Hollywood Rage

by M. Z. Kelly

  We rode in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting, the dim light spinning a web of darkness around us.

  “The dark side of the world,” Olivia said, glancing at me. “Do you think we’ll ever understand it?”

  I met her eyes for an instant. “It’s where we spend a lot of our lives, so I think the best we can do is keep trying.”

  “Did you ever wonder how you bring something into this world?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I think the good and evil in this world is a matter of what you put your attention on. If you focus on evil, you bring it into this world. The good is created by focusing on what’s positive and trying to find compassion for others.” She smiled. “It’s all a matter of attention. We either shine the light or we live in a world full of darkness.”

  “I think you’re onto something.”

  After a long moment, Olivia said, “My father. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about him. I might try and find him.”

  I met her eyes and nodded.

  She went on. “It’s not what you’re probably thinking. I want some answers as to why he did what he did. It’s the only way I know to shine a light on the past.”

  “I can certainly understand that.”

  Her chest rose and fell before she changed the subject. “Anything more from Joe on your father or Pearl?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  Olivia smiled. “Sometimes it takes a lot of light to illuminate the darkness. I think something good will happen soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  We had just turned off the freeway in Hollywood when Olivia’s phone rang. It was Darby.

  “We tracked Yates and Mathias to a homeless shelter here in Santa Barbara. There was a shootout when they realized we were coming for them. They’re both dead. That leaves one member of the Society still in the wind—Jackson Ellis.”

  SIXTY-FOUR

  I got home a little after seven and found the royal family in our living room. To be more precise, it was a warped Hollywood version of the royal family, complete with my friends, Nana, Tex, and Howie, all dressed like they were ready for a ball at Buckingham Palace.

  “Welcome to our throne room,” Natalie said, handing me a drink, which she called a Royal Flush, as I walked in the door. My British friend had on a ball gown, something that looked like it was straight out of Elizabethan England. She looked at Bernie. “’Fraid we might have to trade you in for a Corgi.”

  “Nana decided to bring our outfits here, so you’re just in time for your fittin’,” Mo said, coming over to me. “What do you think of my outfit? It’s called a farthingale.”

  Her farthingale consisted of a hoop skirt, complemented by a ruffled purple blouse and a pile of red wig hair that almost scraped the ceiling.

  I suppressed a smile. “It’s...ah, stunning, absolutely unforgettable.”

  Nana, dressed in an outfit and crown that only the queen of England could pull off, came over to me with mounds of yellow material in her hands. “Try this on for size. I just hope it doesn’t fall off your skinny-ass body.”

  I held the dress up to me and told her what I thought. “It’s yellow. I hate yellow. I’ll look like a giant duck if I wear this. And it’s large enough for an army of royal guards to fit under it.”

  “Now that sounds like a good time,” Natalie said.

  Nana snapped her fingers. Howie, who was dressed like an English monarch, came over. “What is your pleasure, your highness?” he asked in a British accent.

  Nana handed him the wads of material. “Get this outfit back to the tailor. Tell them the waist needs to be taken in a few sizes.”

  I protested that merely taking the waist in wasn’t good enough, but I was ignored. After Howie, or rather King Henry, left, Tex came out of the kitchen with Otto. They were both dressed like a couple characters I’d seen on Downton Abbey.

  “We’ve prepared an assortment of brandies,” Otto said.

  “It was the drink of choice in the era we’re representing,” Tex told us. “It was often served to the royal family during beheadings and other formal gatherings.”

  “Off with your heads!” Mo said, before accepting one of the drinks and polishing it off in one gulp.

  I was still working on my Royal Flush and declined their offering. Even though I wanted nothing more than to go to bed, my friends insisted that I join them. I knew it was useless to argue, so I slumped down in a chair.

  “I hope that Ross fellow is still coming to the party,” Nana said to me, in a haughty queen-like voice. “You two can keep an eye on Boris’s mother.”

  “Speaking of Boris,” I said, already feeling the effects of my drink, “I had a little talk with Jessica about their love life.” I took a moment and filled them in on what she’d told me.

  “Boris really cackles like a rooster and wears his PJ’s when he does the dirty deed?” Natalie asked. “I heard some crazy stuff, but that gives buzzin’ the brillo a whole new twist.”

  “That’s exactly why I dumped him,” Nana said. “He’s not only as hairy as a monster, he’s got some weird sexual hang-ups.”

  “It could be that Boris invented the phrase making the beast with two backs,” Mo said, taking another brandy off the tray.

  “Or maybe it’s what he calls doin’ the horizontal monstah mash,” Natalie suggested.

  Nana stood and yawned. “I’m going to call it a night. I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Theodore in the morning. He’s going to give me a tune-up.”

  After she was gone, and Tex had wandered off to work on one of his projects, I mentioned Nana’s appearance to my friends. “Her skin is starting to sag and change color.”

  “She’s revertin’ to her former state in a bad way,” Natalie said. “Betcha she wakes up lookin’ like a corpse one of these days. Hey, if that happens, she’ll fit in right nice with Boris’s family at the party.”

