The Case of the Rising Star

by Zavo

  Synopsis

  A young and famous movie star is receiving death threats, and Derrick is on the case. Without warning, Warren O’Malley, Derrick’s long-forgotten half-brother, arrives in Los Angeles, bringing with him his two formidable younger brothers. The trio is determined to claim their rightful place in the Steele family, or destroy them in the process. With Warren’s arrival comes a dark secret from Daniel McAllister’s past, one that Daniel is unwilling to reveal. As the tension between Derrick and Daniel begins to unravel their relationship, it also begins to threaten the detective agency itself. When Derrick realizes he is falling in love with the young movie star, he faces a heartbreaking decision. Will Derrick be able to save the young star in time? Can the Steeles pull together as a family to stave off this new series of threats? Will this be the end of the famous Steele Detective Agency?

  The Case of the Rising Star: A Derrick Steele Mystery

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  The Case of the Rising Star: A Derrick Steele Mystery

  © 2013 By Zavo. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-927-5

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: July 2013

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Greg Herren and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  Derrick Steele, Private Dick:

  The Case of the Hollywood Hustlers

  The Case of the Rising Star: A Derrick Steele Mystery

  To my partner, Gary.

  Chapter One

  I had just stepped out of the office and was turning to lock the door when I saw the flash of a person out of the corner of my eye. I started turning in that direction, reaching for my Walther at the same time, when I felt a blinding pain behind my left ear. Several smells assaulted me at once when I came to: fish, salt, my own sweat, and the unmistakable odor of blood. I was guessing it was my own. At first I thought I was in a dark room, but as my senses struggled to return to normal, I realized I was blinded by some soft, silky material, most likely a scarf. I was also naked and sitting in a chair, my arms bound securely behind me. I could feel the coolness of the wooden seat against my balls. Starting with my head, I began moving my body to determine the extent of my injuries. My examination revealed the expected tenderness behind my left ear, and the fact my legs were bound as well. I ceased my struggles and listened intently, straining to pick up any telltale sounds that could help identify my location. Complete silence engulfed me, as if I was in an underground tomb. My heart began racing in my chest. Had I been left here to starve to death or, worse, perhaps eaten alive by rats?

  A sudden, slight noise took my mind away from such dire thoughts. It was the creak from an unoiled door being opened. A wisp of air passed over me, seeming to confirm my theory. The sound of footsteps drew near and I caught the faint scent of a man’s cologne, one that seemed oddly familiar. He stopped directly in front of me. He didn’t speak, but I could hear him breathing.

  “Hello, Derrick Steele.”

  My heart sank in my chest. It was Antonio DiMarco. There was no mistaking his voice.

  “Did you really think you were going to get away with trying to bring Lionel Hamilton to justice, Derrick? I was sent into hiding on purpose, just in case his plan fell through. My orders were to lay low for a few weeks and strike back at you when you least expected it. But before I kill you, I’m going to take what’s rightfully mine. What I should have had a long time ago.”

  I was certain I knew what he had in mind, but remained silent.

  As I strained against the ropes binding me, Antonio removed my blindfold. He didn’t look any different from the last time I had seen him. He spat into his right hand and knelt in front of me. Grabbing my cock firmly, he expertly brought me to a full erection. There was simply no way I could ignore the talents of his hand.

  “I never figured you for a cocksucker, Antonio.”

  “You never gave me the time of day, Derrick. You were all hot and bothered for Michael Grogan. The one time I did approach you for a little action, you turned me down. I would have gladly reciprocated if given the chance.”

  He spread my legs roughly and pulled me forward on the seat, forcing the ropes to dig cruelly into my arms and legs. This also forced my balls off the chair and placed my straining dick within inches of his face. I felt his breath on the head of my cock, then the warm wetness of his mouth. He began bobbing in earnest. Hated or not, the man knew what he was doing. It wasn’t long before I felt my explosion building. I cried out when I began spewing into the man’s mouth, only to realize Daniel was suddenly standing beside me.

  “Daniel, please help me.”

  He only smiled in answer.

  I was suddenly awake, bathed in sweat and in my own bed. I was glad to find Daniel was sound asleep beside me. The sheets were entwined in my legs. It had only been a dream.

  Two weeks had passed since the bloody shootout at Lionel Hamilton’s estate. Since then, I’d been having trouble steering my thoughts away from the kidnapping. If not for the quick thinking and police instincts of Lieutenant Michael Grogan, my lifelong friend, I would have been killed instead of rescued. In the resulting shootout, several competent police officers had been killed. Many of Lionel’s henchmen had been gunned down as well, including Angus O’Malley, former senior investigator at Steele Investigations. Almost too late I had discovered Angus’s connection to Lionel. Angus, who had worked for my father for years and had been his best friend.

