by M. Z. Kelly
Zoe went into the kitchen where she got a pen and paper from a drawer. She sat at the table, taking her time. The message she planned to leave would explain to her parents in general terms what had been happening. Maybe there were other girls somewhere that Marcus and Marsha had manipulated into their sickening game. If there were, she prayed that her message would help them. It would be her final act of compassion in a world that had shown her none.
Zoe left the note on the kitchen table and went into the bathroom. She stripped off all her clothing and went over to the vanity. She found the straight razors she had seen before at the back of the drawer. She didn’t know why they were there, maybe her father had used them at one time. She ran a finger across one of the blades, crying out when she cut her finger.
She then took the razors over to the bathtub and ran the water. The warm water was almost to the top when she slipped into the tub. She lay back for a long moment, trying to forget everything that had happened. Then the images slipped back into her mind. She again saw the photos on her phone and remembered the terrible things the man had made her do.
Zoe reached over and took one of the razor blades off a nearby table. The pain was intense when she cut into her wrists, causing her to cry out. After a long moment, the pain became less intense. She looked down as the red liquid poured out of her body and began filling up the bathtub. Her thoughts then drifted to her mother. She managed to reach over and find her phone on the table, punching in the number for her mother.
“Zoe, is that you?” she heard her mother saying.
Zoe’s emotions flooded through her. She was overcome with torment, unable to speak.
“What’s happening, Zoe?” she heard her mother saying. “Are you okay?”
Her world was fading to black, as Zoe finally found her voice. “I’m...okay, mama. I just...I wanted to...say goodbye.”
TWENTY-FOUR
I woke up a little after midnight, hearing thunder. Wait a minute, this was Hollywood. It almost never thundered. The thunder rolled again, this time coming from downstairs. The fog in my head cleared and I realized it was Natalie’s Aunt Mattie. She was snoring, the sound like something from a mountain thunderstorm. It was so loud that even Bernie got out of bed and came over to me, turning his head toward the door, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
I put my pillow over my head and lay there, waves of thunder continuing to crash. I was about to get up and tell Natalie she had to do something when my phone chimed. I saw the call was from Olivia.
“They found a body in the LA River,” Olivia said. “It looks like it might be Jason Murray. I can pick you up in twenty.” There was a great thunderous roar again. “What’s that?”
“I’ll explain when you get here. I’ll meet you on the porch in front of the house.”
I took a quick shower, slipped into my clothes, and took Bernie downstairs where I found my friends in the living room, with Otto. I started to ask them what was going on when there was more thunder.
When it ended, I said to Natalie, “Is that really your aunt?”
She nodded. “She’s got some kinda bloody medical condition. Mo and me tried everything from a gag to putting a pillow over her face. Nothing works and she won’t wake up.”
“I vote we put the pillow on her again and don’t let up,” Mo said.
It was one of the few times I’d seen Mo without her wig. She looked exhausted, not to mention homicidal.
“I’ve got something breaking on my case,” I said. “Can you watch Bernie?”
Otto answered. “I’d be happy to mind him for you.” There was a rapid fire explosion of thunder from the bedroom. When it let up, he said, “Perhaps we should consider installing some sound proofing.”
I looked at my friends. “I’ll let you handle things, but you’ve got to do something. We can’t live like this.”
As I was leaving, I heard Mo say, “Maybe we should use a weapon of mass suction on her.”
“What have you got in mind?” Natalie said.
“We can hold her down and use the bathroom plunger on her ‘till she stops.”
They were headed for the bathroom as I closed the door.
When Olivia arrived, she saw that all the lights were on in the house and asked me what was going on.
“We’ve got a plumbing problem,” I said, chuckling. “Natalie and Mo are using a plunger on the thunder.”
Olivia looked at me like I was crazy, so I took a couple of minutes telling her about Aunt Mattie and her snoring problem. After we shared some laughs, the conversation turned serious and I asked her about our victim.
“There’s no ID on the body, but one of the responding officers thinks he matches the mug shot of Murray that went out with the BOLO. Not sure about the cause of death.”
“If it is Murray, I hope it stops the killings.”
Olivia glanced at me. “That’s not likely if he’s working with a human trafficking ring. They’ll just get someone else to take his place.”
I knew what she said was likely. “Maybe Murray was working in tandem with the guy who calls himself Marcus.”
Olivia nodded. “Unless Marcus was, in fact, Murray. Did you hear anything back from HTU?”
I nodded. “They basically confirmed what we already know, that they’re operating in the city. They’re working on trying to ID those involved and will let us know.”
The LA River had undergone a renovation in recent years. What had once essentially been a cement drainage ditch in many places had been revitalized with walking and bicycling paths, small parks, and seasonal boating. The area where we found our victim was just off the interstate near Atwater Village, about twenty minutes from Hollywood. The water level was low at this time of year, with a lot of marshy areas.
After parking, Olivia and I met up with a uniformed officer who led us down to the riverbed.