  Mo changed the subject, mentioning Haley Robinson. “I heard she offed herself after her mama’s former lover was killed by their son. I also heard the kid mighta been behind the murder of her father.”

  I confirmed what she’d said, since I knew it was on the news. “There’s still some unknowns, some things that we might never sort out.”

  “What about that crazy Lazarus bloke?” Natalie asked. “We heard his disciples ate it. Any word on him?”

  “Nothing, but we think he’s still in the area.” I set my drink on the tray and rose. “Speaking of that, I’ve got a busy day tomorrow and need to get some sleep.”

  “I think I’ve got the software all worked out,” Tex said, appearing from the hallway with a laptop. “Dr. Doris is just about set for her debut.”

  Natalie went over, snatched the computer out of his hands, and closed the case. “We’ll talk ‘bout this later. Kate’s all tuckered out.”

  I was headed upstairs with Bernie, but turned back to them. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothin’,” Mo said, as Natalie put a hand over Tex’s mouth. “It’s just one of Tex’s crazy inventions. We’ll show it to you when all the kinks are worked out.”

  I was about to ask them what was really going on when my phone rang. I saw that the call was from Ross and took it upstairs in my bedroom.

  “I heard you had a busy day,” Ross said, after I collapsed onto my bed.

  “A little too busy, but we finally closed one of our cases.” I took a moment to fill him in on everything. I then asked about his transfer to the sheriff’s department. “How’s the new job working out?”

  “Malibu’s a big change from Taft, with a whole lot better view. I think I’m going to like it.”

  We went on chatting about his work for a moment, before he got to the reason for his call. “My dad called me earlier today. He wants to get together for dinner Saturday night, so I think I’m going to have to pass on that party you mentioned.”

  I knew that Ross and his father were estranged and hadn’t spoken in years. “Seeing your dad is much
more important than the party and it will save you from having to dress up like the Duke of Earl.” He laughed, and I took a moment to explain about the royal festivities.

  “I have a feeling it’s going to be a night to remember. You’ll have to tell me all about it one of these days.” He then said something about staying in touch and ended the call.

  I put my phone away and looked at Bernie. “Why do I get the impression I was just dumped?”

  As I got ready for bed, I replayed my conversation with Ross in my head. I decided my first impression was right. Ross was moving on. As I processed that, I realized that it was just as well. I didn’t know how I really felt about him anyway, and it would save me the trouble of trying to sort out my feelings.

  That left me with just one other uncertainty—a man named Joe Dawson.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  I slept well for a change and got to the station with Bernie a little early the next morning. I knew that Leo would be on suspension for a couple weeks while OIS investigated yesterday’s shooting, so I settled in and spent an hour catching up on paperwork. Olivia then called me into her office with Jenny and Molly, where we learned that Darby and Woody were still in Santa Barbara, being debriefed about yesterday’s events.

  After some chitchat, Olivia got down to business on the Peters case. “We’ve had units watching Jackson Ellis’s parents’ house all night, but there’s been no sign of him. It might be that after yesterday’s shootout with Yates and Mathias, he’s left the area.”

  I agreed. “He might have had past issues with his parents, but maybe they’re not part of his so-called purge. It could be that he’s planning to relocate and start over somewhere else.”

  “Molly and I have come up with a couple of angles on the case,” Jenny said. “The more we look into things, the more we have the feeling that Mel’s murder might have been the work of someone besides Ellis.”

  “Tell us what’s on your mind,” Olivia said.

  Molly, who today had on a green blouse that complemented her auburn hair, took over. “I have a friend who works out of Metro. She said the scuttlebutt is that PSB has been poking around.”

  PSB was the Professional Standards Bureau, the department’s version of internal affairs.

  “Poking around,” I said. “What does that mean?”

  “Jamie, my friend, works in records. She said there’s been rumors of thefts from the property room for weeks. She said a couple of weeks ago she saw one of the detectives from PSB meeting with the captain. It could be they have an investigation open, and, if so, Jenny and I are thinking it might have something to do with our murder weapon.”

  I said to Olivia, “If that’s the case, wouldn’t they have told us about it?”

  “We all know how PSB likes to run their own game,” Olivia said. “I’ll talk to Bronson and see what I can find out.”

  “You said earlier that Ellis might not have been involved in Mel’s murder,” I said to Jenny. “Does that mean you think Reginald Dunbar could have been involved, after all?”

  “Maybe. If we can find out who took the murder weapon from the evidence locker, I think we’ll be a lot closer to solving the crime.”

  “Let’s go back and talk about Jackson Ellis for a minute,” Olivia said. “Does he have any ties to this area, other than his parents living in Dana Point, and his relationship with his former followers?”

  Molly took a moment to sift through a stack of paperwork she’d put together while working the case. “I don’t see anything,” she finally said.

  While she continued to shuffle through her papers, Olivia took a break to call Deputy Chief Bronson. I took the time to scroll through some texts, seeing there was one from Joe Dawson, telling me that he would call me later.

  “I talked to Bronson,” Olivia said to me after ending her call. “He’s authorized us to meet with Captain Jameson from Professional Standards. Let’s head over there now.”

