Hollywood Scream

by M. Z. Kelly

  “Who’s Greta?” Mo asked Nana, looking up from the magazine she was reading.

  She scowled. “You people are a bunch of old fogies. She’s only the hottest comic in Hollywood. I’m thinking about inviting her to our lip sync competition.” She looked at me. “Even though one of our performers has no rhythm or sense of humor.”

  After they were gone, I accepted Natalie’s offer to join her and Mo for drinks in the atrium. As Otto worked on the ingredients for something she called “Rum Diaries”, I told her and Mo, “I’m not sure how much longer I can put up with Nana, Howie, and Fred. Maybe it’s time I looked for my own place.”

  “You can’t leave us with that trio of crazies,” Natalie said. “We’re friends through thick ‘n’ thin.”

  Mo sighed. “I’ll have a talk with Fred tomorrow ‘bout going back home. He’s starting to wear on me, too. Nana and him spent the morning talkin’ ‘bout medications and constipation. Just the thought of them two hookin’ up makes me wanna do the toilet tango.”

  Natalie agreed. “I’m thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ into therapy. Maybe somebody can waterboard me and brainwash the images of Nana and Fred away.” She looked at me. “So, what’s the latest on findin’ Brad Novak’s killer?”

  “It’s the only thing on the news,” Mo said. “This murder is bigger than what OJ did.”

  I tried to be noncommittal. “We’re still doing interviews, just getting started. Did you two hear anything more at the studio?”

  “Just what we told you this morning. We think his manager was either involved, or knows somethin’ more ‘bout what happened.”

  “Rumor has it she’s a monster,” Natalie added.

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Anybody who crosses her pays the price. Like we said before, she mighta been blackmailin’ Brad not to tell the tabloids he was bi.”

  I considered what they said, realizing we’d need to go back to Judy Welch soon if nothing else broke. “Novak had a business manager, Garfield Boyer. Did you guys hear his name mentioned by anyone?”

  “He was Brad’s Angelina, only with a penis,” Natalie said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “A penis is a male organ used in sexual...”

  “Funny,” I said, cutting her off. “I’m talking about their relationship.”

  “Brad was under Garfield’s spell, in love with the bloke.”

  “I hear them two had a bunch of screamin’ matches,” Mo said. “Maybe there was another guy in the mix.”

  “You think Brad was cheating on Garfield?”

  “Maybe,” Natalie said. “You know how guys can get when there’s another chap in the sack.”

  Otto came in and left a tray of drinks on the coffee table. Natalie served them to Mo and me, telling us, “A couple of these and you start tellin’ all your dirty little secrets, like everything you wrote in your diary as a girl.”

  Mo hoisted her drink. “If that happens, you’re both in trouble.”

  I tasted my drink, realizing it had a lot more rum than the fruit juice and grenadine in the recipe Natalie had given Otto. I decided to go easy on it.

  I then mentioned what Leo had told me he’d found out about their boss as I drove home. “This is confidential, but Leo thinks Jimmy might be lying low, just to get away from his wife.”

  My friends looked at one another. Natalie said, “Myrna’s a royal pain, but I think there’s more to the plot than that.”

  “Maybe Jimmy found himself a girlfriend,” Mo said, apparently thinking Leo’s theory might have some merit.

  “That’s impossible. Jimmy’s uglideous.”

  “He’s what?” I asked after sipping my drink.

  “Ugly and hideous. No woman in her right mind is gonna hook up with him.”

  Mo shrugged. “Money talks, and we both know Jimmy’s hidin’ his first dollar under his mattress.”

  “I’ll ask Leo to do some more digging. In the meantime, please don’t tell Myrna what I said.”

  “You kiddin’?” Mo said. “We mention that Jimmy’s cheating on her, and you’ll have another homicide on your hands.”

  “That’s the last thing I need.”

  “Speakin’ of that,” Natalie said. “What’s the latest on the Angel and his crazy mama?”

  “Still gone to ground. Nothing new.”

  “And Daniel?” Mo asked.

