by M. Z. Kelly
I chuckled. “I don’t think I’m cut out for that. I like working the streets.”
She smiled. “Maybe you should think about it. We’ve both proven that women have a lot to offer when it comes to police work.”
SIX
I ran into Lieutenant Kemp after returning to the Cold Case Unit, where he made it clear he’d already been informed of the decision to let us work the Bratton case. “You and Winkler can head over to Hollywood Station. Somebody upstairs lost their mind and authorized you to be on loan to RHD.”
I was annoyed by what he said. “That someone would be the new police chief, and I doubt she would appreciate you saying she lost her mind.”
Kemp seemed visibly shaken. “It was just a figure of speech. I’ll see you later.”
I broke the news to Charlie, who said, “You mean we get to go back to our old stomping grounds and work together, just like the old days?”
“You and me, Winkler, driving fast, taking names, and kicking butt.”
The flicker of excitement on his face was quickly extinguished. “Oh, no, I just thought about something. Jessica’s still working there.”
Jessica Barlow was a detective working out of Hollywood Station. She and Charlie had been in a relationship a few weeks back that almost resulted in him marrying her to pay off his gambling debts. He’d evaded his matrimonial fate, only because Natalie and Mo had intervened, arranging for Nana to pay off his bookie. I’d gone to high school with Jessica and could personally attest to her being a life form lower than pond scum. I never understood his attraction to her.
“You’ll just have to stay out of her way,” I said. “Besides, I’m hoping we’ll be out in the field a lot.”
After gathering a few belongings, Charlie and I made our way to Hollywood, but not before he stopped for a breakfast sandwich. I agreed to the stop, only because I’d become an insomniac of late and desperately needed another cup of coffee. We then went by Natalie and Mo’s place to pick up Bernie.
“If you’re workin’ the Bratton case together,” Natalie said, getting Bernie’s leash, “it must be like you two are having sex again.”
Charlie blushed while I took exception to what she’d said.
“Don’t go gettin’ yourself all worked up into a kerfuffle,” Natalie said. “I’m just sayin’, Charlie was your work hubby. You two musta fantasized ‘bout doin’ the dirty deed a few times.”
Charlie’s crimson color deepened as I said, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Why is that?” Charlie said, surprising me. He was obviously upset by my comment.
I looked at him. “You’re almost twice my age, more like a father than...” I exhaled. “Never mind.” I took the leash from Natalie.
“I got some scuttlebutt on the Bratton case,” Mo said, putting the finishing touches on a blue wig. “If you wanna hear it.”
“We can use all the help we can get,” I said.
“Word on the street is the daddy had a lotta secrets.”
“Secrets, as in?”
“Not sure, exactly.” She glanced at the wig, using a hand mirror, then looked back at me. “I just heard he was the mouthpiece for a lot of big shot movie types, and kept all their dirty little secrets.”
I remembered that Lee Bratton had been an entertainment lawyer, as Charlie asked, “What kind of secrets?”
“You’re the detective. I’m just giving you rumors. You gotta get the details.”
“Maybe he got paid back for spilling some of those dirty secrets,” Charlie suggested, looking at me.
“We’ll look into his background,” I told Mo as we headed for the door.
Natalie came over and said to me, “If you get a chance, pop in after work. Tex and Howie are gonna come by, and I’m makin’ a big batch of Forget Me Nots.”
I had no idea what a Forget Me Not was, but guessed it was one of Natalie’s signature cocktails. As for Tex, he and Natalie had recently gotten back together after his previous relationship ended. Tex was brilliant and well read, but lacked any common sense, whereas their friend Howie had a different problem. He suffered from multiple personality disorder, and you never knew which personality was going to show up.
“I’ll see if I can make it,” I said to Natalie, having no intention of “popping in”.
Charlie and I got to Hollywood Station just before eleven and settled into a couple empty workstations. We then met up with Leo and Darby in the lieutenant’s expansive office that was formerly assigned to Section One. It was outfitted with a lot of high tech gear, providing access to various databases, viewable via overhead monitors. The space was familiar to Bernie, so he wandered off to his usual corner and plopped down for his morning nap.
While we waited for Sam Grundy, the recently assigned lieutenant, Darby Hall wasted no time irritating us. “How did you two manage to break out of the cold case fridge?” His muddy eyes narrowed on me. “Everybody here was hoping you’d never be seen or heard from again.”
“That’s not true,” Leo said, defending me.
I looked at Darby. “Let’s just say that things thawed out, and we’re back in action.”
Darby’s gaze moved over to Charlie. “And I thought you were going back into retirement in Idaho.”
Charlie was slurping up the last of something he’d confiscated from the breakroom refrigerator. He set the cup down and stared at Darby. “If I start to care about what you think, you’ll be the first to know.”
Darby scoffed, his dark gaze moving between the both of us. “You two make the perfect pair.” He looked at Leo. “This should be fun. We got one partner that’s older than dirt, the other’s just a jinx.”
Darby was convinced that trouble followed me, something that he never hesitated to mention to other cops. I started to respond when Charlie demonstrated he’d already had enough of Darby.
