#3 Hollywood Crazy: A Holllywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  “How goes life on the streets?” Natalie asked me as Cesar Milan whispered a snarling pit bull into submission.

  “Just running down a few leads,” I said. Natalie knows I can’t talk about pending cases, but she always asks anyway.

  “You’re navigating a labyrinth of counter candor, no doubt,” Tex said. “Factoring out the social etiquette of face-saving babble, the average person engages in fabrication approximately seventeen percent of the time. And at the risk of stating the obvious, your subjects are lurking on the far end of that bell curve.”

  Mo said to Tex, “Maybe you should invent one of them computers that interprets nerd-speak. I don’t get half what you’re saying.”

  “The universal nerd translator is on my to-do list,” Tex said. “Right after I complete the basement particle accelerator and some bioengineering projects involving hypoallergenic crepusculars.”

  Mo shook her head and looked at Natalie. “I think this one escaped from the planet Vulcan with Mr. Spock.”

  “Don’t let Mr. Big bumfuzzle you,” Natalie said to her. “I can translate if you need help.”

  I looked at Jack who whispered, “Guess I missed the news about the alien invasion.”

  I started to ask Natalie what she meant by Mr. Big, but kept my big mouth shut for once. I called over to Prissy who was in the kitchen, “Whatever you’re fixing smells heavenly.”

  Mo gave me a hard look and shook her head. “That one couldn’t freeze soup in an ice cube. I’m ordering a pizza if you’re interested.”

  I remembered some rubber tasting lasagna Prissy had fixed me once and decided she was probably right. Jack gave her some money for the pizza delivery.

  After she called in the order, Mo came back to the sofa and said to me, “I made some inquiries with some of the girls on the street I used to handle and got some information today you might be interested in.”

  “I can use all the help I can get.”

  “Seems our blushing bride didn’t have a lot to blush about. China was a high-end working girl. Up until about three years ago she worked for an agency called Discrete.”

  I pretended to be surprised by Mo’s revelations as Tex commented, “Not entirely surprising. The world’s oldest profession is historically ubiquitous. Some ancient civilizations even created deities honoring the practice, hence the coital expression, Oh God.”

  Mo released a breath, gave Tex a long look. “Honey, do me a favor. Go down to the basement and play with your...your nuclear reactor.”

  As Tex hung his head and trudged out of the room, Mo continued. “Anyway, this agency, Discrete, they been in business for years.”

  Jack said, “When I worked for the department, I was in vice for a while. You’re right, Discrete’s one of the oldest escort services around. For some reason no one’s been able to touch them.”

  “Rumor has it they been getting special treatment, if you know what I mean,” Mo said.

  My eyes narrowed on her. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean.”

  “The word is there’s been a lot of money and favors exchanged as the cost of doing business.”

  “Are you saying the police are behind that?”

  Mo shrugged. “Don’t know. All I know for sure is that China worked for a business that made for a lot of happy endings in more ways than one. And I heard if anybody tried to get in the way of the happy ending, they went away.”

  I considered the possibility that China had complained to someone at Discrete about Malik Brown blackmailing her. If she’d threatened to go to the authorities, it might have made both her and Brown targets.

  Natalie lowered the volume on the remote until the Dog Whisperer whispered. She looked at me. “That’s where Sistah Snoop comes in. I’m goin’ undercover...see what kinda monkeyshine is goin’ on at Discrete.”

  “You’re what? I said. “That’s way too dangerous. If anyone finds out you’re trying to gather information, you could be in danger.”

  “Too late, I filled out me application online this afternoon. I’m supposed to meet with their management tomorrow night.”

  “Marla West?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I can’t say.” I walked over to the sofa, sat down beside her, and took her hand. “Natalie, please rethink this. You don’t want to get involved in prostitution and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Jack also voiced his concerns. But Natalie was prepared with her rebuttal. “You both sound like Tex. I’m just gonna get the lay of the land, not get laid. And, you forget that I’ve taken them self-defense classes. I’ve also got me spray and I’ll bet old Clyde’s pistol is around here somewhere.”

  “What? You don’t have a permit to carry a weapon.” I knew that Natalie carried pepper spray, but the idea of her with her ex-husband’s gun was scary as hell.

  “Besides,” Natalie went on, ignoring my concerns. “Mo is gonna be my protection.”

  “Think of me as a human condom,” Mo said. “No one touches baby sister unless they go through me.”

  I started to argue some more when I caught a glimpse of a ghostly apparition gliding down the stairway. I thought about the house being haunted and shivers went down my spine until I realized it was Nana, somehow floating into the room.

  “What the hell is that?” Jack motioned toward the ghostly specter.

  “Prissy’s great-grandmother,” I said.

  “Are you ready for dinner?” Prissy called over to Nana.

  “This damn thing is too slow,” Nana said. She finally arrived at the foot of the stairway and Prissy helped her up.

