by M. Z. Kelly
Leo chuckled. “I saw a TV show about the kid that murdered his parents there. The place looked a little creepy.”
“I hate to say this,” Olivia said, “but you may need to carve out some time to work our cases this weekend, despite your move.”
“It might be preferable to sleeping with a couple of headless corpses.” I took a moment and explained what Natalie and Mo had told me about the couple being murdered in my bedroom.
Olivia said to Leo, “Her life is certainly more interesting than mine.”
“Mine, too,” Leo said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “I haven’t seen a headless corpse around my house in a couple years.”
“Not to be insensitive, but speaking of corpses,” Olivia said, “I got a call from Dr. Randolph after our meeting. The autopsy on Ken Weston is at three this afternoon. I’ll see if Darby and Woody can work it into their schedule.”
Leo glanced at her. “Just so you know, Darby was already complaining about the workload and the day’s assignment when he and Woody left the station.”
As Leo turned onto Melrose Boulevard, Olivia said, “Darby complaining is like the weather. It’s always going to happen, come rain or shine.”
We found Henry Moss’s art studio down an alleyway in what looked like a converted warehouse just past the trendy Melrose shopping district. I glanced at the artwork as we entered the studio and said to Olivia, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like this.”
“It’s a bit unusual,” she agreed.
As it turned out, Henry Moss’s specialty was Molecular Modernism, something that he explained to us in his office after we introduced ourselves and took seats. “We use a scanning electron microscope to take images of everything from parasitical specimens to microscopic particles. Those images are then enlarged into the three-dimensional pieces you see in the studio.”
“It’s very...unique,” Olivia said, probably choosing her words carefully. “I’m curious how you and Mel met one another.”
Moss, a wiry guy in his late fifties, with thinning gray hair, shook his head. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. We hadn’t seen one another since...” His eyes became glassy. “I guess you know about her diagnosis.”
“We know about it only because the coroner obtained her medical records.”
“To answer your question about how we met, Mel came by the studio, with a friend who was an art collector, a couple years ago. We talked about my work and things between us sort of progressed from there.”
“You said that you hadn’t seen Mel since her diagnosis. I take it you two had gone your separate ways.”
He smiled. “Our relationship was always...I guess you could say we were off and on.”
Olivia glanced at me before telling him, “Then you know she was seeing other people.”
He nodded. “We didn’t specifically discuss it, but it doesn’t surprise me.”
“We learned that she was doing some online dating. Were you aware of that?”
Moss’s expression was blank, but I sensed he was surprised. “We never talked about anything like that.”
I changed the subject, taking a moment to tell him that Mel and I were friends, adding, “She never mentioned to me that she had cancer. How do you think she was coping?”
“Not well. We spoke on the phone a time or two, and she made a point of saying she didn’t want anyone to know about her diagnosis. As I’m sure you’re aware, she was a very private person.”
“Was she having problems with anyone that you’re aware of?”
“She told me about her former chief and the case against him. He’s the only person I can think of who might have wanted to harm her, but you might want to talk to her sister.”
“Why is that?”
“She and Mel were inseparable. They shared everything. If anyone was a threat to her, Marilyn would know.”
Twenty minutes later, we finished up with Mel’s former boyfriend, not getting much that was useful. When we were on the sidewalk, Olivia said to Leo and me, “Moss directly contradicted what Mel’s sister told us about her and Mel not sharing a lot of personal information. The more I think about that, the more I’m convinced that Marilyn Peters is holding something back.”
“Let’s try and go by her place after we meet with Ken Weston’s business partner,” I said as my phone rang.
I saw the call was from Ross Adams. I thought about letting it go to voice mail, but decided I might not have another opportunity to talk to him. I excused myself for a moment and stepped away.
“Just calling to see if you need help with tomorrow’s move,” Ross said.
“How are your exorcism skills?”
He laughed. “That bad?”
“It’s worse than I imagined. Actually, I could use the help, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to get involved.”
Before we ended the call, Ross agreed to meet me in the morning. As I made my way back over to the car and met up with Olivia and Leo, I mentioned the call was from Ross and that he’d offered to help me move.
“He sounds like a keeper,” Olivia said.
I got Bernie into the back seat. “We’ll see how he feels tomorrow after spending the day with my roommates.”
“I’m sure Natalie and Mo will make things interesting,” Leo said.
I smiled. “I was actually referring to Maurice and Lola.”
“Who?”
“Just a couple of ghosts who will be sharing my bedroom.”
NINETEEN
It took us the better part of an hour to make our way through heavy traffic and find parking in downtown Los Angeles. We met with Barry Goldman in the Bunker Hill district. The area had been a popular setting for movies, especially in the later part of the last century. The neighborhood was known for its Victorian architecture and Angels Flight, a funicular, called the world’s shortest railway, which took visitors up a steep incline.
After introductions, we took seats, and Bernie settled beside me, in an oak paneled conference room with Ken Weston’s former partner. Barry Goldman was in his sixties and rotund, with white hair and gold framed glasses. He wore a dark three-piece suit, maybe in an effort to look the part of a wealthy investment broker.
