by M. Z. Kelly
“Glad you could make it,” Mo said, picking up the slingshot and pretending she was shooting something at me.
“What is that?” I asked, flinching, and then taking a seat at the table.
“It’s for hard Jell-O shots,” Natalie said. “You load up your favorite drink, freeze ’em, then shoot the shots at your friends.” She looked at Mo. “Why don’t you see what Izzy’s got in the fridge out back, we can give it a go.”
“No, thanks. Remember, I’m in recovery from the M&M’s.”
Natalie reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle. “I got me some of the Queen’s tonic, guaranteed to clear out the cobwebs and maybe even your bowels.”
I declined the tonic as Mo explained why they’d wanted me to stop by. “Baby sis and me have been doing some more research on your love-dad and that Malone guy…”
“I told you to let it rest until I talk to my bosses.”
Mo scratched the night’s choice of an orange wig. “We are lettin’ it rest, but that doesn’t mean we gotta sit around like a couple of monkeys with our hands over our eyes and ears.”
Natalie mugged it up, putting her hands over her eyes, then her ears. It all seemed fitting given the day’s battle with the Planet of the Apes.
I sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
Mo rolled her eyes and looked at Natalie. “Sometimes, I just don’t feel appreciated.”
Natalie was now working the mini-guillotine and cut an apple in half. She looked at me. “Maybe Izzy could cut your head off for the grand opening and put you out of your misery. And, by the way, you’re invited to the festivities.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. I looked back at Mo, waiting.
After a shake of her head, she said, “Baby sis and me talked to Mary Jane Collins. She’s the Realtor we met a few months back when that former rapper-turned-realtor went belly up in his swimming pool.”
I remembered the case, maybe because my partner at the time, Harvey Gluck, was new to homicide and had thrown up at the crime scene. The last I’d heard, Upchuck Gluck was still working cases and trying to settle his stomach.
“Go on,” I said.
“Mary Jane told us the house Jean Winslow owned back when she supposedly committed suicide just went up for sale. She said it’s been empty for years ’cause the heir didn’t want to sell it till now. We thought maybe the three of us could go by and take a look.”
“It’s in the hills, not too far from Nana’s estate,” Natalie added. “By the way, the old girl’s still working on that blow-out party she mentioned. I’m still takin’ bets on it being one big orgy, with naked people rollin’ around and grabbing each other.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“What do you think?” Mo said, going back to the topic at hand. “Baby sis and me wanna make an appointment to look at Winslow’s house.”
“I’m not sure that just looking at her house is going to tell us anything.”
Mo’s brow looked like an accordion. “You mean you never heard the expression ’bout walls talking?”
“What do we got to lose?” Natalie asked. “It’s not like we’re gettin’ anywhere just sittin’ ’round choppin’ apples in half.” As if on cue, she brought the guillotine down again and started screaming. She grabbed her hand and blood spurted across the table.
“Are you okay…”
After a minute of her telling us she thought she’d chopped her finger off, I was about to call 911 when she started laughing and showed me what was in her hand. “It’s called a Blood Bath. You just squeeze it and it looks like you cut a bloody artery.”
My head was pounding again and I was in no mood for her histrionics. I said to Mo, “I’ll check on my work schedule and let you know about seeing Winslow’s house.”
“Speaking of severed fingers,” Mo said. “Anything new on the kidnapping case?”
“Nothing, and I’m worried about the family.”
“Word on the streets is that it might be an inside job.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Natalie mopped up the table and explained Mo’s reference. “Our boss, Jimmy, thinks a PI might be involved, somebody who was working with the husband before he turned on him.”
They now had my interest. “Did Jimmy have any idea who this PI is?”
Mo shook her orange head and answered, “No, but he heard the guy is bad news. That means that Marsh woman and her kids could end up roadkill.”
FORTY-FOUR
Bernie and I went home after leaving Izzy’s magic store. We had something to eat and went straight to bed. The simian band that had been playing in my head all day mercifully broke up and I slept like a baby, probably because of total exhaustion.
I was at the station, getting Bernie out of my car the next morning, when Leo met up with us in the parking lot. “Ozzie just headed downtown and wants us to follow. It sounds like they want to meet about your family situation.”
“Don’t tell me they’ve finally made a decision about opening the case.”
Leo reached down, giving Bernie some love. “I guess we’ll find out. I’d like to tag along if it’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The traffic heading into downtown Los Angeles was heavy. As he drove, Leo mentioned that he’d talked to Nadine McKee, who had told him all was quiet on the Montreal phones, except for Henry making some kind of mega real estate deal.
“Maybe he’s investing the five million he kept from the last ransom drop in his deal.”
Leo glanced at me. “I hope not. I have a feeling he’s going to need every cent of it before things are over.”
“Makes me wonder how Allison and her kids are holding up.”
“Since she survived being raised by her father, Allison’s got to be a pretty tough girl. We just have to hope for the best.”