  “Prissy got her one of them stair scooters,” Mo explained to us. “They installed it today.”

  “I’ll see if I can increase the speed,” Prissy said, helping Nana into the kitchen.

  Nana sniffed the air as Tex dished up her dinner at the kitchen counter. She sat on a barstool and said, “What’s that?”

  “Meatloaf,” Prissy said. “It’s from a special recipe I just clipped out of Ladies Home Journal.”

  Nana pushed the plate away and stood. “I’m not hungry. If I ate that I’d just have gas all night.” She coughed and dragged a hand across her forehead. “I’m not gonna last more than a couple of days, anyway. Better keep the Neptune Society on speed-dial.”

  After introducing Jack to Nana, we spent several minutes listening to a discussion about meatloaf, adult diapers, and imminent death. Tex then emerged from the basement carrying a bottle filled with a green liquid.

  “My energy drink is finally ready,” Tex said, pouring the concoction into a glass for Nana. “I call it, Chica Loca.”

  Nana grabbed the glass of green juice like she’d been lost in the desert and was dying of thirst. “Not a moment too soon,” she said, gulping down the slime.

  As she drank, we all held our breath. I was worried that the old woman might end up glowing in the dark or, god forbid, ask for Mr. Peepers again. I noticed that Jack’s expression seemed to waver; something that was a cross between amusement and horror.

  “Wow, this Chica Loca stuff really hits the spot,” Nana said, her voice perking up. “I’m feeling better already.”

  The endorsement was enough for Prissy, Natalie, and Mo to all try the drink. Jack and I declined an offer of the elixir, but everyone else was singing its praises as our pizza was delivered. Tex brought out a second bottle and poured another round of the concoction for my roommates. That’s when I began to see some changes in my friends.

  “I haven’t...felt this good since...I think it was 1983 when I smoked some weed,” Nana said.

  “Betta than a Scream...ing Orgasmmm,” Natalie agreed.

  “Maybe that geek of yours...does have pot...ential,” Mo said to Natalie.

  Prissy was over fiddling with Nana’s stair scooter, when Tex said to Jack and me, “Perhaps I should have mentioned that, while Chica Loca does have herbal and medical benefits, it also involves a process whereby sugars are converted into cellular energy that produce e
thanol and carbon dioxide as a waste product.”

  “You’re trying to tell us that they’re getting drunk,” I said, stating what was now obvious.

  “In the vernacular, yes,” Tex said. “The alcohol by volume in Chica Loca is in the eightieth percentile.”

  Behind us, we heard Prissy yell, “I think I’ve managed to increase the speed.” We turned and saw Nana’s transvestite great-grandson zipping up the stairs at a high rate of speed, his orange hair flying behind him as he held onto the contraption like he was in some weird stair-gliding rodeo.

  My roommates, including Nana, all went over and began taking turns on the stairway stallion.

  I turned to Jack and said, “Wanna play rodeo, cowboy?”

  He smiled and took my hand. As we headed for the bedroom, he said, “I think you should save a horse and ride a cowboy.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “You’re going to drown,” I said, moaning. “And I think we’re out of hot water.”

  We were in the shower. Jack finally came up for air. “Too bad. I was just getting started.”

  He was lying. The truth was, we’d started last night and then again this morning, finishing with each of us taking turns on our knees, in what Tex would probably term, coital-induced prayer.

  Thanks to the shower play, Jack was running late for his plane, so we got dressed in a hurry. As he was about to leave, I dragged a towel through my wet hair and asked, “When do you think I’ll see you again?”

  He stopped at the bedroom door and came back to me. “Sooner rather than later, I hope.” He kissed me and must have sensed my hesitation. “What is it, Kate?”

  I sighed, stepped back. “It just seems that lately...I never know...” I took a breath. “What I mean is…I wish you weren’t so far away all the time.”

  “DC is where I’m assigned.” There was a hesitation. “There’s also a situation.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “It’s complicated, part of the reason I’m in DC.”

  I took another step back. “What are you talking about?”

  His gaze drifted to the window then came back to me. He exhaled. “My ex. She lives in DC, and…”

  I turned away from him. “I see.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s...”

  “I think I do.” My eyes began to fill. “You’d better go. You’ll miss your plane.”

  I heard the door close behind me as he slipped out of the room at the same time tears started rolling down my cheeks.

  I fell back into bed and spent the next hour crying and wondering if it would always be like this. I thought about my life; how someone was always going away.

  It seemed like a dismal pattern, repeating itself. First it was my father who was murdered when I was a child. When I was in college there were a couple of boyfriends who’d made promises that were never kept. Then my cheating ex-husband came along. And, now Jack. Maybe I was just destined to be alone.

  ***

  It was noon by the time I finally recovered enough to throw on some clothes and drive to the station. We’d planned to work late in order to interview Marla West, so my hours were flexible.

  Jessica was already at her desk. Her beady eyes lifted as I stowed my purse and Bernie settled in. “Must have been a rough night.”