After some small talk, Olivia asked Goldman when he last saw Weston.
“Ken and I had a meeting yesterday morning. He left around noon, saying he was taking the rest of the day off for personal matters.”
“Did you know what he meant by that?”
Goldman shook his head. “No, but I knew there was a lot going on between him and Tina. I thought it might have something to do with that.”
“Can you explain what you mean?”
“They were having marital problems. There was some talk of divorce. I know Ken wasn’t happy.”
“Was he involved with someone else?”
“I’m not sure.” Goldman smoothed a hand over his silk tie. “Can I be frank with you?”
“Of course.”
“My partner had a dark side. Sometimes...no, make that more than sometimes, I think he strayed in his marriage.”
Olivia glanced at me and Leo, then said to Goldman, “I’m a little surprised. Tina said they were high school sweethearts.”
“I think that might have been part of the problem. Ken confided in me that he and Tina didn’t have a lot in common. He thought they’d married too young.” Goldman’s bushy brows went up. “I think he also had a roving eye, if you get my drift.”
“It sounds like he might have been seeing someone else.”
“Probably, but I don’t know who.”
“What about prostitutes?” Leo asked.
Goldman looked surprised. “I couldn’t really say.”
“There was a text on his phone from a woman who called herself ‘Mattie’,” I said. “Does that name sound familiar?”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
Goldman’s gaze moved off before Olivia asked him about his investment firm. “It’s come to o
ur attention that some of your company’s investments haven’t panned out in recent months, and that you have a lot of unhappy investors. Could that have been a factor in what happened to your partner?”
Goldman met our boss’s eyes again. “Hardly. It’s true that we’ve had our share of reversals in recent months, but that’s the nature of the investment business.”
“Did anyone take those losses personally, maybe blame Ken?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Goldman took a breath, then moved the conversation in a different direction. “There is something I should probably tell you. Ken said he thought his wife was cheating on him.”
“Did he say who she was seeing?”
He nodded. “I didn’t want to believe it, because my wife and I go to the same church as Ken and Tina. Ken thought Tina was cheating with our minister.”
We spent another fifteen minutes with Goldman, not getting much, other than the fact that the minister’s name was Mike Malloy. Goldman said he never thought of Malloy as the type to be involved in an affair with one of his parishioners, but said that the minister was divorced.
We were about to leave when I happened to see the cover of a report about international banking on a table outside the conference room. I told Olivia and Leo that I’d catch up with them shortly and asked Goldman if he had a moment to talk to me about another matter.
Olivia and Leo agreed to take Bernie for a stroll. After settling back in Goldman’s conference room, I told him, “I’m working on a situation where some numbers have been brought to my attention that might refer to an offshore bank account.” I handed him a slip of paper from my purse that I believed contained the offshore account numbers from my adoptive dad’s closed safe deposit box. “Is there any way to connect these numbers with the country of origin or a location? From what I understand, there was a small amount of money also found in the safe deposit box.”
Goldman studied the numbers for a moment before handing the paper back to me. “I’m sorry, but the numbers themselves don’t mean much.”
I exhaled. “That’s what I thought.” I put the paper back in my purse. “Thanks for taking a look.”
As we walked to the door, Goldman said, “There are so many countries with offshore accounts and tax shelters these days that it’s becoming a crowded field. If you get any information about the type of currency found in the box, give me a call. If it was a foreign currency, it could be that the banking institution is linked to the currency’s country of origin.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
As we walked to our car, Olivia asked me if Goldman had said anything of further interest.
I shook my head. “I have a feeling that I’m not only going to be living with ghosts, I’ll be spending a lot more of my time chasing them.”
TWENTY
After stopping for a quick lunch and making repeated attempts to contact Marilyn Peters without success, we got back to the station around three. We met up with Darby, Woody, and our crime analysts in Olivia’s office.
After Olivia updated everyone on our meetings with Henry Moss and Barry Goldman, she turned our attention to the Wonderland murder. “We weren’t able to interview Tina Weston because she was under a doctor’s care and sedated, so we’ll need to try and contact her at some point tomorrow. As I mentioned, Goldman thinks she was having an affair with their minister, so we’ll need to follow up on that angle.”
Darby picked up on an earlier thought I’d had that Tina Weston could be behind her husband’s murder. “We know the wife was having an affair with her minister. Maybe she knew her husband was seeing prostitutes and she set everything in motion. She sets up the meeting at the house on Wonderland under the guise that she was a working girl. She shows up and murders her husband, then comes back during the investigation and puts on an Oscar-worthy performance, claiming they had a perfect marriage.”
“I also considered that,” I said, “but we didn’t see evidence that she’d suffered any cuts. The neighbor also saw a young woman on the street that night who went into the back yard through the side gate.”
Darby was dismissive. “There were no cuts that you saw. Maybe the cuts were to her arm and were covered. It could also be that Tina Weston showed up dressed as a working girl. The neighbor wouldn’t know her from Adam, or I should say Eve.”
