We went on a few minutes longer, speculating that Nana’s blow-out party might involve everything from sex to drugs—Lipitor—to rock and roll. Mo then grew serious, changing the subject and telling me what she and Natalie had found out about the actress, Jean Winslow.
“We done us a lot of research on Hollywood’s sweetheart. Her mama and her brother went away right after Jean did.”
“Went away, as in…”
“They were whacked,” Natalie said. “’Course we can’t prove it, but Mama ended up being run down by a car and baby bro also drank some Kool-Aid.”
“What do you know about the details of their deaths?”
“Jean’s mama got hit by a hit and run driver when she got off work one night,” Mo said.
“And her brother OD’d, probably with somebody’s help, just like his sister,” Natalie added.
I swirled the last of the wine in my glass. “Maybe it was an actual suicide.”
“That’s just the way things were made to look,” Mo said, shaking her head at me. She looked at Natalie with a serious expression. “We know better.”
Natalie’s pretty features hardened. “The more we look into this Revelation bunch, the more we’re convinced they’re into some really bad stuff. People aren’t just killed, they go away and no one seems to be the wiser.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine. What she had described as people going away might have begun with the deaths of Jean Winslow and my love-dad, and, if what they thought was true, had continued unabated.
I set my drink aside, my gaze moving between them. “We don’t know, for a fact, that the Revelation was involved in what happened, but I’m going to talk to the department about all this in the next day or two. In the meantime, I want you both to pretend that the Revelation never existed. If this group is as dangerous as you think, and they get any hint that you’re looking into their activities, no one at this table is safe.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Bernie and I arrived at the station early the next morning because Oz had called a meeting of everyone working the Marsh case. I put my purse in my desk and walked with Leo to the lieutenant’s office.
“Any word on what gives?” I asked.
Leo glanced at me. “Not sure. All I know is that Ozzie’s under a lot of pressure. I’ve got a feeling if something doesn’t break soon, he will.”
“I worry about him. He’s not getting any younger.”
We turned the corner and saw Mel, Darby, and our civilian employees all heading to the bat cave. “Our LT is as tough as they come,” Leo said. “He’ll probably outlive us both.”
After Bernie got some Oz love, the lieutenant told us what was on his mind. “The department, in its infinite wisdom, is setting up a tip line. MRS is making the announcement to the press this morning. I don’t have to tell you what this means for all of us.”
Chief East had recently appointed Commander Sherry Miles to the Media Relations Section. I’d heard through the grapevine she was trying to make a name for herself.
“It means,” Darby said, “we’re all going to be spending our time chasing down worthless leads.”
“It’s the last thing we need,” Mel added.
Oz reminded me of a father, or maybe a grandfather, patiently listening to a couple of whiny children. “I agree, but as a famous somebody once said, it is what it is.” He looked at Selfie and Molly. “I want you both to do triage on the calls, try and run interference on the crackpots and little old ladies who think the Marsh family is living next door. I’ll have Horton and Braden take a look at what seems legit, see if it merits follow-up.”
Woody Horton and Harry Braden were detectives also assigned to Section One. They had their own cases to work, and I knew that being pulled into our investigation was the last thing they needed.
Oz continued, “As you can all imagine, there’s a lot of pressure from downtown for us to make something happen. The national media services have picked up on the case and the street in front of the Montreal estate is filling up with satellite vans.”
Selfie spoke up. “Why do you think the kidnappers haven’t followed up on their phone call to Henry Montreal? The family’s been missing for several days.”
“You ever heard the phrase, ‘make ’em wait for it’?” Darby asked. He didn’t wait for the lieutenant to answer and went on. “The longer this goes on, the more power it gives those who took the family. It also gives them more leverage for the ransom demand.”
“Maybe that’s true,” Oz said, looking at Selfie. “But, for now, we have no way of knowing what’s in the kidnappers’ minds. We just move ahead and work this like any other case, despite the pressure.”
“What about the feds?” Leo asked. “I’ve heard some rumors they could be called in.”
Kidnapping had been made a federal crime in the 1930s after Charles Lindberg’s young son had been kidnapped and held for ransom. Despite meeting the ransom demands, the baby of the first man to ever make a transatlantic flight was found dead six weeks later. The national outcry had prompted congress to ensure the FBI became involved in kidnapping cases.
“The department’s been in touch with the feds. They’re trying to pull a team together, but for now it’s still ours. We work the streets, tracking down any lead that looks legit.”
“Speaking of that,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about the elderly woman who saw the van in the Marshes’ driveway the night of the murder.” I looked at Darby and Mel. “It might be worth following up with her now that we know Vince and his maid were involved.”
“We can go over there this morning,” Darby offered. “It beats working a phone tree.”