  “I’ve been too busy with work to look for him. I’ll try to go by his adoptive mother’s place and talk to her this weekend.”

  “Mo and me found a picture of him,” Natalie said, pulling out her phone.

  “What...? How did you get that?” I sat next to her as she scrolled through some images.

  “This was taken at a play from that actors’ workshop from a couple years ago.” She pointed out a man in the back row of what appeared to be a cast photo. “He’s the bloke in the back who looks a little lost.”

  I took the phone from her and enlarged the screen. “Are you sure this is him?”

  “His name is mentioned as one of the members from the play, The Crucible.”

  I studied the screen for a long time. Daniel was handsome, but there was something about my brother’s large brown eyes that did make him appear lost. It made me want to reach out to him even more, despite my frustration about never knowing him.

  I finally gave Natalie her phone back. “Why don’t you send me that picture? In the meantime, maybe you guys can help me look for him this weekend.”

  “You can count on us,” Natalie said.

  “Glad to help,” Mo added.

  I stood, feeling exhausted. “I’m going to walk Bernie, get a bite to eat, then call it a day.”

  As I put Bernie’s leash on him, Mo said, “You need to get a life, Kate. You’re gonna lose your edge.”

  “Maybe Kate’s becoming a Plato,” Natalie offered.

  “A what?” I said.

  “Someone who only wants platonic relationships ‘cause they’ve given up on sex.” She then went on, again saying something about me getting older and being less desirable, as I left the house with Bernie.

  As I walked down the street, her comments haunted me. Was I really getting older and less attractive? The truth was I’d begun to see some fine lines appearing around the corners of my eyes, and, recently, I’d even plucked a couple gray hairs. I decided that I needed to make an appointment at Robin’s salon to see what he could do for me.

  The thought of Robin caused me to think about my other brother—the one I’d never met. Daniel was out there somewhere, broken and alone, probably constantly looking over his shoulder for Harlee and her grandfather. I made a commitment to find him, no matter what it took.

  THIRTY-SIX

  “SID has positively identified several prints found in Brad Novak’s trailer, including those belonging to his mother, some production staff and other actors, as well as those of Judy Welch and Garfield Boyer.” We were in the lieutenant’s office the next morning, as Leo looked over the top of his glasses at the lieutenant and read from his notes. “I finally got ahold of Boyer. He’s agreed to meet with us at noon today.”

  “Novak’s autopsy is scheduled for this morning,” Richard said. “We can go by and meet with him afterwards.”

  “I put in a call to our victim’s ex-wife, Allison Hart, last night,” Olivia said. “She’s agreed to meet with us this morning. Kate and I can go by her place.”

  “What about the mother?” Byrd asked.

  “Molly got ahold of her yesterday. She was pretty distraught, but thought she might be available today, as well. We’ll follow up.”

  The lieutenant, who looked like his halo of white hair had been caught in a windstorm, told Leo, “You and Hurd can do the autopsy.” He looked at Olivia. “Take Sexton and follow up with the ex and the mother. When you’re done, the four of you can have a go at the business manager.”

  Richard tossed a copy of the Herald-Press on the table. The headline read: Actor’s Death Under Investiga
tion. “Word’s out about this being a homicide. It’s all over the national news, as well.”

  Byrd scowled. “I can read and watch TV.” He looked at Leo. “What else?”

  “Novak was an alcoholic, partied a lot. The table in his trailer had coke and Molly, but everyone says he didn’t use drugs because of a brother who overdosed and died a few years back, so maybe it was a setup.”

  “Were there any prints on the table or drug paraphernalia?”

  “Nothing. They’re checking for DNA, but the results will take a couple days.”

  “Our suspect didn’t bother to leave Novak’s prints on the syringe,” Olivia said. “Meaning he or she was probably in a hurry.”

  “Somebody injected him, wearing gloves, or wiped the syringe clean, then beat feet,” Richard agreed.

