Hollywood Taken_The Hollywood Alphabet Series

by M. Z. Kelly

  “Matrona. Do you know who she is?”

  “Give me a sec.”

  I waited as he continued to scroll screens on the phones and laptop.

  “She’s cloaked,” Grant finally said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s a term, sometimes used in video games, to hide the identity of a player. Her real name is never used.”

  I didn’t respond, feeling defeated.

  Grant went on, examining what he’d found. “There is something else. There’s a Roller who looks like he’s more than that. He’s worked with both Allman and Matrona to move the Swags into the top echelons of the game. He’s the one who gets the names of the A-listers who want girls.”

  “Who is he?”

  Grant looked at me. “Some guy named Lance Worman.”

  SIXTY-ONE

  I was outraged when I learned that the paparazzi my friends were working security for might be behind the blackmail for prostitution ring. I rushed home to ask them what they knew about it, but found they were with Nana, Fred, and Mattie commiserating about their failure to get a permit for their upcoming BS Challenge.

  “I say we go to the reservoir and jump in anyway,” Nana said. “Who’s going to want to arrest a bunch of old farts, a crazy brit, and a woman who’s fat?”

  Mo came over to her, putting her hands on her hips. “I don’t think I heard what you said right. You wanna repeat it?”

  “I said a woman’s who’s a brat,” Nana said, looking at me. “Kate’s a primadonna, and, even if she did show up, she would embarrass us all by showing off her skinny ass.”

  Mo regarded me, then looked back at Nana. “I think I’ve had enough for one night. You three need to hit the road.”

  “That’s no way to treat royalty,” Mattie grumbled as she moved to the door with the others.

  There was some talk of a nude riot from Nana and Fred as they stopped at the door. Before leaving, Fred said to Natalie, “Don’t forget we have another Showdown, Beatdown, this Saturday. And, believe me, you’re going down hard.”

  “We’ll see ‘bout that,” Natalie said. “You’re ‘bout as funny as painful four-hour erection.”

  “Some things come naturally for me,” Fred countered. “And they’re pain free.”

  “Enough,” Mo said, pushing them out onto the porch and slamming the door.

  She locked the door and leaned against it. “If I see them three around here again, I’m not gonna be responsible for what I do. I need a drink, baby sis.”

  Natalie said she would whip up a batch of a Blood Zombies before I said, “I have something important that I need to talk to you both about.”

  “We need us some BZ’s and Gator Balls,” Natalie yelled at Otto who was headed for the kitchen. “I think Kate’s pregnant.” She looked at me. “Blood ‘n Balls, there’s nothing better when you’re up the duff.”

  “Who’s the father?” Mo asked me. “Is it that Dave guy? Did you get drunk and do the stomp ‘n stuff in the vineyard?”

  “No, and I’m not pregnant. This is serious.”

  They followed me into the atrium where I explained about my evening with Grant. I told them that he had looked at the phones and computers connected with my case, and emphasized his involvement was confidential.

  I then said, “Grant thinks one of the high rollers in the blackmail for sex game is none other than your that paparazzi guy you’re working for, Lance Worman.”

  Natalie and Mo looked at one another, their eyes as wide as four full moons.

  “You sure ‘bout this?” Mo asked.

  “Worman’s a big piece of cack,” Natalie said, “but I never suspected anythin’ like this?”

  Otto showed up and placed a tray of appetizers on the table, along with Natalie’s signature drink.

  I went on. “Grant said there’s no doubt. Worman’s been setting up girls with a lot of A-list celebrities and high rollers.”

  “That’s disgustin’,” Mo said, her green wig brushing against her shoulders. She looked at Natalie. “We gotta help bust the guy, baby sis.”

  Natalie looked at me. “He’s got that yacht over at MDR that he stays on most of the time.”

  MDR was Natalie’s abbreviation for Marina Del Rey, a harbor, not far from Hollywood.

  “I need you to hold off on doing anything until I talk to the lieutenant,” I said.

