by M. Z. Kelly
He reached across the table and took her hand. “I need you to tell me what happened.”
Madison shrank back. There were tears in her eyes. “Oh, my God.” She found her father’s eyes again. “Are they…”
Landon nodded. “I won’t lie to you, sweetheart. They’re bad.”
There were more tears now, an emotional breakdown that caused Landon to settle their bill. They took a walk in the gardens adjacent to the Castle.
After starts and stops, his daughter was finally able to regain enough control to say, “The last time I saw Scarlett we went out for drinks at a club. I remember a couple of guys tried to hit on us. One of them recognized her and wanted an autograph.”
“How long ago was this?”
Madison wheezed out a breath. “Like I said before, maybe a year, give or take. I’m not sure.”
Landon waited for a moment, when she didn’t go on he said, “And?”
“That’s all I remember, Daddy. I swear it. I think maybe something was put in our drinks. I woke up in a hotel room and…” She fell against Landon’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. “I think I was raped. I told Mom…she wanted me to report it. I was scared and confused. I refused.”
Landon found his daughter’s eyes when she finally moved back. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened?”
“I didn’t want to disappoint you, Daddy. I was scared to death and afraid that you’d think I was…”
It took Pearce Landon another hour to console his daughter before she regained some semblance of control. He had no idea who had raped Scarlett and Madison or how those pictures ended up in a scheme to blackmail him, but he was determined to find out. One way or another, whoever was involved would pay. And if Pearce Landon had his way, they would pay with their lives.
TWENTY FIVE
Bernie and I stopped by Ravenswood Manor on our way home. Ted and I had spent the rest of the day trying to track down Scarlett’s best friend, Lauren Hayden. The phone number Scarlett’s mother had given us was a disconnect. Just before we left the station, Molly Wingate told us she was working on a lead, someone from one of the studios where Scarlett worked, who might know Hayden’s whereabouts. She hoped to have something for us by morning.
Meanwhile, I’d also spoken to Selfie, who told us that she’d learned Zig Steinberg had attended the Tauist Retreat at one time. She thought there might be a link between the director, Hawkins, and the founder of the Tauist religion, Harlan Ryland. I told her we needed something from her as soon as possible because Conrad wasn’t cutting us any slack. Selfie said we were lucky we weren’t at the station because the lieutenant was making everyone’s life miserable.
“Guess you heard the vamp and the tramp are hooking up,” Mo said, as I took a seat across from her and Natalie in the great room at Ravenswood Manor. Mo had a blonde wig in her lap that she was grooming. “We gotta be outta here in a couple of weeks.”
She and Natalie had gotten an early start on some Chica Loca, an eighty proof energy drink that Natalie’s former boyfriend had developed. While Nana’s sexual energy had been on overdrive lately, I wouldn’t exactly call our eighty-plus former roommate a tramp.
However, Natalie, who had her own lusty leanings, agreed with Mo and said, “Vampires might suck but you ask me, Nana’s giving Claude a few tips of her own, if you know what I mean.”
I tried to suppress a visual as Mo added, “Nana told me she and the Count have been doing the frog.”
“The frog?” I asked, at the same time knowing that I was asking for trouble.
Mo’s brow turned into deep crevasses. “Don’t tell me you and the cowboy never did the frog?”
I was clueless about what she meant and shook my head, at the same time trying to put Buck out of my mind.
Mo turned to Natalie, now shaking her big head. It was Natalie’s cue to explain, “Let’s just say the frog gets real happy on her lily pad ‘cause there’s a big log in the swamp and…”
“Never mind,” I said, now getting another visual of Nana squatting on her lily pad with Kermit dressed as a vampire. I changed the subject. “Have you two thought about where you’re going to live?”
Mo put on her wig and brushed blonde hair from her eyes. “Remember that realtor, Mary Jane Collins, who showed us some property when we solved your last murder case?”