As we approached downtown, I told him that Natalie and Mo wanted to take a look at the house Jean Winslow once owned. “I don’t know what they expect to find there, but I humored them and agreed to go along.”
Leo beamed a smile in my direction. “Maybe they think there are some bodies buried in the back yard.”
“Knowing my friends, that wouldn’t surprise me.”
We spent another half hour crawling through traffic before parking at the PAB and making our way to a sixth floor conference room. When we arrived we found the lieutenant and Captain Dembowski were already there, along with Commander Sherry Miles and Media Relation’s new assistant, Mel Peters.
“Nice to see you again,” the commander said, standing and taking my hand. Peters was next to her and made a point of doing the same, even though it seemed awkward and stilted, given our recent working relationship.
As the newly appointed head of media relations, I knew that Sherry Miles reported directly to Chief East. She was one of those larger than life figures, who, despite being heavyset, exuded power and confidence. I respected her, only because she was a woman who had managed to hold her own in LAPD’s shark-infested waters.
I returned their greetings and introduced Leo, who hadn’t met the commander before. I settled Bernie in a corner before we all took seats at the table. After some small talk, Miles asked me to go over my conversations with Collin Russell as they related to Jean Winslow and the death of the man who raised me. The commander was already familiar with my family situation, and the facts related to both the death of my birth mother and my love-dad at the hands of Ryan Cooper. We’d discussed what happened in detail back when Cooper had been stalking me. At that time, Miles had made the decision to send me out of state to work with the FBI to get me out of the line of fire.
I took the next half hour, summarizing everything, including how Collin Russell had given me the letters written by my birth mother, what she’d said about her belief that the deaths of Jean Winslow and my love-dad were linked, and how my father had worked part-time at the studios and had met Jean Winslow there. I ended by telling her what I knew about K
ellen Malone.
“From what I’ve been able to find out,” I told Miles, “Malone’s been a power player in Hollywood for years. He and Donald Regis, the former head of Wallace Studios, were rivals at one time, apparently vying for the attention of Winslow. His father told me that Malone’s involved in the Revelation.”
Maybe it was my imagination, but Miles seemed to visibly react when I mentioned Malone’s name in connection with the secret society. She shifted in her chair and drew in a breath.
When I was finished, she drummed a pencil on the table and asked, “Is there anything else you’ve learned about this group Malone’s supposedly involved in?”
“Just that they’re secret and powerful. They’ll apparently stop at nothing to have their way. There have been rumors they’ve controlled much of what goes on with the studios in Hollywood for years.”
Miles drew in another breath and released it slowly, maybe gathering her thoughts. I glanced at Oz. The lieutenant’s usually pleasant expression seemed subdued, something that told me he already knew what the commander was going to say.
“As you probably know,” Miles began, “the department looked into this group several years ago. Nothing conclusive about them being involved in anything illegal was ever established. While the information supplied by Collin Russell is interesting, much of it sounds like conjecture and speculation. I’m afraid there just isn’t enough to warrant a formal investigation into the death of Ms. Winslow. As for the man who raised you, we’ve already established that Ryan Cooper was responsible for his murder.”
“I concur,” Mel Peters said, beaming a smile at her new boss. “There’s nothing substantive about what Detective Sexton has uncovered. Most of it sounds like rumor, not unlike something you’d find in the tabloids.”
I felt heat spreading up my chest and across my cheeks. My gaze bounced between both women as I spoke. “That’s because it would require that someone investigate the leads I’ve uncovered to find something substantive.” My eyes narrowed on Peters. “And, as for your comment about tabloids, I believe what you said is both disrespectful and dismissive.”
Peters tried to defend her comments, but Leo spoke up, supporting me and telling them about his relationship with my love-dad. “John Sexton and I were friends back when I first joined the department. I remember him working at the studios and saying something about a lot of bad stuff going on there. None of it added up for me until Jean Winslow ended up dead. A few days later, the same thing happened to John. I think there’s a lot more that went on than we know about that merits investigation.”
Oz chimed in, “I can vouch for what Detective Kingsley just said. I also knew John and, if you ask me, both his death and Winslow’s deserves another look.”
Peters apparently still felt the need to defend herself. “As we already said, this is all speculative. We’ve all worked cases where we had a feeling there was something more going on, but the facts just don’t support wasting the manpower to dig into this any deeper.” She met my eyes. “Why can’t you let this go?”
It took all my will power to not come across the table and clock her. I raised my voice and my body shook as I said, “Because John Sexton raised me as a father…because a beautiful actress was senselessly murdered...because her death was covered up…because the man who raised me was also murdered…because he was also a cop…because he deserves that the truth be known...because…”
The commander interrupted, probably sensing I was losing control “Okay, I think we understand. This is obviously very personal and emotional for you. I respect that.” She took a breath before adding, “We’ve all lost someone that we were close to at one time and realize how difficult that can be.” Her gaze fixed on her employee, until Peters lowered her eyes and nodded. Miles looked back at me. “Let me talk to the chief before a final decision is made. The department wants to do the right thing by both you and the other parties.”