  Leo sipped his coffee, then told the lieutenant, “We learned that Novak was bisexual, involved with both Welch, a few months back, and, more recently, Boyer.” He looked at Olivia and me. “Did you get anything else from the actors you interviewed late yesterday?”

  I answered, as Bernie sniffed around the office for crumbs. “Just that Novak lived the typical life of a movie star, with lots of parties and affairs. I get the feeling we’ve only scratched the surface.”

  “Then scratch deeper,” Byrd growled. “There’s lots of eyes on this.” He looked at Richard. “You might want to tell your uncle we’re working all the angles.”

  “He knows, and it’s not like we talk a lot. He’s got his own problems after the bombings.”

  Byrd scoffed. “Whatever. Let’s meet back here at the end of the day.”

  Olivia and I stopped at a Starbucks on the way to Allison Hart’s house in Century City. While I waited for my latte, I told her, “I get the impression our lieutenant isn’t happy with the pressure he’s getting from Bronson.”

  “He’s not cutting Richard any slack either.” She chuckled. “Then again, I’m beginning to think he doesn’t cut anyone slack.”

  As we walked back to the car with Bernie, I thought about Bronson’s nephew. When we were back in the car, I said, “Do you think Richard’s gay?”

  Olivia glanced at me as she started the car. “It’s crossed my mind, but if he is, as far as I know, he’s not in the open about it.”

  “Do you know anything about his personal life?”

  “Leo said something about him living in Sherman Oaks with his sister. Not sure about anything else.”

  I sipped my drink, then said, “Maybe he’s a Plato.”

  “A what?”

  “My friend Natalie accused me of being a Plato last night. It’s someone who’s given up on sex and only wants platonic relationships.” I forced a smile. “My friends are worried about my love life, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Olivia laughed. “At least they’re concerned about you.” She glanced at me as she drove, her smile growing wider. “Martin called me last night.”

  “So, maybe you two aren’t history?”

  “The jury’s still out. There are some sparks there, but he said he was just calling to check on me. We didn’t make any definite plans.” She shrugged. “I guess time will tell.” She looked at me again. “Have you heard from Joe?”

  “Nothing. He and Eva are probably busy...with the case.”

  She nodded. “I have a feeling something’s going to break soon. The Angel’s killing pattern has been disrupted, and that’s probably not playing well with him, or his mother.”

  “Then I guess we’d better solve this case before we have to go back to Quantico.”

  Brad Novak’s ex lived in a high rise overlooking the Los Angeles Country Club. Her unit wasn’t the penthouse suite, but it was a couple floors down from there. After being let inside by her sister, Taylor, we found Hart in a bedroom, on a massage table, with her masseur.

  Novak’s ex glanced up after her sister had introduced us and left the room. “Let’s make this quick. Randy needs to work on my tragus points.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but her masseur was in his twenties, handsome and muscular. I got the impression he did a lot more than finding tragus points.

  Randy left us alone as Hart sat up on the massage table, using a towel to cover herself. During that process, I noticed that she was what some women might call “big boned”. Others might simply say she was overweight.

  “Just for the record, I was at Boscom’s in Santa Monica the night before last,” Hart said, before we could begin questioning her. “I spent the night here. My sister can confirm that.”

  “Boscom’s?” Olivia said.

  An eyeroll. “It’s only the trendiest club on the beach in Santa Monica.”

  Olivia made a note in her pad, then said, “Let’s talk about your relationship with Brad.”

  “We didn’t have a relationship, other than him not paying my alimony on time.”

  “We understand you planned to go back to court and ask for an increase in your support,” I said, after giving Bernie the hand signal to settle beside me.

  She cut her hazel eyes to me and sneered. “You must have been talking to Judy.” She looked at Olivia again. “Just for the record, if I was going to kill somebody, it would be her.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Brad had his issues with being faithful, but Judy took things to a whole other level. She was obsessed with him, and convinced him to divorce me.”

  “Did Judy ever threaten him?” I asked. “Or you, for that matter?”

  “Of course. She’s a bitch. That’s how she operates.”

