Hollywood Homicide: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  “You just…you seem a little disheveled.” His eyes shifted, moving up and taking in my hair.”

  My anxiety level spiked as I searched for a mirror that I kept in my drawer. My dark brown, wavy hair was the bane of my existence, usually displaying a mind of its own. My hairdresser brother does what he can with it but the results often leave a lot to be desired.

  I found the mirror and said, “Oh, my God. What the hell?”

  Insomnia had been a big problem for me lately, and when I’d finally gotten to sleep last night I’d slept soundly, apparently to the detriment of my locks. I was looking at a case of bed head gone horribly wrong. Despite thinking I’d tamed my mane before coming to work, one side of my hair was flattened against my head, the other an unruly mess.

  I excused myself and trudged into the restroom where my day went from bad to worse. I was working on my locks when Jessica Barlow, a nemesis who had gone to high school with me, came out of one of the stalls.

  “Did you get hit by a dump truck on the way to work?” Jessica asked, coming over to the sink.

  Apparently, my hair still needed lots of work. My eyes shifted, catching a glimpse of Jessica’s heavily made up face in the mirror. “Mind your own business.”

  “It looks like you must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed in more ways than one. I heard you were almost raped before being placed on leave.”

  I ignored her, attempting to brush out the tumbleweed on my head.

  Jessica went on, “I know you’re probably angry about everything, but it wasn’t my idea.”

  I turned away from the mirror and found her heavily shadowed eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “That ex-partner of yours, Harvey.”

  “Ex-partner? What are you trying to say?”

  Her thin lips turned up. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

  My brows inched together and my pulse quickened. I barely suppressed the urge to reach over and clock her, wiping the smug grin off her idiotic face. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Leave me alone.” I turned and headed for the door.

  “Harvey requested the transfer.” I stopped and swiveled back in her direction as she went on. “He thinks you’re bad luck.”

  I turned away from her, pushed the door open, and stormed over to my desk. My partner looked up at me and physically shrank back. He must have seen the flames shooting from my eyes. “You want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”

  Harvey’s mouth fell open. He started to say something but was interrupted by Lieutenant Edna.

  “Sexton, in my office now.” The lieutenant glanced at his watch, back at me. “I don’t got all fucking day.”

  I went over to him, as Bernie came up off the floor and followed. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

  He waved me toward his office. “You’ll know in a minute.”

  When I got into Edna’s office I saw that Captain Melvin Dembowski was there. He stood up and took my hand. “Good to see you, Kate.”

  I returned the greeting, at the same time taking a breath to calm myself. Dembowski , or Dumblowski as some of the line staff called him, had been a lieutenant assigned to Hollywood Station when I’d first gone to work there. As far as I knew, he was now assigned to the Homicide Special Section working in downtown Los Angeles. Word had it that the police captain used a lot of pucker power on his way up the chain, something that I had no stomach for.

  “Have a seat,” Edna said, at the same time taking a seat behind his desk. My lieutenant was in his fifties with a shock of gray hair. He was a stress case, probably not too far away from retiring. He turned to Dembowski, who had taken a seat next to me. “I’ll let you explain what’s going on.”

  The captain was a former boxer and still had a few scars to prove it. Dembowski leveled his dark eyes on me as Bernie settled next to my chair. “First, let me say good work on The Sadist and his partner. I heard it was a pretty harrowing experience.”

  I still felt nothing regarding the events of a few days earlier, but said, “I’m just glad the bad guys are off the streets.”

  He nodded. “I don’t have to tell you that you and Bernie have done some excellent work since you’ve been assigned to RHD. The cases you’ve handled have been complex and difficult. The department and the chief, in particular, want to recognize your efforts.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, at the same time feeling apprehensive. I’d had some run-ins with the new chief of police and what I was hearing didn’t seem to fit with our history. My brass radar was on high alert as he went on.

  “The department has made a decision to form a special unit to work high profile and complex homicide cases. It’s a prototype and if it’s successful other units will likely be formed in other divisions as well. Since the Hollywood Division unit is the first special unit, it will be called, Section One. Ozzie Powell will be the assigned lieutenant. We want you to be a part of the team.”

  Lieutenant Edna smiled, a rare event. I was more than a little surprised that I’d been selected for the new unit, given my past run-ins with the brass. On a positive note, everyone knew Ozzie Powell. The veteran cop, who was pushing sixty, was a legend and admired by almost everyone in the department, including line staff.

  “Congrats,” Edna said to me. “This is a big f…a big deal.”

  The lieutenant had gone OCD with the f-word a few years back. It was something that he rarely controlled, unless his boss was around.

  I brushed a hand through my unruly locks and glanced down at my hairy partner. “What about Bernie?”

  “If you accept the new assignment, Bernie comes along,” Dembowski said. “Nothing changes.”

  “And Harvey? I heard…”

  “My bad,” Edna said. “I let him know that he was likely being reassigned before you got to work this morning. He’s f…I mean, he took it okay.”

  I leveled my eyes on the lieutenant. “I need you to be straight with me. I heard he wanted the reassignment and will be working with Jessica.”

