by M. Z. Kelly
Molly Wingate, our other crime analyst, took a seat next to Jenny. Molly was the single mother of two young children, someone who in a short period of time had demonstrated a great work ethic and become my friend.
Darby’s muddy eyes found me while we waited for Olivia to finish a phone call. “I heard that crazy Harlee woman paid you a visit yesterday.”
I knew word had gotten around the station. “Unfortunately.”
“Rumor has it she said she’s related to you and that the world’s most wanted terrorist could be your father.”
Woody spoke up, levelling his blue eyes on Darby. “Maybe you should mind your own business and not worry about rumors.”
Darby sneered at him. “I thought you and Braden were working her dead father’s case. Guess you missed something—a big something.”
Harry Braden was Woody’s former partner. As far as I knew, he was still assigned the investigation into my adoptive father’s murder, but I didn’t think the case was actively being worked.
“Let it go,” Leo said, his wide forehead becoming pinched. “We need to worry about our own case.”
Darby now met Leo’s dark eyes. “You’re beginning to sound like your partner, and...” He stopped talking, seeing Olivia entering the room.
Our lieutenant’s almond eyes fixed on Darby. “What’s going on?”
The little detective shrugged. “Just small talk.”
Her eyes held on him for a long moment, a silent message that she was aware of his tendency to cause trouble. She then said to everyone, “That was Deputy Chief Bronson. He wants us to talk to Dunbar first thing today.”
“Leo and I can do that,” I volunteered.
“That would be a mistake,” Darby said, looking at our lieutenant. “Sexton and Dunbar have lots of history.”
The history he was referring to was the former chief and me butting heads on some cases, as well as my friendship with our victim. I felt compelled to defend myself. “That doesn’t mean I can’t handle him.”
“It does if Dunbar thinks you’ve got a personal agenda.” He looked at Woody. “Horton and me can do the interview.”
“Maybe you’re forgetting that I’m a lieutenant that actually works cases,” Olivia said. “I’ll go with Leo and Kate to talk to Dunbar. I want you and Woody to follow up with Mel’s sister.”
We had received word that Marilyn Peters had been released from the hospital last night and had been driven home by a friend. I knew from working previous cases that her extreme response to her sister’s death wasn’t that uncommon, but it did demonstrate that she and Mel likely had a close bond. I was hopeful that she could shed some light on who might have wanted to harm her sister.
“The autopsy on our victim is scheduled for three this afternoon,” Jenny volunteered, breaking some of the tension in the room.
Olivia sighed, probably feeling the same dread I was about the prospect of seeing our coworker’s autopsy. “We’ll work it into our schedule.” She looked around the room. “What else?”
“I talked to SID this morning,” Molly said. “There was nothing in the way of prints or other physical evidence, other than the gun left at the scene.”
“What do we know about the murder weapon?”
“It’s a Walther P38 semi-automatic pistol. It’s an antique weapon manufactured for the German army during the Second World War.”
“Anything in the databases?”
“We’re checking, but nothing’s a match, so far.”
“It’s a strange choice for a murder weapon,” Leo said. “Maybe our suspect is a collector.”
“Let’s keep it in mind.” Olivia looked at Darby. “What about her computer and phone?”
“It looks like she hooked up with about a dozen guys over the past three months.” He looked at Jenny. “Where are we on the backgrounds?”
Jenny used a remote control, and in a moment the photographs and descriptors of the men Mel was seeing appeared on one of the overhead monitors. “Eight subjects were listed on a dating website called MatchMates found on our victim’s computer. She contacted them and arranged for a meeting location, usually at a hotel. After the hookup, she apparently never saw them again.”
“Maybe we should have called her One Night Mel,” Darby said, smiling.
“Keep it professional,” Olivia said. She looked at Jenny. “What about the other men?”
“There were three others that she apparently met through mutual friends. Same situation, basically overnight hookups. We’re still in the process of working up their background profiles.” She looked at Molly. “What do you have on the boyfriend?”
Molly used another remote, and a driver’s license photo of another subject appeared. “This is Henry Moss. From what we can tell from her phone, he and Mel were off and on for the past few months. He’s an artist, divorced, age fifty-seven. Lives in the Melrose District.”
“Let’s put him on our list to contact today.” Olivia looked at Darby again. “You and Mel were partners at one time. Did she ever mention Moss or any of the other men she was seeing?”
He shook his head. “I knew she was...” He took a moment. “Let’s just say that Mel had lots of issues. Maybe she was trying to deal with them by hooking up with different guys.”
“What kind of issues?”
“She had some family problems.”
“In addition to being date raped by Reginald Dunbar, Mel was sexually assaulted by a relative when she was younger,” I volunteered, knowing that the information might be necessary to the investigation.
“How do you know that?” Darby demanded.
“She confided in me when we worked a case.”
“She never mentioned anything like that to me.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re a man.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means some things are easier to talk to a woman about.”
Darby was obviously upset by what I’d said. Although I couldn’t imagine what she might have seen in him, the thought crossed my mind that maybe he and Mel were involved at one time.