  Theodore “Teddy” Stillson, who owned a competing detective agency in Los Angeles, had also been involved in the murder plot. That piece also stung. Theodore and I had once been involved—but he had become my nemesis in the years leading up to the crime. He was now behind bars, and there for a very long time. I’d thought about going to see him, but there wasn’t any point. I doubted his hatred of me had abated this soon.

  Especially since his detective agency had closed its doors within days of his incarceration.

  However, one of the biggest pieces of the puzzle was still missing: Sergeant Antonio DiMarco. There had been no new leads on my former childhood friend turned sworn enemy.

  Antonio had left town several days before the raid, supposedly to attend a family funeral. There had been no death in the family, and neither his friends nor his family had seen him since. After the raid Michael had informed me the police had found financial paperwork at Hamilton’s estate linking the two men. Apparently, Antonio had been on Hamilton’s payroll for several years. I had no doubt I’d hear from him again. His hatred of me ran deep. It would have increased tenfold since I’d escaped the fate Hamilton had planned for me.

  Antonio would certainly want his pound of flesh. Was he even now plotting his revenge against me, and perhaps my family as well? I would need to be extra vigilant. However, I had to keep my mind from going down this path once again. It always led me straight to the bourbon, as many things seemed to t
hese days. Never a teetotaler, I’d been hitting it pretty hard since my rescue. Several of Hamilton’s muscle guys were still on the loose as well.

  Almost on a nightly basis since the raid, I’d been having nightmares about my capture and the bloody gun battle. Different scenarios played out each night. In one, I hadn’t been rescued, and awakened as bullets from Lionel’s gun ripped into me. In another, both my father and Nathan had been killed at the party from which I had been kidnapped. Several of the nightmares had involved Randall, my former lover and Lionel Hamilton’s son. In those, Randall was still alive, and trying to rescue me.

  Only to be gunned down by his own father.

  I hadn’t told my parents or Nathan about my dreams, but of course Daniel knew. We had continued growing closer, and he was not only my lover but my personal confidant and friend. He held me and consoled me on those nights when my tossing and turning, or loud cries, had awakened him. He’d also awakened several times to find me missing from our bed. Each time he’d discovered me in the billiards room, smoking cigarettes and calming my nerves with bourbon.

  Daniel patiently and repeatedly suggested I seek some type of counseling—even offering to go with me. But I refused. He also suggested we take some time off—perhaps a relaxing trip to some sunny or exotic locale. I’d rejected this idea as well. I knew what I had to do. I had to stay and exorcise my demons on my own. It was the way it had to be. Perhaps it was my regrets over an ill-led life. But I had been on a good path since I had begun working at Steele Investigations. Well, maybe not good, but at least not as bad as before. Was I struggling to become someone I couldn’t or, more importantly, shouldn’t be?

  Maybe I was simply tired of all this fucking introspection.

  When I arrived at work later that morning, I was glad to see none of the family cars parked at the curb. It would give me time to inspect our new building alone and get a feel for my new office. Although Daniel, Nathan, and I had checked on the progress several times over the past few weeks, Mother had asked us to stay away for a week till she had everything decorated. We’d continued to work out of the old office, which I swear still had the lingering odor of O’Malley. All pertinent files had been moved in the past two days. We had purchased all new furniture and hired a new secretary, Betty Hudson.

  Steele Investigations was ready for business in its new location.

  I parked at the curb and unlocked the front door. Inside, I was assailed by the smells of paint, cleaning products, and new wood. The office was very spacious. Betty’s desk was just inside the front door, with a half dozen leather chairs and a solid coffee table forming a waiting area. There were five offices—one for each of us—with two more remaining for new detectives as we grew. Between them was a good-sized meeting room for clients, and a small kitchen. There was also a small darkroom in Nathan’s office.

  My mother had added her touches to the office. Potted plants were placed strategically, so as not to overwhelm any one area. Tasteful artwork had been hung in all the offices and in the conference room. Little glass, stone and wood objets d’ art adorned surfaces here and there. Mother had done an outstanding job.

  The radio advertising Nathan implemented had proven effective, and work was starting to pour in. It didn’t hurt that word was also being spread by the officers at the 69th Precinct—specifically, by Lieutenant Michael Grogan. The press coverage resulting from the Hamilton case hadn’t hurt, either. We were getting a lot of referrals—so many, in fact, that we needed to hire at least one more detective, and possibly two. Nathan had been fielding calls and conducting some initial interviews.

  Due to my many sleepless nights, and my bourbon consumption, I’d been hard-pressed to consistently focus on my current caseload.

  I was just turning to leave when the door opened and Betty walked in. She was a friend of my mother’s, and a recent widow. She had many years of experience as a secretary and had received a glowing recommendation from my mother. She’d worked for a week at the old office and was very pleased to be in the new building.

  “Good morning, Derrick. How are you this fine morning?”

  Upon hiring Betty, we’d insisted she use our first names.

  “I’m good, Betty. And yourself?”