“The body was found by a homeless guy who was looking for a place to camp,” the officer explained. “Not sure about the cause of death, but there are some marks on the body.”
“What kind of marks?” Olivia asked, as we saw there were lights up ahead where another officer was stationed.
The officer slowed down as we moved through the swampy area. “Not sure, but, just offhand, it looks like he was whipped.”
When we got to the area where the body was located, we took some time, asking the officers to cordon off the area. We then gloved up and made a preliminary examination of the nude body. The victim was lying on his side. From what we could see without moving him there were several deep lacerations on his back that did look like they could have been inflicted by some kind of whip or cutting instrument. There were no other obvious signs of trauma.
“Let’s compare the mug,” Olivia said.
I held the mugshot up as Olivia turned the body and illuminated the decedents face.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Can’t be sure, but I were placing bets, I’d say we’ve found our suspect.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Let’s get prints when SID and the coroner arrives.”
We spent the next couple hours, securing the area where the body was located while working the scene with SID staff and the coroner.
The examiner, a physician named Melvin Markham, confirmed what we had previously thought. “The lacerations are extremely deep. I can’t be sure what kind of cutting instrument was used until I get him on the table, but it caused him to bleed out. The wounds were inflicted elsewhere and the body was dumped here.”
Reginald Brady, one of the SID staff, was more specific about the cause of death.
“I worked a case about a year ago where the victim had similar injuries,” Brady said. “I think a knout could have been used on him.”
“A what?” I said.
“A knout. It’s a whip that was used in ancient times to flog criminals. It’s basically a lash, formed of leather and curved, with two sharp edges along its entire length. The end consists of an iron hook. The
instrument is long, so that it laps around the body and cuts deep into the flesh, basically destroying the back. It was used by executioners to kill a victim by lapping him around and cutting the lungs and heart.”
Olivia glanced back at the body. “And, the case you worked previously, was the suspect ever caught?”
Brady shook his head. “We could never get enough evidence to prosecute, but we had no doubt who did it. The guy worked with the Russian Mob.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“We found this about a hundred yards up river,” one of the SID technicians said, handing me a backpack a short time later. “Not sure if it’s connected to our victim.”
Olivia and I took the backpack over to a bench along the river walk. We gloved up and looked through the contents, finding Jason Murray’s wallet and driver’s license.
“Bingo,” I said, showing Olivia the cell phone I found in a side compartment.
I took a couple minutes, scrolling through the phone, then told Olivia, “The photos and video of Anna Levkin are here, along with those of another girl, someone named Zoe.”
“That’s one of the girls Terry Wilson told us about. Do we have any details about her?”
I took another, minute, going through several texts. “He ordered her to go to the Vista Cortez Hotel last night or said he would release her photos to her friends. She texted him back, saying she would be there.” I looked at Olivia. “It’s after three in the morning. Do you think we should call her?”
“I don’t think we have a choice. If he’s been threatening her and blackmailing her with photos like Anna, her life is in jeopardy.”
I agreed and used my own phone to call Zoe’s number. It rang several times before a woman answered.
“Is this Zoe?” I asked.
“Who’s calling?” the woman asked.
“This is Detective Sexton with LAPD. I need to talk to you about the man that’s been threatening you.”
There was a long pause before the woman came back on the line. “This is Officer Dani Morgan with Whittier PD. We’re working the suicide of a girl named Zoe Saldana. You might want to meet us here at her residence so we can talk.”
“What’s going on?” Olivia asked, after I jotted down the address and ended the call.
A sense of despair washed over me. “We’re too late. Zoe is dead.”
***
We got to the Saldana’s home in Whittier a little before four in the morning and met with Officer Morgan on the street in front of the small tract home. Morgan was probably in her late twenties, with short brown hair and dark eyes.
“The girl’s parents and brother aren’t doing well,” Morgan told us. “We’ve called the mother’s sister to come over, but I think we’re going to need medical intervention. She’s...”
Morgan was cut off by screaming from inside the residence. We rushed inside and found a middle aged Hispanic woman, who I assumed was Zoe Saldana’s mother, in the master bedroom holding a gun to her head.
“Don’t do this,” her husband pleaded with her. A young man, probably their son, was nearby, crying.
“You need to put the gun down,” Morgan’s partner told the woman. He was an older man, probably in his fifties, with a calm demeanor. “Your sister will be here soon. You don’t want her to find you like this.”
“My baby killed herself. I got nothing to live for.”
The woman pulled the trigger, but the weapon didn’t go off. Officer Morgan and her partner, rushed over, wrestling the gun from her hand. It took us several minutes, but we managed to get Zoe’s mother back under control. We were grateful when her sister and medical personnel arrived shortly thereafter.
While they were tending to Saldana, Officer Morgan showed us the heartbreaking scene of their suicide victim. She was in the bathtub with her wrists slashed. There was blood everywhere.
After leaving the body, we met up in the living room where Olivia said, “Did the girl leave a note?”