“Let’s stay on track,” Olivia said, maybe also sensing that Darby was close to a meltdown. “And let’s keep what Kate said in mind as we work the case. It might be pertinent.”
***
Leo and I drove with Olivia to Reginald Dunbar’s house in Pacific Palisades, an enclave of expensive homes near the ocean, about twenty miles from Hollywood. Along the way, Olivia mentioned Darby’s reaction to what I’d said about Mel being molested by a family member. “He seemed surprised, maybe disappointed, that his former partner didn’t confide in him.”
I decided to keep my earlier thoughts about him and Mel possibly being involved to myself, maybe because I couldn’t imagine what she could have ever seen in him. “Despite Darby’s personality issues, I think he might have been genuinely attached to Mel at one time. Maybe it’s just his way of coping.”
Leo agreed as he drove us. “Sometimes I think he just lacks some basic social skills.”
I rolled the rear window down a few inches, giving Bernie some air. “I can’t say that I disagree with that.”
Olivia concurred, then discussed how she wanted to handle the Dunbar interview. “Since our former police chief has issues with women, I’d like you to handle the interview,” she said to Leo.
My partner chuckled. “I think Dunbar has issues with everyone, but I’ll be glad to take the lead.”
I was happy with Olivia’s decision to let Leo handle things. Our former police chief and I had a lot of history—none of it good. He not only had issues with the cases I’d worked, but also with me being a woman, and my family history.
“Nice little place,” Leo said, pulling to the curb in Pacific Palisades a few minutes later. “I’d say we’re looking at a property somewhere north of ten million.”
Reginald Dunbar’s house was a sprawling Mediterranean estate, with a circular driveway, that sat on a bluff overlooking the ocean. I sa
w there was a Maserati parked in the driveway.
“Maybe I should reconsider going for promotion at some point,” I told Olivia. “Being the police chief must have paid well.”
She smiled. “I heard through the grapevine Dunbar invested well and is friends with a lot of Wall Street types.”
“That must be what they really mean by friends with benefits,” Leo said.
After ringing the bell, we were met by a housekeeper, who showed us to a great room overlooking the rear yard that reminded me of an upscale resort, complete with an infinity pool. After a ten minute wait, our former police chief took a seat across from us, not bothering with introductions or greetings.
“I don’t know anything about Peters’ homicide,” Dunbar said flatly, eyeballing Bernie, who was settled at my feet. Our former police chief had a drink in his hand and was casually dressed in slacks and an open collar shirt. I knew that he had some past trauma involving dogs and had been instrumental in trying to remove Bernie from Homicide while he was chief.
“We’re here to cover all the bases,” Leo said, with his ever present smile. “I’m sure you understand that, given that you were under indictment for...”
“The charges were a sham. I’m just disappointed I didn’t have my day in court so I could prove I was innocent.”
I glanced at Olivia, who had her lips pursed together. It was probably taking all her strength to remain quiet.
Leo went on. “For the record, we’ll need to know your whereabouts yesterday.”
“I was home until early afternoon, something that my wife can vouch for. I then spent the rest of the day with Howard Livingston on his yacht at Marina del Rey.”
“Howard Livingston, as in the movie producer?”
A nod. “I’m his new head of security. We discussed my job duties and then had dinner at Club Malone.”
Leo made a note in his pad, then fixed his dark eyes on Dunbar again. “I’m sure you’re aware that some threats had been made against Detective Peters before her murder.”
Dunbar swirled his drink, tipped it up. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
Olivia had clearly had her fill of our arrogant former chief. “Threats not to testify against you. There were several phone calls, and a message left on her vehicle.”
Dunbar locked eyes with our new lieutenant and smiled for the first time. “Heard you were promoted. I guess that payoff finally came through.”
If she was impacted by what was said, Olivia didn’t show it. “Let me make something perfectly clear. I earned my promotion, unlike some people. And I don’t...”
“You don’t have a clue...”
She cut him off, raising her voice, and continuing, “And I don’t appreciate comments disparaging what I earned and deserved because of hard work. Now, let’s get back to the threats made against our victim. Those threats were clearly made by someone who had your interests in mind, someone very close to you, maybe someone who worked for you, or maybe even someone related to you.”
Dunbar raised his voice. “What are you insinuating?”
“I’m not insinuating anything, but I am willing to bet that you know exactly who made the threats, and they were done at your behest.”
“If some threats were made, I don’t know anything about them.” He stood and walked over to a wet bar, where he poured himself another drink before turning back to us. “And, for the record, I’m certainly smart enough not to intimidate a witness.”
The monster who had raped Mel Peters and the other women had just struck a nerve with me. “Or just savvy enough to have someone else do your dirty work.”
Dunbar’s earlier smile came back. “I’m surprised the department is letting you work the case, since you were friends with Peters and clearly have a bias.”
“That’s true. I do have a bias. It’s to find the truth, no matter what it takes.”