I took issue with her thinking they’d solved my case, but ignored the comment and said, “Didn’t she show you that penthouse over on Highland?”
“Jiggy Biggs’ fuck fort,” Natalie confirmed, referencing the murder victim and the condo where he’d hooked up with several women.
Mo primped, admiring herself in a hand mirror. “Anyway, Mary Jane gave us a lead on an apartment building over in the Melrose District that’s owned by her brother-in-law who used to be an actor. She said it’s being renovated and there’s a bunch of units available at reasonable rents.”
Natalie finished her Chica Loca and set her glass down. “We’re gonna go check it out the day after tomorrow. Wanna come?”
I shook my head. “Busy with work, and I’m still not sure what to do about my mother and my living situation.”
“You ask me,” Mo said. “You’re too old to be living with your mom. If I lived with my mother, there’d be a homicide in ‘bout twenty-four hours.”
“Maybe Kate will go whacko and whack her mum,” Natalie suggested. “You might end up on one of them nighttime TV news shows, where they interview all your friends who say they saw it coming, ‘cause everybody secretly knew you were a psycho killer just waitin’ to crack somebody’s skull.” She looked over at Mo, who nodded her confirmation.
Since I was driving, I only took a sip of my drink before setting the glass aside. “I’ll think over the living arrangements, let you know.”
Mo then changed the subject. “While baby sis and me are still looking into what happened to Russell Van Drake, we’re also thinking ‘bout solving the murder of that actress Scarlett Endicott in our spare time. I think we got us a lead if you wanna hear about it.”
I started to lecture them about staying out of my cases but caught myself. I decided it would be as useful as telling Bernie to stand up and sing an opera.
I sighed. “Sure. What have you got?”
“Scarlett was into the dark arts,” Natalie said. Her hazel eyes grew wide and she looked around the great room, maybe to emphasize her point by indicating we were in a creepy ancient mansion.
“That’s how she got hooked up with that crazy movie she was making,” Mo agreed. “Baby sis and me think one of her psycho-sicko friends might have done her in.”
I hadn’t thought about Scarlett being into Satanism. It didn’t seem to fit with what I’d learned about her, but I had to admit what they’d said intrigued me. “What makes you think she was into the dark arts, as you call it?”
“Look what happened to her,” Natalie said. “Mo and me heard that Scarlett was carved up like a jack-o-lantern.”
I had no idea how they knew about the details of my case, but Mo had lots of sources from when she worked as a pimp in Hollywood trying to get girls off the streets. “Do either of you have any names, anyone you think might have been involved?”
“I heard a fixer was at work at the crime scene,” Mo said. “If I were you I’d find him and lean on him real hard until…”
Mo stopped in mid-sentence as we all heard screaming coming from upstairs. Maybe it was just the acoustics in the ancient house but it sounded like somebody was being bludgeoned to death. Bernie was so alarmed that he stood, his ears pointing straight up.
“Maybe I need some of what Nana’s been takin’,” Natalie said as the wailing continued. “I got me a feeling the frog just fell off her lily pad.”
“She keeps that up and there could be a murder in the swamp tonight,” Mo said, shaking her blonde head.
I stood up and said, “I’d better get going, busy day tomorrow.” As they walked me to the door, I asked them about their audition for the Internet T
V show that they’d mentioned when we had dinner.
“Baby sis and me got us a call back in a couple of days,” Mo said. “You just might be looking at a couple of ‘it’ girls and don’t know it.”
We all stopped at the door and turned as the screaming continued from upstairs, now growing louder. Mo turned toward the stairway and said, “I gotta go take care of a vampire that’s jumping on a frog.”
TWENTY SIX
When Bernie and I got home, I found my mother in her spirit room, as she calls it, preparing for a séance. While Miss Daisy waited for her victim, I mean client, I asked her how her date with Buzz the biker went.