Morgan nodded as we walked over to the kitchen. She showed us the note on the table. “It looks like she was being threatened by someone. What can you tell me about her?”
Olivia and I read Zoe Saldana’s suicide note. It was heartbreaking, the girl explaining that a man who called himself Marcus and a woman named Marsha were making her do what she said were terrible things. The letter ended with Zoe telling her parents that she loved them and would someday see them in heaven.
I took a breath, pushing down my emotions. Olivia and I then took several minutes, updating Officer Morgan and her partner, Larry Reynolds, on our homicide case.
We ended the discussion by Olivia telling the officers, “We believe there may have been other girls that were being manipulated. It might also be that a Russian sex trafficking ring is connected to what’s been happening.”
The sun was coming up by the time Olivia and I left the Saldana’s home. The street had been blocked off when the crime scene technicians and the coroner had arrived to work the scene.
“It looks like we have a lot of work ahead of us on this one,” Olivia said as we stopped on the sidewalk.
I was about to respond when I heard a voice behind me. “Everyone but your partner has worked to do.”
I turned, seeing that Captain Van Ness was on the sidewalk.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“You’re off the case. Monday morning you start work with Napa PD.”
TWENTY-SIX
“I appreciate you taking care of Bernie,” I told my brother the next day at his hair salon after he’d agreed to watch Bernie while I was in Napa.
It was Saturday, and I was determined to look my best for tonight’s date with Grant. Robin’s salon, called Sinclair’s, was in the trendy Melrose shopping district. He had a lot of wealthy clientele, including several celebrities.
I went on. “The department won’t let me take Bernie to Napa because they don’t allow canines to work homicide.”
Robin had trimmed and shampooed my hair, and now was using conditioner. “What’s the case you’ll be working up north?”
“All I know is there’s a missing woman who may have been a homicide victim. I’m not happy about being sent away. I’ve been working that nanny case I mentioned and there’s lots of loose ends.”
“I saw on the news that guy they found dead was wanted for killing your victim.”
“Yes, but we think there were others involved, maybe even a Russian group that’s trafficking girls.”
“Russians? I have a couple of customers from that country. I could ask if they know anything.”
“Sure, but leave me out of the conversation since I’m officially off the case. If you find out anything, I’ll pass it on to my partner.”
As he rinsed my hair, Robin mentioned Otto. “His date with the guy he met online was last night. Did you hear how it went?”
“I don’t think it was a match made in heaven. Otto came home early and went straight to bed. I asked him about it this morning and he said something about the guy having expectations he wasn’t ready for.”
“I was afraid that might happen. His date was about a decade younger than him. I think Otto needs someone more mature, who shares his interests.”
“Do you have anyone in mind?”
As he towel-dried my hair, he said, “No, but I’ll ask around.” He then changed the subject, asking about my friends and Natalie’s aunt.
“They left for San Francisco early this morning. I won’t be surprised if Mo ends up arrested for homicide.”
He chuckled. “Why is that?”
“Natalie’s aunt has the world’s worst snoring problem. I think they were going to get separate rooms, but I’m not sure that will help. She sounds like a jet taking off.”
We continued to chat about my friends and Natalie’s aunt while he dried my hair. As he styled it, he asked about Daniel.
“Nothing new. Did you have a chance to go by that hotel where he was staying in Studio City?”
“I went by th
ere yesterday. I didn’t get much out of the manager, but I chatted up one of the clerks who’s gay. He said he and Daniel talked on a couple of occasions. He thinks he was pretty much a lost soul, very lonely.”
I felt my emotions surfacing. “That’s the impression I got from the tape he left me. I wish I knew what happened to him.”
“I haven’t given up on finding him. If we have a brother out there who’s still alive, I want to have a beer with him and talk about our crazy family.”
I smiled. “Count me in.”
***
I met Grant at a Winston’s, a lounge about a block from the ocean in Santa Monica. The place had a nice vibe, with a group that was playing some jazz standards from the last century. I felt a little like I’d gone back in time as we settled in at a table at the back of the establishment where we could talk.
“I come here about once a month,” Grant said after we ordered drinks.
My date was even more handsome than I remembered. I decided his tousled brown hair was a permanent fixture, along with his attire that was casual and unpretentious. It made me glad I’d worn slacks and a blouse, not the dress my friends had picked out for me.
Grant went on. “Like I told you before, I’m a nerd, so this place fits me.” His blue eyes shifted toward the musical group and he smiled. “Billy Eckstine.”
“Who?”
“Sorry.” He smiled, his eyes fixing on me again. “He’s singing September Song. It was one of Eckstine’s best.”
“Oh.” I looked over at the group. “I don’t know much about old music, but I love the song.”
“Told you I’m a nerd.”
I chuckled as the server came over with our drinks. “I doubt that.”
We had each ordered wine, Grant choosing a Riesling, while I had a Merlot. After we clinked glasses and tasted our drinks, he went on. “I even play video games.” He must have seen my brows go up. “Told you, I’m a certifiable geek.”