A chuckle. “I don’t think this conversation is productive.” Dunbar’s gaze found my furry partner, who was eyeballing him. He then looked at Leo. “If there’s nothing further, you need to take the mutt and leave. I have a tee time with the mayor at Bel Air Country Club in forty minutes and I don’t want to be late.”
We were headed for the door when Dunbar called out behind me. “Be sure to say hi to your friend Cynthia. Tell her it’s too bad things didn’t work out as she planned.”
I stopped and turned around, but saw that he was already walking away. His reference to “Cynthia” was Cynthia McFadden, a reporter who had been friends with Mel and had been instrumental in breaking open the case against Dunbar.
When we were in the car headed back to Hollywood, I thought about what our former police chief had said about playing golf with the mayor. We had recently worked a kidnapping case involving Mayor Weber’s daughter.
I said to Olivia, “Do you really think Dunbar’s playing golf with the mayor after we just saved his kid from being sold into sexual slavery?”
Olivia glanced at me from the front passenger seat and smiled. “Maybe Weber has a short memory.”
“Since he’s playing golf with a rapist, and maybe a killer, that seems likely,” I spat. “Just so you know, I hate politicians and lawyers.”
Olivia’s smile grew wider. “Just so you know, my father is the legal assistant to the state attorney general. He’s a lawyer and a politician. That’s what Dunbar meant when he said my promotion was a payoff.”
I felt like a fool. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Don’t be. And, just for the record, there was no payoff.” Her smile was still there. “And, it might come as no surprise to you, but I also hate lawyers and politicians.”
NINE
We got a call from Woody when we got back to Hollywood. We learned that he and Darby got a late start because some issues came up on a prior case, and they were just heading out to interview Marilyn Peters. Olivia told him we would meet them at Peters’ house.
As Leo drove us, I was still thinking about Olivia’s statement that she hated lawyers and politicians. Dunbar had insinuated that her promotion was a gift, orchestrated by her father. While I had no doubt that was a lie, it made me wonder about Olivia’s relationship with her father. My thoughts were interrupted when we pulled to the curb in front of Marilyn Peters’ small home in the foothills of Hollywood.
We met up with Darby and Woody on the street and took a moment, filling them in on what Dunbar had said. Darby wasted no time giving us his opinion. “You ask me, our ex-chief might have been orchestrating the threats behind the scenes against Mel and the other women, but that doesn’t make him a killer. My money’s still on one of the male prostitutes she was seeing. Maybe someone was blackmailing her to keep quiet, and things broke bad for her.”
“Your opinion is duly noted,” Olivia said as we walked to the door. She said to Woody, “I’d like you to handle the interview with Peters.”
“Why am I being cut out?” Darby demanded, moving up to Olivia’s side and confronting her.
Olivia turned to him on the landing. “You’re not being cut out. I’m your boss and made a decision to let Detective Horton interview Peters. Deal with it.”
While Darby’s fleshy face reddened, Woody smiled and rang the bell. A woman opened the door, introduced herself as Marla Laurent, and told us that she was Marilyn’s friend. She said that Marilyn was just getting out of bed after her long night. She then showed us to the family room, where we waited while she went to get her friend.
Marilyn’s friend was attractive, with dark hair and green eyes, like mine, and a nearly perfect figure that reminded me of Natalie. I saw that Darby’s eyes were fixed on her as she left the room.
I couldn’t resist saying, “Like what you see?”
He scowled at me, probably still upset over his confrontation with Olivia. “Mind your own business.”
My gaze moved off, finding Olivia. We exchanged smiles before I gave Bernie the hand signal to settle.
A couple minutes later, Laurent
returned with Marilyn Peters. I knew from the background information Jenny and Molly had gathered that Mel’s sister was a couple years younger than her. She was slender, with dark eyes and auburn hair. Her face was blotchy, and she didn’t make eye contact as Woody introduced us. Marla Laurent excused herself and left the room as Marilyn took a seat across from us.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Woody began, unsuccessfully trying to make eye contact with our subject. “I’m sorry about the loss of your sister. She was not only our coworker, she was also our friend.”
Marilyn nodded, briefly met his eyes, and teared up. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Can you tell us when you last saw her?”
She sniffed. “Over the weekend. We went to the Galaxy and had lunch.”
“The mall?”
She nodded. “She and Henry were planning to go to a party, and Mel wanted a new outfit.”
“Her boyfriend?”
“Yes, they were...” Her voice broke, and tears sprang from her eyes again. “Oh, God, I wonder if he knows.”
“We informed him of your sister’s death earlier this morning.”
“How did...was he upset?”
Her question seemed a bit strange to me as Woody answered, “Of course. We’re going to talk to him again later today.”
“You don’t think...is he a suspect?”
“Should he be? Were he and your sister having any problems?”
“No...not that I know about. It’s just...I can’t imagine who would want to hurt her.”
Woody nodded, fixing his eyes on his interview subject. “What about your sister’s former police chief, Reginald Dunbar? Did she ever mention him to you?”
“Of course. I knew what he did to her and that she was considering testifying against him.”
“What was your sister’s emotional state when she told you what happened?”