  Mo fixed her dark eyes on me. “You sure? We could get Myrna’s okay to take him down, maybe bring Elmer the Toad in on special ops.”

  “No. You have to promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about this, until I say it’s okay.”

  I got a couple of half-hearted okays, before Natalie helped herself to a Blood Zombie and an appetizer.

  “Try one of these,” she said, popping a Gator Ball into her mouth. “They’re fresh off the boat from Florida.”

  “I didn’t know gators had balls,” I said, picking up one of the appetizers and examining it.

  “They’re not really from gators,” Mo explained. “They’re made outta monkey poo.”

  I dropped it on the dish. “I just lost my appetite.”

  “Kate doesn’t have any balls,” Natalie said to Mo, giggling.

  “If you don’t want balls, try the Blood Zombie,” Mo said, smacking her lips after downing one. “They’re guaranteed to raise the dead.”

  I tried the drink and found it was surprisingly fruity and refreshing.

  Mo went on about Lance Worman. “Now that I think about it, the big piece of sludge spends a lot of time in the office on his yacht. I thought he was just tracking celebs for photo shoots, but it looks like he was playing super-pimp.”

  “Do you know who stays with him on his boat?” I asked, already feeling the effects of my drink.

  “He’s got a small crew and a secretary, Lisa the Wonder Bitch,” Natalie said. Her eyes grew so wide that, for an instant, I thought she’d seen a ghost. “I just realized somethin’. She’s got an accent. I think she might be Russian.“

  “We gotta take her and Worman down,” Mo said.

  I realized the Blood Zombie had hit me hard as I said, “Remember your p...promise to stay out of things until I check with the l...lieutenant. Let’s talk about this in the m...morning.” I stood, wobbled, and said, “It’s been a long day. I’m going to head up to bed.”

  As I left, my friends shouted out comments about me not having any balls and being one of the walking dead. I fell into bed with my clothes on, thoughts of Zombies, balls, and paparazzi filling my head before it was lights out.

  ***

  The next morning, I woke up feeling like I had actually died and become a zombie. Then I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and confirmed that I was no longer among the living. My eyes were bright red, my face was sallow, and my hair was sticking straight up on one side of my head, like a giant cow had licked me. What the hell was in that drink?

  After a twenty-minute shower, I dressed and took a couple of pain killers. I felt better, like I was maybe half-human and half-zombie, as I headed downstairs. When I didn’t see Natalie or Mo, I asked Otto about them.

  “They left rather abruptly, madam. I believe they said something about an operation at the marina, whatever that means.”

  “Shit,” I said, pulling out my phone as I got Bernie on his leash. I dashed to my car, trying to reach my friends, but my call went to voice mail.

  As I drove to the station, I tried to formulate a plan. I needed to explain why I’d checked the phones and Ben Allman’s laptop out of CCU and how I’d found evidence of Lance Worman’s involvement. As I pulled into the parking lot, it struck me that sometimes the only way to cover your tracks is to play a bluff.

  I pulled Leo, Al, Jenny, and Molly into Lieutenant Byrd’s office, where I took several deep breaths, pushed down my throbbing headache, and began laying out my story.

  “I’ve been spending some of my spare time studying computers, specifically software encryption, file data corruption, and deletion hi
story. To make a long story short, I was able to retrieve some of the deleted data on the phones and computer belonging to Donna Roberts and Ben Allman. I learned that Lance Worman, the owner of Razzi’s, has been involved in what’s been happening. He’s a Roller that Ben Allman was using to pair some of the so-called Swags to the A-listers and power players in Hollywood.”

  The barrage of questions began, with Lieutenant Byrd leading the way. “You want us to believe that you single-handedly retrieved data that CCU couldn’t?”

  “Like I said, computers have become a hobby.” I took a breath and smiled. “And, maybe I got a little lucky.”

  “Lucky,” Al said. “If it’s true, it’s like you won the lottery. None of this makes any sense.”

  “You sure you haven’t involved someone else in this?” Byrd said.

  I felt like a matador, sidestepping a charging bull as I improvised. “As I told you, I have a friend who’s a computer guru. He told me about some software and helped me understand the analytical process, but I’m here on my own.”