She answered in the voice of Rose, her altered persona. “He’s a real man, Kate. Not like some of those guys you’ve been dating recently.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She smiled. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”
What she’d said was insensitive and inappropriate. It reminded me that I needed to talk to her about seeing a therapist. I knew that the only way I’d be able to convince her to see someone would be to offer to go with her. “I’ve been thinking that the two of us should see a counselor, maybe get some help trying to cope with everything that’s happened lately.”
Her gray eyes swiveled up from a stack of tarot cards and fixed on me. “Maybe you need to see a shrink. I’m fine.”
I shook my head. “Thinking you’re someone named Rose, fantasizing about having sex with ex-presidents, and staying out at all hours is far from fine.”
“You just resent me having a good time when you’re constantly hooking up with losers.”
I gulped in a lungful of air, ignored my heart beating against my ribcage out of both frustration and anger. “I’ve already made us an appointment for tomorrow evening. We’re seeing a therapist named Beverly Chan. My friend Brie recommended her.”
The doorbell rang, causing Bernie to growl. “Whatever,” Mom said, rising to answer the door. “That’s probably Buzz.”
“What?” I said, trailing behind her as she left the spirit room.
She stopped and turned to me. “Just so you know, he’ll probably be spending the night.”
I was mortified. Mom had just met this guy and she was having him spend the night in our house. Maybe I was the one who needed professional help.
She answered the door and led Buzz into the room. My Mom’s new guy looked at least ten years younger than her with a thatch of uncombed gray-black hair and lots of piercings. It was probably my imagination but something about him reminded me of a guy I’d seen on a recent wanted poster.
“Your mom tells me you’re a cop,” Buzz said after introductions, his dark eyes sliding over me.
I forced a smile. “And Mom tells me you’re a lawyer.”
He handed me a card. “I only handle bike cases.” He leered at me. “You ever go down, you call me.”
My mouth fell open. I quickly closed it. “That’s never going to happen.”
He smiled, exposing a row of crooked teeth. “That’s probably true.”
I did a slow burn as Mom gave Buzz a tour of her spirit room while waiting for her client. I took Bernie and Bubba for a short walk to calm my nerves and then got ready for bed, doing my best to put out of my mind what Mom and Buzz might be doing later that night.
I lay in bed reading for a while until my phone rang. My heart raced when I saw the call was from Buck.
“Thought I’d see how life goes on the mainland,” he said, making casual conversation.
“Probably a little busier than on the island,” I said. I then took a moment and told him about my new assignment. I kept it brief because I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to share with him about my life after what had happened with his ex.
He went on for a moment, chatting about island life before the conversation became personal. “The real reason I called was to apologize again about everything. I’ve been able to get my ex back on her meds. Colleen’s staying with her sister and I think she’s doing better.”
After a lengthy pause I finally said, “I’m glad she’s improving.” Buck’s ex-wife was bipolar. She’d been off her medication and using street drugs in recent months.
He went on, “I’m having a test done.” I didn’t respond. After a moment he added, “So that you’ll know I’m not the father.”
I breathed and tried to choose my words carefully. “I don’t think that’s going to make a difference at this point.”
“Why not? If I’m not…”
“The issue isn’t just paternity, Buck.” I worked the muscles in my neck that seemed to tighten with each word I spoke. “The issue, for me, is being stalked.”
“But if Colleen’s on her meds I don’t think that’s going to be an issue again.” His voice had changed, his emotions surfacing. “You’ve got to give us another chance, Kate. All I’m asking is that you keep an open mind about everything.”
I sighed. Part of me desperately wanted to give the relationship another chance, but not at the expense of what happened before. I was unsure how to respond and finally ended the call by saying, “Let me think things over. I’ll be in touch.”
I spent the rest of the night struggling with my emotions. I knew that I’d begun to fall in love with Buck before his ex-wife had surfaced. But the thought of continuing that relationship, knowing that she might go off her meds again and show up in our lives was more than I could bear. My life had been an emotional roller-coaster over the last couple of years and I felt empty even thinking about getting back into a relationship where there was a potential stalker involved.