The meeting went on for another twenty minutes with lots of small talk and platitudes on the commander’s part. I knew it was all for show and that East had probably already bought into the department not proceeding with the investigation. A wave of depression enveloped me as we said our goodbyes.
I made my feelings known to Oz and Leo when we were downstairs, heading toward the parking garage. “Just so you both know, I won’t give up on this. I’ll never give up until all the facts behind Winslow’s and my father’s deaths are out in the open.” We stopped at a flowerbed, where I let Bernie take a stroll and I tried to control my emotions.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less of you,” Oz said. “And, while I might not be able to authorize you doing anything on the department’s time, as I’ve told you before, what you do on your own time is your own business.”
Leo took a step closer to me and touched my arm. “I’m also here for you, Sissy. I’m willing to work on this on my own time, do whatever it takes. Someone has to speak for John, and I don’t know anyone better than the two of us.” He looked at Oz. “Make that the three of us.”
I exhaled, feeling like the weight of the department’s fancy new administration building was weighing on my shoulders, but at the same time was thankful for their support. “I appreciate you both. Thanks for your understanding and friendship.” My eyes narrowed on Leo. “Sissy?”
He shrugged. “Something about you reminds me of my little sis. She’s gone now, but she was a fighter, just like you.”
FORTY-FIVE
Since we were in downtown Los Angeles, I had Leo drop Bernie and me off at the coroner’s office, where I met Brie. We took a walk up the street to a nearby restaurant for lunch. As we walked, my friend seemed subdued. I knew that she’d recently had a post-surgical follow-up for her cancer, but decided to wait until she was ready to talk about the findings.
After ordering, we chatted about my meeting with Commander Miles. I told her about my anger and frustration, adding, “I know they’re going to say there’s no basis to further investigate what happened. It’s the wrong decision and it’s not going to stop me from looking into things on my own.”
“I think your department is taking the easy way out. An investigation into Jean Winslow’s death would be front page news everywhere, and I’m sure they want to avoid that.”
“Especially when you throw in the possibility of a secret cult being involved.” I went on for a moment, telling her about Natalie and Mo wanting to go to Winslow’s house. “If we find any bodies buried in the back yard, you’ll be the first to know.”
She chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”
We then chatted about the Marsh case for a couple of minutes. I mentioned there was nothing new since the failed ransom drop, before adding, “It’s a matter of time until the kidnappers surface again. I hope Allison’s father is willing to cooperate this time.”
“I’ve been thinking about the husband’s death. Vincent Marsh was killed by a contact wound at close range. I think his death was personal.”
I sipped my iced tea, then said, “Do you think a woman could have done it, someone he was involved with?”
“It’s possible. I understand he was a player.”
I nodded. “I think he was involved with lots of women, besides the maid.”
“Do you think his wife knew he was cheating?”
Our sandwiches arrived and I waited until the server was gone before answering. “Allison must have had suspicions he wasn’t faithful.” I picked up my sandwich, thinking about my ex. “I’m somewhat of an expert on the subject.”
Brie smiled. “Me, too.”
I remembered that Brie’s ex had cheated on her just before she’d been diagnosed. I took a breath, released it slowly, and asked the question I was dreading hearing an answer to. “So, how did the follow-up tests go?”
My friend brushed a hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. Tears trickled down her face. I reached over and touched her hand, softly saying, “Sweetheart.”
I held her hand for a couple of minutes
until she was able to talk. When she finally spoke, her words hit me like I’d taken a blow to the gut. “I have something called metastatic breast cancer.”
I had no idea exactly what that meant, and waited for her to go on. The server appeared while I held Brie’s hand. She saw what was happening and scurried off without saying anything.
Brie managed to continue, “Metastatic means that the cancer has spread to other places in my body.” She found a breath, barely controlling her emotions. “It’s in my bones and spine. There’s no cure for it. Forty thousand people a year die from the disease.”
I blinked several times, as tears gushed from my own eyes. I tried to compose my thoughts, but my words came out as a sob. After several starts and stops, I finally managed to say, “Wha…what happens now?”
Brie smiled, but it wasn’t really a smile. It was a melancholy expression, one that was full of acceptance and fear, but also determination. “I will battle this disease for all the days I have left on this planet. It will be with me when I hold my beautiful daughter in my arms. It will be my companion when I accept the blessings of friendship. And, it will be with me when I draw my last breath.” She blinked back her tears. “Despite that, I won’t give up…” The stream of tears broke through. “…because of Lily.”
I sucked in a watery breath and found my voice. “What can I do to help?”
She squeezed my hand. “I’m not sure you can do anything, but be the best friend anyone could ask for, just like you’ve always been.”
We spent the next half hour as Brie continued to unburden herself, telling me about her deepest fears. She then said, “There is one thing you can do for me.”
“Just name it.”
“It’s Lily…” There were more tears, some heavy breaths. She went on, “I want you to be her godmother. If you can be there for her when…” She suppressed a sob. “…if…I’m not around, I would be eternally grateful.”