“We’ll check her arms for cuts when we interview her,” Olivia said. “Let’s move on.”
Woody then took the lead in updating us on our victim’s autopsy. “The COD was immediate high volume blood loss from the arterial incision made during the attack. There were no defensive wounds, probably because loss of consciousness would have been almost immediate, but the coroner thinks Weston might have pushed away from his attacker during the assault, resulting in the suspect being cut. Weston had type O blood, but there was also type AB blood at the scene of the attack and on the fence at the side yard. They’re in the process of trying to do a DNA match to what’s in the databases.”
“There was nothing else in the way of trace, prints, or other physical evidence left at the scene,” Darby added.
Jenny had been trying to say something during the earlier exchange with Darby and was finally able to speak up. “Molly and I have something to add.”
Molly used a remote to activate one of the overhead monitors. “This is CCTV footage from the Quick Mart on Laurel Canyon, near the intersection of Wonderland Drive. As you can see, we got lucky, and the security cameras faced the parking lot and the street beyond. This footage is from nine twenty-seven last night.”
We watched as a black sedan pulled into the parking lot and a young woman, dressed in black, went into the store. She returned to her car about five minutes later with a cup of coffee and drove away.
“We weren’t able to get her vehicle’s plate because of the angle that she was parked,” Jenny said, “but we do have footage from inside the store.”
In a moment, we saw close-up images of the woman, paying for her drink and then leaving the store.
“We can run this past the neighbor, but she’s probably the same woman she saw on the street,” I said. I met Darby’s eyes. “She definitely isn’t Tina Weston.”
He sneered at me, but kept quiet.
“Let’s talk to the neighbor and get with Media Relations about releasing the footage to the public,” Olivia said. She looked around the room. “Anything more on this, before we move on to Peters?”
“Just an observation, for what it’s worth,” Woody said. “The girl in the convenience store appears young. She doesn’t engage with the clerk or make eye contact, and she keeps her head down.”
“So what?” Darby said.
Woody looked at me. “Didn’t your report say something about the neighbor telling you that the woman she saw wobbled on her heels when she walked?”
“Yes. Maybe an indication she wasn’t used to wearing high heels.”
Woody looked at Olivia. “Like I said, it’s just an observation, but if she’s a working girl, she could be either new to the business or inexperienced. She doesn’t come across like your typical prostitute.”
Darby was dismissive. “This is Hollywood. Everyone’s an actor, even the whores.”
Woody shrugged. “It’s just my opinion, but she doesn’t present like most girls we run across.”
“It’s worth keeping in mind,” Olivia said, locking eyes with Darby before he could respond. She then looked around the room. “Let’s move on to the Peters case.”
I took a moment, again mentioning our meeting with Mel’s boyfriend, and updating everyone on what he told us. “It’s noteworthy that Henry Moss said Mel and her sister Marilyn were close. He said if anyone was making threats to Mel, her sister would know about it. It’s also of interest that Marilyn didn’t return any of the messages we left today.”
Olivia looked at Jenny and Molly. “Anything new on the men Mel was seeing?”
“We came up with an additional name,” Molly said. “We only know a
bout him because of a conversation I had with Connie Winters when I mentioned the case to her in the breakroom today.”
“Who?” Olivia asked.
“She’s a clerk who does mail runs between here and downtown. Connie said that she and Mel had become friends, and Mel mentioned that she was seeing David Baxter a couple of months back.”
“You lost me again,” Olivia said.
“He worked patrol here before quitting and becoming a PI a few months back,” Darby said. “A worthless POS.”
“Baxter had an arrest go south,” I said. “IA was looking at the case when he resigned.”
“Excessive use of force,” Leo added.
Molly went on. “I just thought I’d mention him in case someone wants to follow up.”
“I think it’s worth having a conversation with him,” I said.
Darby disagreed. “I think it’s a waste of time. Baxter’s scum and had issues with lots of people. It doesn’t mean squat.”
Olivia looked at me and Leo. “Can you do some follow-up?” She looked at Darby. “Due diligence.”
After Darby said something about the investigation stalling out, Olivia told us how she wanted to proceed. “Let’s plan on putting in at least a half day tomorrow so we can follow up on what we talked about.” She looked at me. “Sorry, I know you’ve got plans.”
Darby looked at me. “I heard you’re moving into that haunted house in the hills with your crazy friends. You must be out of your mind.”
I locked eyes with him. “Maybe. Then again, there are worse things. I could be your neighbor.”
TWENTY-ONE
Dr. Haley Robinson burst through the hospital emergency room doors. She met with ambulance staff as they removed a patient on a gurney. “What have we got?”
“Thirty-eight-year-old female,” the attendant said. “Blunt trauma to the head and chest. She’s hypotensive. BP is sixty-eight over forty-two and crashing.”
“Let’s get her inside and hooked up.”
The accident victim was nothing out of the ordinary for the emergency physician. Haley had seen far worse patients, some on the verge of death, who she’d successfully revived. After stabilizing the woman, she spent three hours in the operating room, repairing several major arteries and a perforated appendix.