It was almost dawn when my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off into a restless sleep. A nightmare woke me up a couple of hours later. I dreamt that I was in bed with Buck but had been awakened by his ex-wife. She was standing over me holding a knife.
***
Despite my lack of sleep, Ted and I got an early start that morning because we had a meeting scheduled with the lieutenant in the afternoon. We both knew that unless we broke something open on our case, Conrad was going to be on the warpath.
As Ted drove us to see one of his confidential informants, I was exhausted and kept replaying what Buck had said in my mind.
You’ve got to give us another chance.
I was conflicted about what he’d said, excited by the prospect of making things work, but at the same time, knowing that getting involved again with a man who had a mentally ill ex-wife was just asking for trouble. I did my best to put everything out of my mind, including the nightmare about seeing Buck’s ex standing over my bed with a knife, as we drove.
I sipped the latte I’d stopped for on the way to work and told Ted about my mother and her new boyfriend, also mentioning that I’d arranged for us to see a therapist. “Her guy’s name is Buzz. He’s a lawyer who only handles motorcycle cases.”
Ted looked over at me. “A lawyer, huh.”
I nodded. “Buzz the biker.”
“Your mom sounds like she’s decompensating, maybe due to the stress of everything that’s happened in your family situation. I think seeing a counselor’s a good idea.”
“I just hope she listens. She’s not in a very good place.” I thought about what Mo and Natalie had said and then added, “I’m not sure that living with her was such a good idea.”
Ted nodded. “Maybe you both need your space.”
I was still unsure if I was ready to live with Natalie and Mo again. I made a mental note to ask them about the apartments they planned to look at.
We met with Ted’s CI, a man named Zoey Stern, at his art studio in North Hollywood. My new partner and Stern exchanged greetings, Ted explaining to me that they’d known one another for decades.
Stern was into abstract art and had a lot of paintings for sale that were reminiscent of what a small child might make with crayons. As we took cups of coffee that Stern had poured us to a small room in the back of his studio, I noticed some of the works had price tags of over a thousand dollars. So mu
ch for me being an art critic.
Stern was a big man, probably in his early fifties, who wore a beret. As we took seats around a table and Bernie settled on the floor next to me, he removed the head covering revealing that he was bald. The morning was foggy and cool and the studio was without heat. I pulled my black blazer around me as Ted got down to business.
“We’re looking for someone who works cleaning crime scenes. The guy might have worked on a big scene in the last few days.
Stern sniffed, examined his nails. “If you’re look for a professional it’s a relatively small group. Under normal circumstances I’d say you might want to have a conversation with Collin Pasqual, but you probably know he’s got other problems right now.”
Ted nodded. “So we’ve heard.”
Stern went on to mention the other known fixers in the area before saying, “He’s probably not high on your radar but you might want to take a look at Pearce Landon.”
“Why Landon?”
“Some rumors have been circulating out there that he’s been asking about Scarlett Endicott.”
Ted glanced at me, smiled, and looked back at Stern. “You always were good at reading between the lines.”
Stern patted his bald head. “My specialty.” He glanced at his artwork. “I’m just not so good at drawing between the lines.
“Anything specific on Landon that you can give us?”
The artist shook his head. “Just that it’s a bit surprising. He’s got a reputation for working behind the scenes on lower level issues after what happened with Beal.
I remembered Selfie telling us that Landon was a suspect in covering up the Martin Beal murder several years ago. Scarlett’s brutal crime scene then flickered through my mind and I asked, “What about Endicott’s murder? You’ve probably heard the crime scene was bad. Any thoughts on who might have wanted her dead?”
Stern sipped his coffee, set the cup down. “Not really. All I know is that her movie wasn’t going well.”
“Why is that?” I asked, wanting to hear his take on things.
“Lots of conflict and disagreements on the set.”