“You’d better find a way to put a lid on it,” Charlie said.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll step on you and leave a trail of bug juice on the pavement.”
Darby was trying to come up with a response when Lieutenant Grundy and our two crime analysts, Selfie Rogers and Molly Wingate, joined us.
Our new lieutenant had been saddled with the nickname Grumpy, maybe because of his last name and a personality that made me think he and Charlie might be related. Grundy was in his forties, about five seven, and a good thirty pounds overweight. He had brown hair and a bushy moustache that was fading to gray. Our new lieutenant also walked with a slight limp, the result of him taking a bullet a decade earlier when he worked patrol. I’d heard through the grapevine that he was divorced and had a drinking problem, a couple things that were de rigueur for most cops.
Our crime analysts had exclusively been part of Section One, but were now assigned to assist all the detectives at Hollywood Station. Selfie Rogers was in her twenties and looked like someone who had a part time gig in a punk rock band. Today, she had blue hair and at least a dozen piercings in her lips, brows, and nose. Her counterpart was a decade older. Molly Wingate had auburn hair and green eyes. She was the single mother of two young children. We’d become good friends in the months since she’d been assigned to Hollywood Station.
“Let’s get down to business,” Lieutenant Grundy said after acknowledging that Charlie and I would be assisting with the Bratton case. “I want to go over what we know about the murder of the family so everyone’s on the same page.” He looked at Selfie and Molly. “Why don’t you summarize things? Put up the graphics.”
Molly began laying out what we knew. “Laura and Lee Bratton were married in April of 2006. Lee had three children by a prior marriage, Jared, who was thirteen, Carrie, age eleven, and Linda, who was seven when she was murdered three years ago. The couple also have a mutual daughter, Amy, age nine.”
“These are the crime scene photos from Linda’s murder in August of 2013,” Selfie said. “As you can see, she was found asphyxiated in her bed. The coroner determined h
er pillow was used.”
“Who found the body?” Grundy asked.
“Her stepmom, when she went to get her up for school.”
“And the other kids?”
“All in bed asleep, except for Amy.”
“Found in the back yard, with the designation Z-91 tattooed on her inner arm,” Molly said, putting photos of the little girl and close-ups of the tattoo on the overhead monitors.
“Amy was six at the time the crime occurred,” I said. “She was unresponsive, unable to answer the investigator’s questions. Same as the current situation.”
“What was the significance of Z-91?” Grundy asked.
“Unknown. The investigators questioned the parents, the other children, but nobody came up with a reasonable theory. As you probably know, when Amy was found in the back yard yesterday, the tattoo had been recently underlined. The same designation was written on the masks worn by the family members.”
Grundy scratched his head. “What about suspects that came up during the first murder?”
“None, and nothing in the way of cameras or listening devices were found in the residence at that time.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t there,” Charlie said. “Ben Danvers and Sara Reno caught the case.”
“What’s your beef with them?” Darby asked.
“Same as the one I have with you. All talk and no action.”
“Go to hell.”
“Stop right there,” the lieutenant said. He glared at Darby. “Edna said he had you on a short leash. I’m putting you on a choke chain. One more comment and I’m writing paper.”
Darby motioned to Charlie. “What about him?”
Grundy’s gaze found my partner. “Same goes for you, Winkler. Keep it civil or you get a write-up.”
Leo and I glanced at one another, smiling. Our former lieutenant, Henry Edna, had nearly come to blows with Darby Hall. Edna told me he was happy when he was transferred, especially because he no longer had to put up with what he termed “the burr in my butt”.
If he was fazed by what his new lieutenant said, Charlie gave nothing up. He opened a Kit Kat bar and popped a piece in his mouth.
“What about our victim’s ex-wife?” Grundy asked, going back to our case. “Is she in the picture?”
“Marilyn Bratton,” Selfie said. “She now goes by Haller, her maiden name. She lives in Texas, not much involvement with her kids.” She looked at Leo. “I think the notification has already been done.”
“Last night,” Leo confirmed. “She was pretty devastated, but said she was at work all day, something that we confirmed with her supervisor.”
“Let’s move to the current crimes,” Grundy said, exhaling and looking back at Selfie and Molly.
“Molly and I can put up the crime scene photos, if you two want to fill everyone in,” Selfie said, looking at Charlie and me.
I began, telling them about my review of the cold case. “Maybe it was providence, or luck, or just good timing, but something about the murder of Linda Bratton caught my attention. I called and left a message with her father that Charlie and I would be coming by yesterday to talk to him.”
“We found the side door open when we arrived,” Charlie said, glancing up at the overhead monitors. “We announced ourselves. When we got no response, we went in to look around and found the family posed at the dinner table.”
Selfie and Molly had put several crime scene photos on the overhead monitors. It was even more horrifying to see the close-up images of the family sitting at the dinner table wearing masks with the same writing as Amy’s tattoo. The room was silent for a moment as we watched video images panning around the room.
“Looks like somebody got an early start on Halloween,” Darby finally said.
Grundy ignored his detective, looking at Charlie and me. “COD?”