  “Kate’s a whiz when I’ve got a problem with my iPhone,” Olivia said, seeing my distress, and trying to defend me.

  Leo spoke up. “The details don’t matter at this point. What does matter is Kate may have cracked this case wide-open.”

  “There’s something else you all need to know,” I said. “My friends, Natalie and Mo, are working security on Lance Worman’s yacht. I think they suspect his involvement and may be headed there as we speak.”

  “Don’t tell me you told them about everything?” Byrd said.

  “They’re very intuitive,” I said, stretching the truth one more time. “Worman has a yacht in Marina Del Rey. I think we should head over there now.”

  SIXTY-TWO

  As Olivia and I drove to Marina Del Rey with Bernie, followed by Leo, Al, and the lieutenant, she glanced at me and said, “You want to tell me about it?”

  She was asking how I’d obtained the information about Worman from the phones and his computer. “I’d tell you, but it’s better if I don’t.”

  She nodded. “I’ve rumors heard about Lance Worman being a womanizer, but this takes things to a whole other level.”

  “He’s scum and he’s going down. I just hope we can get information about Matrona out of him.”

  “And Natalie and Mo? Do you think they’ll back off and let us handle things?”

  I glanced at her. “I think the chances of that are the same as me becoming the world’s greatest computer expert.”

  Someone once told me that what happens in the world is either a matter of divine providence or dumb luck. I think the latter was in play this morning. We arrived at Lance Worman’s yacht, only to find Natalie and Mo standing guard on the dock.

  My friends were wearing their bad-ass PI gear as Mo folder her arms and said to me, “Agent Bump and me have secured the premises. You’ll find your target on the upper deck at the stern of the ship.”

  “We woulda taken him down,” Natalie added, “but we decided to make this a joint operation.” She winked at me before I turned and saw Lieutenant Byrd doing a giant eye-roll.

  “I’ll need you both to wait here,” I said. “Do you know who else is on the yacht?”

  Mo answered. “Just a couple of crew members and the chef. Not sure about Lisa the Bitch.”

  Since we didn’t have a search or arrest warrant, we used Natalie and Mo’s invitation to enter the yacht, ostensibly to talk to Worman. When the owner of Razzi’s saw us, he had other things on his mind.

  “Jimmy, get a camera,” Worman yelled. “This is unlawful entry.”

  Worman was wiry, with a thin build, sparse brown hair, and furtive dark eyes. The word weasel came to mind as his crew member began filming us and Worman ran and jumped up on the rail of his yacht. Bernie, sensing what was happening, began barking, only adding to the drama of the situation.

  “We just want to talk,” I said to Worman. “Please come down. We don’t want you to fall.”

  Worman ignored me, telling his crew member, “Move in, Jimmy. I don’t want any of this action missed.” He looked into the camera. “I’m the subject of harassment and intimidation by the police. They have no right...”

  Worman frantically began waving his arms, trying to regain his balance, but fell back. He hit the water with a big splash, all of it captured on camera. He began thrashing around in the water, yelling, “I was pushed. They’re trying to kill me.”

  I heaved out a breath and went over to him cameraman, Jimmy. “Do me a favor. Turn off the camera and get a rope, so we can get your idiot boss out of the water.”

  It took us twenty minutes and lots of cussing on Worman’s part before we got him back on the boat. After determining that his assistant Lisa, last name unknown, but probably not, The Bitch, was not aboard, I told Worman we were going to transport him to Hollywood Station for questioning.

  The owner of Razzi’s went on another meltdown. “This is harassment, false imprisonment, and police brutality. I want a lawyer.”

  Lieutenant Byrd came over as Leo and Al were leading Worman off the boat. “I’m sure this will all be on the six o’clock news.”

  I smiled. “Everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame, whether they want it or not.”

  He scowled. “I don’t want it. Wait until Bronson hears about this shit storm.”