  “Wait,” Molly said. “I might have something on Jackson Ellis. When he came to California five years ago, he had a part time job at the King Gillette Ranch in the Santa Monica Mountains. It might be a long shot, but he lived onsite in one of their cabins while he did maintenance work, before moving to Northern California.”

  I knew from a past visit that the ranch was the one time home of the inventor of the Gillette safety razor and had been sold to Bob Hope in the 1950s. Several movies, and the TV show The Biggest Loser, had been filmed at the ranch, which was now owned by the National Park Service.

  “What makes you think he might be staying there?” Olivia asked.

  “I looked at the background workup on Julie Yates. She worked there at the same time Ellis did, but quit when they moved north. Six months ago, she’d gone back there part-time.”

  Olivia looked at me, raising her brows. “What do you think?”

  “I’ve been to the ranch before. It’s kind of off the beaten path, about an hour north of here. It might be a good place to hole up.”

  Olivia stood. “We’ll stop by there after we pay a visit to PSB.”

  ***

  LAPD’s Professional Standards Bureau was housed in the Bradbury Building in downtown Los Angeles. Built in the late 1800s, the building’s interior had a central atrium, and ornate ironwork that made it unlike any other structure in the city. I’d heard that the building had been used over the years for several movies and television shows.

  After checking in with a receptionist, Olivia and I met with Captain Hal Jameson in his wood paneled office, complete with a carved oak fireplace. Jameson was in his fifties, with a full head of silver hair swept straight back from his forehead. The term bulldog came to mind as my lieutenant explained why we were there.

  “Bronson sent you, huh?” Jameson said, after listening to what Olivia had to say. “No one told me about this.”

  “A Walther P38 was stolen from the Metro Division property room,” Olivia said. “The weapon was used in the murder of one of our own, Detective Mel Peters, and...”

  “I know all about the murder.” Jameson’s gaze moved over to me, his steely blue eyes fixing on me. “How have you been, Detective?”

  “Fine,” I said, knowing that he was referencing the fact that I’d been under investigation by his office in the past. Despite having proved my innocence, I knew that carried little weight with the captain and his detectives.

  Jameson looked back at Olivia. “If we did have an investigation involving property taken from the Metro property room, it would be confidential. I can’t comment one way or the other.”

  “Really?” Olivia said, her voice pitching higher. “Because it would seem to me if the department was in the possession of a weapon that was used in the murder of one of its own detectives, it would want that matter thoroughly investigated.”

  The captain shrugged. “I’m not interested in what you think.”

  Olivia locked eyes with him and nodded. She then reached into her purse and handed Jameson her phone.

  “What’s this?” Jameson said.

  “Chief Miles would like a word with you.”

  Jameson reluctantly took the phone and listened for several seconds. I realized that Olivia must have called the chief prior to entering Jameson’s office and left her phone on, expecting there would be a problem.

  After a couple minutes, and making several statements about confidentiality, Captain Jameson finally said into Olivia’s phone, “I understand. I’ll do what’s expected.”

  Olivia took her phone back when the called ended, but didn’t say anything. After shuffling some papers on his desk, Jameson finally looked at her. “The gun was taken by a former detective named David Baxter.”

  Olivia and I glanced at one another, knowing that Mel had been seeing Baxter off and on prior to her death.

  “How did the theft happen?” Olivia asked.

  Jameson exhaled, maybe out of irritation. “Baxter had booked some property into evidence and...let’s just say that he compromised one of Metro’s civil
ian staff who had access to the property room. He’s since been terminated.”

  “I was under the impression that he was fired for a use of force beef.”

  “Among other things.”

  “What did Baxter say about the theft?”

  “He denied it, and the weapon was never recovered until...you know the rest.”

  Olivia’s dark eyes held on the captain. “You knew about our homicide investigation and had a prior investigation into the theft of the weapon used in that murder, but you kept quiet about it.”

  “While the weapon was in the department’s evidence locker, it was never fired in the prior crime, so there was no ballistics match to your murder.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The fact remains, you knew about the missing weapon and our investigation.”

  “This was a matter of confidentiality, Lieutenant,” Jameson huffed. “That’s how our division operates.”

  Olivia rose, and I did the same. “I’d call it a matter of withholding information pertinent to a murder investigation,” she said.

  As we left Jameson’s office, he was yelling at Olivia, telling her that she had violated protocol by calling the chief and that Deputy Chief Bronson would hear all about it.

  As we were in one of the ornate elevators, headed to the first floor, I asked Olivia for her thoughts.

  “I think there are a lot of assholes in the world,” Olivia said. “I also think we’ve got a prime suspect who’s a PI over in Boyle Heights. Let’s go arrest him.”

  SIXTY-SIX

  We went by David Baxter’s office, but found it was closed. Olivia made several calls to him that went straight to voice mail. When the calls weren’t returned by noon, we stopped for a bite to eat, then decided to make the drive to King Gillette Ranch.

  We entered the sprawling ranch via a long, tree-lined driveway that was bordered by a pond, a formal courtyard, and rolling lawns. The main building was a Spanish mansion, surrounded by several outbuildings, including a visitors center.