  “Can you tell us, specifically, what she said?”

  Hart’s heavy shoulders heaved, as she ran a hand through shoulder length hair the color of summer wheat. I knew from some background information Jenny and Molly had pulled together that she was twenty-five, but she looked much older.

  “I went by the studio a few weeks back to talk to Brad about my alimony,” she said. “Judy told me, in her words, ‘You’re poison, and if I had my way, you would go away permanently.’”

  “Did you take her threats seriously?”

  A shrug. “It’s not like I started hiding out or anything.”

  “And Brad?” Olivia said. “What kind of threats did Judy make against him?”

  “Just that she wished he was dead.”

  “When was that?”

  “Dozens of times, whenever she was angry with him. I can’t give you specific dates. Like I said, she’s an angry bitch and would have done anything to get Brad back.”

  “Did you ever see Brad use drugs?”

  “Never. His brother OD’d, so he wouldn’t even smoke grass.” She chewed on her manicure. “I hate to burst your bubble, but Brad was nothing but a boring asshole in love with his own dick.”

  I glanced at Olivia, who, like me, was probably thinking Novak’s ex was an immature brat. She demonstrated nothing in the way of grief over her ex-husband’s death. “What can you tell us about Brad’s relationship with Garfield Boyer?”

  Her features became pinched as she gave up on her nails. “I can’t tell you anything because I don’t know him. All I can tell you is that I heard he’s a scum sucking leach who was stealing from Brad when he wasn’t fucking him. And, just for the record, Brad’s penis was like a door hinge. It swung whichever way the wind was blowing. He especially like BLs.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Barely Legals. He liked them young and willing, male or female. When Brad and I first hooked up, I was sixteen.” She smiled. “I wasn’t even a BL.”

  Hart laid back down on the massage table and called out for Randy. She then said to us, “There’s nothing more I have to say, other than I’m planning to sue Brad’s mother for his estate.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “I spent seven years married to that crazy bastard. I deserve to inherit everything he had.”

  As we drove to Caroline Novak’s condo in North Hollywood, I gave Olivia my thoughts about Allison Hart, using one wor
d adjectives: “Selfish, childish, shallow, and angry.”

  Olivia glanced at me. “How about homicidal?”

  My brows arched. “I’m not sure. She’s a brat, but I don’t know if she’s capable of murder.”

  “Unless it was impulsive, and she acted out of anger.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Let’s see if our victim’s mother can offer some insight.”

  Caroline Novak lived in a condo complex a couple blocks from Sunset Boulevard. After introductions, we met with her on the balcony of her unit, overlooking the building’s pool. I took a chair, and Bernie settled beside me, on a day that had dawned clear and sunny, in contrast to our victim’s mother, who was gloomy and despondent.

  “I can’t believe Bradley’s gone,” Novak said, clutching her sides, after she took a seat across from Olivia and me. She and her son shared the same beautiful blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. Novak looked to be around fifty, with a short, stylish haircut. Despite her being an attractive woman, I got the impression that her composure was hanging by a thread. She continued. “The news is saying it wasn’t an overdose.”

  “It’s too soon to say for sure,” Olivia offered, “but, it’s our understanding your son didn’t use drugs.”

  Our victim’s mother exhaled, her head slumping forward. “Since we lost Jack, his brother, Bradley promised me he would never use.” She looked up, her eyes filling. “Who could have done this?”

  “We were hoping you could help us with that,” I said. “Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm your son?”

  It took her a long time to answer. “Bradley surrounded himself with lots of people. Some of them had problems, but none of them understood him.”

  “Can you tell us what you mean by that?”

  She took a couple deep breaths. Her hands shook as she sipped her tea. “Bradley was diagnosed with something called MDS a couple years ago. He’d secretly undergone treatment, including a bone marrow transplant that failed. Nobody knows this, but my son was terminal. He probably didn’t have more than a few months to live.”

  I glanced at Olivia, my brows shooting up. I said to Novak, “When you say no one knew about his condition, does that include his ex-wife?”