  ***

  The lieutenant’s comment about Bronson brought my request to see Harlee Ryland to mind again when we got back to the station. I’d been formulating a plan and put it into place as we waited for Worman to be transported to an interview room. I first called Joe Dawson, telling him what I had in mind.

  “I’m game, if you are,” Joe said, “but, as you know, it’s up to Greer.”

  “Just tell him to expect the call. We’ll see how things play out from there.”

  “Will do. How are things with you?”

  It was the first time we’d talked since he’d told me that he loved me. “They’re good. Just trying to wrap up a case.” I then told him what else was on my mind, choosing my words carefully. “I just wanted to thank-you for what you said the other day. I want you to know that you’re also one of my best friends.”

  “Only one of them?”

  “I was thinking about Natalie and Mo. They’re on a different plane.”

  He chuckled. “That’s for sure.”

  We chatted about my case for a couple minutes, before he said, “Let me know when things settle down. Maybe we can get together.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I was about to end the call when he said, “You be careful. I worry about you.”

  His words made me realize our relationship had reached a new and different level. “You too. Take care.”

  After ending the call, I got my friend, Cynthia McFadden on the line. Cynthia was a good friend who worked for the Herald-Press, someone I knew would keep what I had to say confidential. She knew all about my family history and my brother, Daniel.

  After some chit-chat, I got down to business. “I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Just name it.”

  “I’d like you call John Greer. He’s the head of the FBI’s taskforce that’s been dealing with Harlee Ryland.”

  “I’ve heard of him. What’s up?”

  I went on for a moment, asking her to suggest to Greer that, given my history with Harlee Ryland, it might be worthwhile for me to talk to her.

  “And, maybe also learn something about Daniel?”

  “You read my mind. You might also mention that my department needs to be brought on board with this and ask him to make a call.”

  “Bronson?”

  “You got it.”

  “Consider it done.”

  After ending the call, Molly stopped by my workstation. “I got the name of Lance Worman’s assistant. She goes by Lisa, but her real name is Vasilisa Popov. She’s originally from Kursk. It’s a city in Russia, just across the border from the Ukraine. She’s been in thi
s country about five years.”

  Since both Anna Levkin and Chloe Foster were from the Ukraine, it seemed possible that both women could have been recruited by Popov.

  “Thanks, Molly,” I said. “Let me follow up on this.”

  I then met with Olivia about our interview with Lance Worman.

  “Worman’s going to lawyer up,” Olivia said, “so it’s probably going to be a short interview.”

  I rubbed my temples, still feeling the throbbing. “Maybe we should play this differently.”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  I told her what Molly had found out about Worman’s assistant. “Maybe Lance is willing to throw Popov to the wolves.”

  Olivia raised a brow. “Knowing him, it’s probably our best option.”

  Since I’d been able to piece together Worman’s, and likely Popov’s, involvement in our case, Lieutenant Byrd made the decision to let Olivia and me conduct the interview.

  “Let’s get to the sleazeball before he gets his lawyer here, for what it’s worth,” Byrd said.

  After making arrangement for Leo and Al to once again watch Bernie, Olivia and I entered the interview room.

  “Where’s my lawyer?” Worman demanded as we took seats across from him.

  “You tell us, since you made the phone call,” I said. “But before he gets here and we read you your rights, let us lay something out for you.”

  Worman folded his thin arms across his chest and blew out a breath. “What’s that?”

  I let Olivia put pieces on the chessboard.

  “Let me cut to the chase,” Olivia began. “We know that Ben Allman was the Pro, Jason Murray and others were the Matchmakers. Along the way there were Daisies, Swags, and Expendables. The game is called Prank.”

  Sweat started to form on Worman’s forehead and he started to say something, but Olivia’s voice rose, cutting him off. “We have evidence on phones and computers that you were involved, along with a woman named Matrona. I have a hunch that Matrona is none other than your assistant, Vasilisa Popov. Now, if you want to start talking and save yourself a lifetime in San Quinten Prison, we’re willing to listen. Otherwise, you can lawyer up until you eventually go down for the murders of Anna Levkin and Zoe Saldana.”