  “Who can complain on such a beautiful day? Do you know when Nathan and Daniel will be in?”

  “I expect any time now, Betty.”

  “Okay. I’ll get the percolator started.”

  “I’m actually headed out on a case, Betty. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, Derrick. I’ll see you then.”

  Betty headed to the small kitchen to make coffee, and I grabbed my camera before stepping out into the fresh air and sunshine. When I reached my car I opened the trunk and placed the camera inside. I drove along the highway for a while because I had time to kill before diving into my current case. After leaving the highway I headed into the downtown area and began cruising the streets. I loved Los Angeles. As I drove I relished the sun and the warm morning breeze on my face.

  Naturally, I couldn’t help but notice the numerous handsome young men plying their trade on several street corners. I knew many of them by name. Others were fresh faces, which set my mind to racing and my pulse to pounding and got my loins stirring. I willed myself to not stop and sample the services. Or ask about prices, or to simply say a quick “Hello, are you new in town?”

  Although price had never been an issue. I wasn’t afraid to pay for the good stuff. A fresh-faced young man simply wasn’t what I needed right now. Apparently not for the past several weeks, either. Hustlers had brought me and those around me nothing but pain and death. In addition to the lives lost during the shootout, I was still dealing with the deaths of the three young hustlers who had all been killed on the orders of Lionel Hamilton, to discredit me and frame me as their killer.

  Killed by the hand of the father of my ex-lover, Randall.

  Randall, who himself had turned to prostitution to support his drug habit. In the end, Randall had also taken his life in my bathroom.

  It read like a sleazy dime novel. It made me sick to think about it.

  I drove aimlessly for another half hour as my mind replayed the events of the night of the raid on one continuous reel. Without realizing it, I was approaching the Valentino Theater. Valentino had been one of the early greats. I’d been a big fan. Many a night had been spent here, endlessly watching movies and getting good and drunk. That’s when it hit me: I would kill some time watching a motion picture!

  The Valentino was one of the first motion picture theaters built in this section of town. It was my personal favorite. It showed movies around the clock, often the same one several times in succession, or rotating with another, for several hours. Even though it was late morning, all of its marquee lights were fully, garishly lit. I pulled to the curb and turned off the Roadster. It was relatively quiet on this particular street for this time of day. As I exited my car, I noticed two young men, a little distance apart, lounging about ten feet from the twin sets of double theater doors. I didn’t give the larger of the two a second glance. The shorter, but more muscular, of the two I recognized as a hustler—one I had paid for on several occasions. His name was Jacob, and he was well worth his price. Surely he was going to recognize me.

  The old familiar longing hit me like a blow again. I pushed it way down deep inside me with great effort. I was determined to stay true to my conviction that all hustlers were bad news and must be avoided. Hadn’t they, in a roundabout way, nearly cost me my life? As I walked to the ticket booth, I could feel Jacob’s gaze following me. An old man sat on a stool behind the glass partition, engrossed in the morning paper. I had to rap gently on the window to get his attention. When I asked for one ticket, he raised his right hand to the corresponding ear. By this time, I could see Jacob out of the corner of my eye. He was now only a few feet from me. I asked again for a ticket, this time shouting to be heard. The old man smiled in acknowledgment and pushed a ticket through the semi-oval
opening at the bottom of the glass. I had already fished a quarter from my pocket. I grabbed the ticket and slid the quarter to him.

  As I turned toward the first set of double doors, Jacob stepped into my path, blocking my entrance to the theater. As I faced him, I found the urge rising in me again. It was like a tidal wave. He was certainly handsome. He wore a black cotton shirt accenting fully his muscular torso, especially his arms. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a forest of light blond hairs. I could almost feel my fingers twining around them. The twin swells of his chest were also visible. He was clean-shaven, and his light blond hair was closely cropped. He was wearing a pleasant cologne and a pair of tight-fitting chinos leaving nothing to the imagination. His cock was plainly visible beneath the taut material; thick, with a nice fat head. His ensemble was topped off with the black motorcycle boots widely popular with the young crowd these days. He was the first to speak, and his rich, deep voice sent a small, unexpected thrill of excitement through my body.

  “Good morning, Mr. Steele. How are you this fine day?”

  Jacob had always insisted on calling me Mr. Steele. To him, it was somehow naughtier.

  “It’s been a while. I thought you’d left town after your recent incident.”

  I winced at his words. It made the whole past episode seem so trivial. I knew that wasn’t his intent. Jacob wasn’t uncaring by nature.

  “Are you seeing this picture alone?”

  “Yes, Jacob. That’s how I want it to be. I’m not in the mood for any company this morning.”

  Jacob ignored my response and stayed firmly planted in front of me.

  “No one should have to see a motion picture alone, Mr. Steele. Where’s the fun in that? If you buy me a ticket, I’ll make sure you enjoy the show. If you know what I mean.”