“Another knock-and-talk on all the neighbors with pictures of Marsh and the maid might also be worthwhile,” Oz said.
I happened to think about the security video from the Windward Hotel where Vince Marsh had been staying. I’d previously asked Selfie and Molly to review the video and asked them what they’d found.
“Nothing stood out,” Selfie said. “Of course, that doesn’t mean Marsh’s killer isn’t in the video, since we don’t know who might be involved.”
After the lieutenant listened to Darby telling everyone that looking at the video was a waste of time, he went on for a few minutes about the case, asking us to be diligent. He then released Darby and Mel to head over to Hancock Park.
After they were gone, Oz brought up the Potter case. “The chief wasn’t happy about the way things went with the press yesterday.” I started to defend myself when he held up a hand. “No need to explain. I know how things get twisted.” He took a sip of his coffee and went on. “East apparently has some bright idea that the way the victims were tied might be linked to other cases.” I glanced at Leo, suppressing a smile as
the lieutenant went on, “He’s even going to let that reporter make some calls to other jurisdictions, looking for anything similar.”
“Maybe it will keep her out of our hair,” I said, giving nothing up.
“I’m afraid not. She’s also been in contact with the victims’ daughter and her guardians. Her aunt’s agreed to let the girl be interviewed for the TV show.”
My voice pitched higher. “She’s a minor and…”
“I know, but the aunt has custody and has already agreed to let her talk to the girl. The interview is supposed to happen at their home, tomorrow. I’m just giving you a heads up so you can be sure to be there.”
“Goddamnit,” I said, looking at Leo.
“No matter how you frame it,” my partner said, looking at the lieutenant. “It’s just wrong.”
Oz shrugged. “I agree, but there are a lot of things that are wrong in this world. We just add it to the list, try and do damage control the best we can, and move on.”
“Molly and I turned up something on the Potters that we think is worth taking a look at,” Selfie said. She looked at her counterpart.
“I talked to Maggie Potter’s best friend, Anna Moss, last night,” Molly told us. “I’d left a message with her earlier and she called back after we left the Potters’ house. She said that Maggie was pretty unhappy in her marriage. She wasn’t exactly sure why, but thought it had something to do with her husband working late a lot.”
“Did she think he was having an affair?” I asked.
“She didn’t have any knowledge of that, but there was something definitely going south in their marriage. She also said there were some financial problems.”
“We know they were balancing a lot of debt, just like the Marshes,” Selfie said. “Maybe these two cases are paralleling one another.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe there’s something more.” I glanced at Leo. “Let’s try and talk to Sam and her aunt alone after Shelia Woods gets done with her, if there’s anything left.”
Leo was agreeing to what I suggested when Oz’s phone rang. I could tell the call was about the Marsh case even before it ended. “That was Nadine McKee,” Oz said. “Something’s breaking at Henry Montreal’s house. You both need to get over there now.”
***
Leo and I made the drive to Trousdale Estates in under twenty minutes. Mel and Darby pulled into the Montreals’ driveway right behind us. When we got to the front door, a servant answered and said there was something happening in the back yard. We found Henry and Georgette on a marble portico that overlooked a swimming pool and lush gardens.
“The thing landed over there,” Henry said, pointing in the direction of the gardens. “I got a call to come out here about a half hour ago.”
Georgette was standing next to her husband. “I don’t understand what’s happening. What do you think it means?”
I didn’t respond, instead turning and seeing that Nadine McKee had arrived. She joined us on the porch as we all looked in the direction Henry had pointed out.
“The call came through on the same business line as before,” Nadine said. “The caller said a package was being delivered.”
The delivery method chosen by the kidnappers was, to my knowledge, a first. A small drone, no bigger than one of those toys I’d seen in electronics stores, had landed near a water fountain, between the pool and gardens. From where we stood, it looked like a small cardboard box was attached to it.
“Maybe Amazon is making its first drone delivery,” Darby said. His effort to make light of what was happening was lost on everyone.
“I’m getting the box off the damn thing,” Henry said, moving off the porch.
McKee spoke up. “We have no way of knowing what’s in it.” She looked at me. “We should probably have the bomb squad clear it.”
What she’d suggested was the correct protocol, but the wealthy financier was having none of it. “I’m not waiting around for some goddamned robot.” He ignored her, still moving toward the drone.
I glanced at Leo and we followed behind. As we got closer to the drone, we saw that the box it carried was no more than six inches deep and wide. Henry unhooked it from a tether and brought it back over to the portico.
Nadine McKee was again cautioning him to be careful as he opened the box. Henry gasped and took a step back. He then quickly ushered his wife away.