“Unknown,” I said. I looked at our crime analysts. “Any word on the autopsy?”
“Dr. Mumford said they’re scheduled for late in the day today, but couldn’t give me a specific time,” Selfie said.
“That figures,” Leo said. “Mumford works on his own schedule, isn’t very cooperative.”
“Let’s get somebody over there this afternoon, see what he can tell us,” Grundy said. “What else?”
“The mother, Laura, was notified last night and became despondent. She got a knife from the kitchen and made some superficial cuts to her wrist, but it was nothing serious. I checked with mental health and learned she was released to her sister early this morning, so she’s our first stop today.”
“What do we know about the cameras and listening devices?”
“SID is working with computer crimes on that angle,” I said. “We’ll get with them today and see if they have anything.”
Grundy scratched his head again, rubbed his double chin. “So, anybody got any theories about all this?”
“Somebody was mad at daddy,” Darby said. “Three years ago, they sent a message that didn’t take. They came back yesterday and finished the job.”
Grundy scoffed. “And who, in your theory, was angry with him?”
“A jilted lover. This has all the hallmarks of a payback.”
Despite my best efforts, I rolled my eyes. “That doesn’t explain the cameras, listening devices, the tattoo and what was written on the masks, or the fact that somebody was probably watching the family for the past three years.”
Leo agreed with me. “There’s got to be a lot more to this than we currently know.”
I agreed with him, adding, “The father, Lee, was a high-priced attorney. Rumor has it he worked with a lot of celebs and had access to lots of confidential information, so that’s probably an area worth developing.”
“What kind of rumors are you talking about?” Darby asked.
“Just rumors on the street,” I said, not looking at him.
Darby looked at Grundy. “She has priors for sharing information about our cases with her idiot friends. That’s probably where these so-called rumors are coming from.”
I kept my eyes on Grundy. “I’m not sharing anything with anyone.” My gaze slowly moved over to Darby. “And I would appreciate it if you would keep your opinions about my friends to yourself.”
“And I would appreciate it if you acted professionally and kept confidential information confidential.”
“You wouldn’t know professionalism if it bit you on your fat ass.”
“Enough,” Grundy said, shaking his head. “Let’s move ahead on what we’ve discussed.” His eyes fixed on Darby. “And let’s find a way to get along—or else.”
SEVEN
After our meeting broke up, Charlie and I followed Leo and Darby to Malibu, where Laura Bratton and her daughter were staying with her sister, Susan. After I refused to stop for lunch and endured a five-minute silent treatment, Charlie gave me his thoughts on Darby, while Bernie lapped up air from the open rear window.
“I’ve seen bigger assholes, but it was in another lifetime.” He looked at me. “You two have some history, I take it.”
I glanced at him as I turned onto Pacific Coast Highway. “As Taylor Swift would say, we got bad blood. I think he’s just a miserable little dick who gets his kicks by pushing people’s buttons.”
“He pushes another one of mine and he’ll regret it.”
“You’d better watch yourself. I think Grundy means business about writing paper.”
“Lieutenant Grumpy can do whatever he wants.” Charlie looked at me, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “The worst that can happen is I go back to Cold Case or maybe an even colder place called Idaho.”
“You miss retirement?”
“Not really. You can only fish so much, and...”
When he didn’t go on, I said, “And what?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it sounds crazy, but I miss the work, making a difference.”
“It doesn’t sound crazy.”
We drove in silence for a couple minutes before he asked, “Anything breakin
g with your dad’s case or Pearl?”
I filled him in on Pearl contacting his sister and leaving a message on her phone. “Leo’s hoping she’ll forward the message to him and we’ll get some information about what he’s been up to.”
I noticed he was studying his phone and probably hadn’t heard anything I’d said. “Something interesting?”
He put on his reading glasses, started texting and cursing. “Why don’t they make the screens on these phones bigger?”
“You can adjust the font size.”
“Really?”
“I’ll show you when we stop.” I glanced over again and saw he was smiling. “What’s going on?”
“I texted Claudia Johnson. She wants to get together for drinks after work.”
I slowed down as we turned into a condo complex, behind Leo and Darby. I then glanced over at Charlie and saw his smile was still there. “Are you sure you’re ready to get involved with someone again?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
He looked like a hungry wolf as his gaze came over to me. “What Claudia has to offer.”
I just shook my head and bit my tongue, wondering if, when men reached a certain age, a second puberty kicked in. As we stopped in the parking lot next to Leo and Darby, I again remembered that Charlie had recently seen a doctor for some performance problems. I said a silent prayer for Claudia and tried to suppress visual images of my partner mauling her.
After I parked, Charlie gave me his phone and I adjusted the font size, doing my best not to read the messages between him and Claudia.
“Wow,” Charlie said, after taking his phone back. “This might come in handy if Claudia and I want to exchange pictures.”
I ignored him, deciding he was truly hopeless.
“Nice little place if you’ve got about three mil,” Darby said after we met up with him and Leo and we walked to the unit owned by Susan Callaway, Laura Bratton’s sister. The day was overcast, with a fog bank rolling in from the ocean.