  The lieutenant nodded. “We both know that Harvey’s got…” He glanced at the captain, back at me. “Let’s just lay it out there. Harvey’s a fucking wannabe actor, playing at being a cop. He and Jessica deserve each other.”

  “Word has it that he thinks I’m bad luck.”

  Edna’s breath rattled in his throat. “He’s just not used to a lot of action that somebody like you brings to the job. I think he wanted a slower pace.”

  I looked back over at the captain, deciding that I needed to clear the air about my possible reassignment, even though I wasn’t sure if Dembowski would be honest with me. “You probably know that I’ve had some past issues with the chief. Why am I even being considered for this assignment?”

  “Just between the three of us, the chief wants better relations with the community and the press. You’ve gotten some positive media coverage over the cases you’ve worked. I think he wants you on the team partly because it will serve those interests. But you’ve also earned the shot.”

  I nodded, knowing what he’d said was probably true, but I was still feeling conflicted, unsure if I was up for the new assignment or even if I wanted to continue working as a cop.

  “How soon…when do you need an answer?” I asked.

  Dembowski must have sensed my reservations, but I was also sure he had no idea about the depth of the crisis I was undergoing. He was about to answer when his eyes shifted away from me and a bear of a man appeared in the doorway.

  “I want you to meet your new partner if you accept the job,” Dembowski said to me. “This is Ted Grady.”

  EIGHT

  Pearce Landon’s blue eyes shifted and he looked over his shoulder while waiting for the elevator. The condominium complex, called The Reef Towers, was located mid-block in an area of high rise buildings west of Hollywood. The area was busy with heavy traffic and lots of people on the sidewalks, but Landon was an expert at blending in. He was confident that he’d gone
unnoticed as he made his way down the street and into the building.

  The complex was older and didn’t have a concierge service, something that worked to his advantage. He waited until the lobby emptied out, wanting to ride the elevator alone. He didn’t know why he was in the building, only that the unknown caller had made it clear that saying no wasn’t an option.

  Landon got off on the seventh floor as instructed and ambled down the hallway to room 239, his slight limp the result of a second tour of duty in Iraq, when an IED had killed his best friend and left him in the hospital for weeks. He found that the door to the unit was unlocked and heard a phone ringing when he entered. That fact told him that he was being watched.

  The phone was on a table adjacent to the kitchen. He noticed there were two manila envelopes next to it as he answered. The caller’s voice was electronically altered, giving the unknown party a deep intimidating tone.

  “I have a job for you, a situation that must be remedied this evening,” the man said. “I believe you will find the payment contained in the enveloped marked number one sufficient.”

  Landon picked up the envelope, emptied the contents onto the table. Stacks of bundled one hundred dollar bills and a key spilled out. A quick glance and he realized the total came to $20,000. He left the money and the key on the table and walked away, taking the phone with him as he glanced around the otherwise vacant apartment.

  “I’m assuming your silence means the terms of this arrangement are acceptable,” the wavering electronic voice announced.

  Landon had been in the business long enough to know that the amount of money being offered meant the caller had a big problem. “What do you need?”

  The deep, modulated voice came back after a moment. “There’s a girl, an actress to be precise. Her name is Scarlett Endicott. You might have heard that she had a very big part in an upcoming film. Unfortunately, her career came to a sudden end today. Scarlett had a dispute with someone and didn’t survive. That’s where you come in.”

  Landon had finished his walkthrough of the empty unit while the caller spoke, finding it empty. He ended up back in the living room. When he’d heard the girl’s name he stopped and took a breath. His lungs slowly deflated as he made an effort to control his emotions. “You’ve got the wrong man. I don’t handle this kind of situation.”

  The caller’s electronic voice took on an angry edge. “You’re a fixer. I need you to fix this situation. Saying no isn’t an option.”

  Landon brushed a hand through his short brown hair and made an effort to keep his voice even. “I’m afraid saying yes isn’t an option. There are others you can call…”

  “No. I need this done tonight. If it’s a matter of the money perhaps I can sweeten the deal.”

  “It’s a matter of murder, not money,” Landon said. “I’m not your man.” He walked over to the table and was about to end the call when the voice came back on the line.

  “Envelope number two, please. I’ll wait while you examine what’s inside.”

  Landon set the phone on the table and picked up the second envelope. He could tell it didn’t contain money even before he emptied the contents onto the table. Four photographs spilled out. There were two girls and two men in the photos, one he recognized as the dead actress the caller had referenced. Then his eyes focused on the second girl, causing his vision to narrow. He was unable to catch his breath, a sour feeling rising in his throat.

  When he picked up the phone and spoke again, Landon made no effort to hide his emotions. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  There was an electronic burst of laughter before the caller said, “Just a lost weekend, I’m afraid. A very lost weekend that Scarlett and your daughter shared a few months back with a couple of very eager young men as you can see. It would be a shame if those photos ended up on the Internet.”

  Landon pushed the photos back into the envelope without looking at the images again. He took a couple of deep breaths, pushing down his rising nausea as the caller went on.

  “You’re a fixer, Mr. Landon. One of the best in Hollywood, so I’m told. You can remedy this situation and at the same time protect your daughter’s reputation. It’s your choice.”