Georgette was crying, demanding to know what was inside the box, as her husband took her inside the house. The rest of us took the opportunity to look inside the container. We saw there were two items: a severed finger with a ring on it, and a cell phone. The phone was ringing as Henry returned from the house.
“I want to know my daughter’s alive,” he bellowed as he answered the phone. “If she dies, you die. It’s just a matter of time until I find you.”
Henry had the presence of mind to put the phone on speaker as he waited for a response. After a moment we heard the now familiar electronically altered man’s voice on the line. “You are in no position to make demands. I control this situation.”
Henry wasn’t deterred. As he spoke, I again realized this was a man who was used to being in control, no matter what the situation. “You want my cooperation, you put my daughter on the line. It’s non-negotiable.”
There was no response. I thought maybe the caller had hung up. We heard a jostling, sound, a muffled voice in the background. A moment later, I knew we were hearing the high-pitched frantic voice of Allison Marsh. “Daddy, I need help! They’ve got the children and…”
Her voice became a scream that abruptly ended. We heard nothing but silence. Henry’s face flushed with anger as he screamed into the phone, “You touch her again and…”
“Enough,” the altered voice said. He waited a beat, at the same time I touched Henry’s arm and shook my head, a signal for him to calm down. We heard the voice again. “I want five million, all cash, in small, unmarked bills. I’ll call back with directions in three hours. And, whatever you do, don’t call the authorities.”
“I can’t get that kind of money together on short notice,” Henry said. I knew it was a lie and apparently the kidnapper did too.
“Then get that kind of money. If you aren’t prepared to meet my demands, I’ll start with the grandchildren. Bobby dies first, then the girl.” The line clicked dead.
“Son of a bitch.” Henry spat out the words as he tossed the phone onto the table.
I looked at him. “Do you have the money?” He took a breath and nodded. I spoke evenly, trying to defuse some of his anger. “Then we sit tight and wait for the callback.”
“And then what?” he growled.
“We have teams ready to follow you. We take down this guy and get your daughter and her kids back today.”
Nadine McKee had been on the phone while the call had come in. “The phone’s a burner. It pinged to a tower near downtown Los Angeles, but it’s been turned off. We’ve got no way to track it.”
Montreal brushed a hand through his thinning hair and exhaled. “I’d better go check on Georgette.” He looked at the box. “And you’d better do something with that. The ring belongs to my daughter. I had to give her the money so her asshole husband could afford it.”
When he was gone, I looked at Leo and said, “I get the feeling none of this is going to be easy.”
Leo held on my eyes. “We’re dealing with money and power, and three lives are hanging in the balance. Buckle-up, it’s going to be a wild ride.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
An hour after the ransom demand had been made, while the cops were making plans about how to deal with the kidnappers, Henry Montreal met a business associate at his front door. He counted the money before he let his employee leave. It was all there. Five million in unmarked bills.
He hoisted the duffle bag up and took it into his home office. Georgette had taken something for her nerves, and he was grateful that he had some time alone to put his plan into place. He pulled a TracFone out of his bottom des
k drawer and in a moment had Jack Dawes on the line.
Henry and the man he affectionately referred to as The Enforcer went back to the old days in Chicago. Back then, Dawes was in control of several blocks on the south side. It was his territory, and anyone who crossed him paid the price, sometimes the ultimate price.
“I’m waiting on a call,” Henry told Dawes after he got him on the line. “It should come in the next couple of hours. Are you ready?”
His old friend’s voice was deep and familiar. “Of course. This play is ours.”
Dawes was a big man, someone who instantly took control in any situation through intimidation and force. It left no doubt in Henry’s mind that The Enforcer would take care of business.
“My guess is the guy’s going to send me around town for a couple of hours before the drop is made. There’s also the cop problem. I’m sure they’re going to want to put some kind of tracking device on the bag or on me.”
“Give it a half hour, then toss the tracker out the window. When it’s over, you can tell them it was one of their demands and you had no choice.”
Henry agreed to what he proposed and said, “Let’s go over what you have in mind after I make the final drop.”
“You back off and I move in. I’ll be close by, but lost in the crowd. I take down the asshole, and you get your family and your money back. No fuss, no muss.”
“What if the drop’s in a location where there’s no one around?”
“You forget, I’ve had a lot of practice at slipping up on people from out of nowhere. Stop worrying.”
Henry knew what he’d said was the truth. He’d seen The Enforcer appear out of the darkness like a ghost and take control in some harrowing situations. “Just be sure you don’t harm the bastard until I get Allison and the kids back. If anything happens to them, Georgette will never let me forget it.”
“Relax. Nothing’s going to happen, other than you getting your family back at no cost to you, except for my fee.”
He decided that two hundred grand was a small price to pay for The Enforcer’s services. “I’m counting on it.”