  Landon pushed the envelope with the photographs into his pocket. For a moment he contemplated telling the caller that he knew Scarlett Endicott and her father. He decided against it, unsure how revealing that information might change the equation. “Where’s the girl?”

  “You will find Scarlett in the Rosewood Cottage at Montrose Gardens. Her body needs to completely disappear by tomorrow morning, as does any evidence of a crime ever having been committed. Anything less is not an option.”

  Landon put the key in his pocket. “Consider it done.” He then ended the call and tossed the phone on the table next to the pile of money. There was a job to be done, but he wouldn’t accept a penny for what was ahead. The fixer would fix what needed to be fixed. After that he would find out who murdered Scarlett Endicott and had taken the pornographic pictures of her and his daughter.

  NINE

  Detective Ted Grady came over and shook my hand before getting down on the floor of Lieutenant Edna’s office to greet Bernie. My big dog took to the attention right away, relishing Grady’s scratching and rubbing. It was an all-out love-fest that went on for a good five minutes, the big detective cooing over Bernie like he was his long lost best friend.

  “Reminds me of Drifter, a shepherd-mix I once had,” Grady said, looking up at me. “Hard on the outside, soft in the middle.” He belly laughed. “Kinda like me.”

  When the love-fest ended, he stood up and took a seat next to me. Ted Grady was African-American, probably in his late forties. The big detective was about six feet, around two-hundred fifty pounds. His short hair was graying at the temples and there was something about him that made me think about Pearl Kramer having a younger, heavier brother.

  “Why don’t you give Kate a little bit about your background,” Dembowski said to Grady.

  The big detective smiled. His soft brown eyes shifted, taking in everyone in the room before finding me. “I’ll give you the abridged version, save a few things for later.” He twisted his big body, turning more in my direction. “I’m forty-seven, divorced, and live alone. My hobbies are photography and a little philosophy. I’ve been with the department for eighteen years, worked my way up from patrol, doing a couple of stints at Wilshire Division and Midland. Worked RHD out of Homicide Special for the past three years.” He regarded me. “Not sure why our paths never crossed.” His almond eyes swung over to the captain. “Being part of Section One is my dream job.” He looked back at me. “It’s what I’m meant to do.”

  “Your turn,” Dembowski said to me.

  I looked at him and took a breath, wondering how to explain my mixed up life to Ted Grady in a few words. I found Grady’s eyes again. “I’m divorced and, thankfully, don’t have any kids. Bernie and I...we recently moved in with my mother who’s having some medical issues. I’ve been with the department…”

  “No need to go on,” Grady said, maybe sensing my discomfort. “I already know about your assignments, most of the cases you worked. It’s very impressive.”

  “I’m not sure I understand. How…”

  “The press, the stories about you and your…you know the rest.”

  I knew that “the rest” involved the death of my father and Jack Bautista. I took a breath, still unsure how I felt about what was being offered and still feeling like I was running on empty.

  Dembowski took over. “Section One will be comprised of the lieutenant and six detectives working in teams. We’ll also add a crime analyst and a secretary. Your cases will be hand-picked by myself and some of the brass. I won’t kid you about any of this being easy, but I will tell you that you will be part of a team, Kate—a family that will always have your back.”

  What he said intrigued me. I’d never felt fully supported by the department. The idea of being part of a family, a group of cops
that actually worked together and supported one another, appealed to me. There was that, but the hollow feeling was still in my gut.

  “If it’s okay, I think I need a day to think things over,” I said to him and Edna. “I’m grateful for the offer but I’m just trying to sort through some personal issues that might impact my decision.”

  Ted Grady waved a hand and answered for them. “Understood.” His eyes shifted to the captain, his brows rising.

  “Take your time,” Dembowski said to me. “We want to do the right thing by you.”

  “Why don’t I stop by tomorrow morning,” Grady said to me, standing up. “We can get some coffee and go for a walk. I’ll fill you in on a little more of my background. Maybe it will help with your decision.”

  I also stood up and caught a glimpse of Harvey and Jessica through Edna’s window in the outer office. It looked like they were in a heated argument. Whatever decision I made, I was thankful that at least I wouldn’t have to work with either of them.

  “Coffee in the morning sounds great,” I said to Grady. “I know a place that’s just up the street.”

  TEN

  Montrose Gardens was an upscale hotel with a main building surrounded by detached cottages located on Sunset Boulevard west of Hollywood. The Gardens, as everyone called it, was a synthesis of Mediterranean, Spanish, and Morrish Revival styles of architecture, built in the 1920’s by Andrew Halstead, a wealthy industrialist, on what was once a ninety-seven acre walnut orchard. The hotel’s flowering gardens and water features made it seem like it was a world away from the busy city surrounding it.

  When Halstead died in 1957, the property changed hands several times before being purchased by Russian billionaire, Sergi Fradkoff. The new owner wasted no time firing most of the employees who had been with The Gardens for decades, replacing them with low wage workers without benefits.

  Pearce Landon had known some of those long-time employees and made a vow never to set foot on the property again. As he turned the key in the lock of the Rosewood Cottage he realized he’d broken that vow along with another even more important one—never to clean-up another murder scene.