  I pulled some paperwork out of my in-basket, not responding. After my morning with Jack, a go around with Jessica was the last thing I needed.

  “Do you have allergies?” Jessica asked. “Because I take this medication that does wonders for runny, puffy eyes.”

  My gaze came slowly over to her. “Mind your own business.”

  “Wow, somebody must have popped a pissy pill.” She sipped her coffee. “You remind me of the way you were in high school.”

  I went back to my paperwork. “Leave it alone, Jessica.”

  “I mean your moodiness. You really haven’t changed.”

  I had no desire to take a little trip down memory lane with her. “I hardly even knew you or spoke to you in high school.”

  “That was part of the problem,” she huffed. “And there was that other situation…”

  She seemed suddenly emotional, unable to continue. I stared over at her for a long moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Brian Hopper.” She spat the name out and tossed down her pen. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

  It took a moment before the name registered. “What about him?”

  “He was going to ask me to the prom, until you interfered.”

  I shook my head, remembering the goofball from high school who I’d dated a couple of times. “I had no idea. The only reason I went out with him is that he kept asking until he finally wore me down.”

  “You don’t realize what you did.”

  I was at a loss to understand why Jessica was so upset about someone like Brian Hopper. He was like all the other high school boys I knew—a case of testosterone induced lecherous stupidity.

  “Listen, Jessica. I’m sorry if you think I stole your boyfriend. But you need to hear this loud and clear. Brian Hopper was an idiot with bad skin and even worse breath. He was...”

  “My first,” Jessica said her eyes suddenly brimming. “He made promises to me and I believed him. We might have gotten married someday.” She sniffed. “I’ve never been married.”

  I exhaled, slowly. “So this is what it’s been about all these years. You’ve hated me because you think I stole the boy who popped your cherry?”

  “You don’t have to put it so crudely.” Her eyes bore into me. “We were in love. You ruined that.”

  “I had no idea about your relationship. If I’d known, I never would have gone out with him. I’m sorry for that.”

  The only good thing to come out of our conversation was the silence between us that lasted all afternoon. There’s also something about someone else’s misery that makes you feel better about your own problems. Still, as the afternoon wore on, I found my mind drifting back to Jack, about how his ex-wife was living in DC, something he’d never bothered to tell me. Now I understood why he’d gone to work for homeland security. I wondered if they were planning to get back together.

  ***

  We met up with Pearl just after six that evening on the sidewalk in front of Discrete Escort Services on Sunset Boulevard. The office was small and nondescript. I imagined that most of the services the company provided were probably arranged over the Internet or by phone, and that few, if any, of their clients actually came to the building.

  After showing our credentials, a receptionist led us to a back office where we met Marla West. The business manager for Discrete was probably in her mid-fifties. She was short and wiry, and looked like she’d spent too much time in the sun. She reminded me of women who starve themselves and work out constantly to keep from gaining weight.

  Pearl made the introductions and explained why we were there as Bernie settled at my feet.

  “I don’t know anyone by the name of China Warner,” West said. “Our escorts are all independent contractors. They don’t work directly for the company, but rather charge a shared fee for their services.”

  “Understood,” Pearl said. “But you must interview your escorts prior to their employment?”

  I remembered that Natalie had an interview with West later that night as she said, “Usually, but I don’t keep any formal records of interviews. If the escort is someone who meets our standards, we make an informal agreement resulting in the shared fee arrangement.”

  “And what exactly would those standards be?” I asked, at the same time wondering if Jessica’s silent treatment would be permanent.

  West’s hazel eyes came over to me. “We look for men and women who are not only physically attractive, but are intelligent, interesting, and have varied talents and abilities.”

  As we’d agreed beforehand, I was now playing the bitch to Pearl’s smooth elder statesman role. “You mean it takes a lot of talent and abil
ity to screw? That’s funny, I always thought it came naturally.”

  West folded her arms. Her voice kicked up a notch. “Our escorts make a financial arrangement for companionship. Once that arrangement is made, what happens next is strictly between the client and the escort. I won’t deny that sometimes clients become sexually involved with our escorts, but if you’re insinuating that we’re employing prostitutes, you’re mistaken.”

  “I’ve seen your fee schedule, Ms. West. Why would anyone pay $600 for a date, unless it was for sex?”

  “Companionship, shared interests, social engagements. There are lots of reasons for people of means to use our services that don’t involve sex.”

  “Bullshit. We’re getting a search warrant.”

  West’s complexion darkened. “For what? I don’t understand.”

  “Unless you want to start telling us the truth about China Warner working for your agency, we’re calling a judge and getting a warrant to look through all your files. When we’re finished with that, we’ll see if the IRS is interested in reviewing the so called independent contractor arrangement you have with your employees.”

  West pushed her black hair with dark red highlights out of her eyes. “We have nothing to hide.”

  “I doubt that. Either you start telling us the truth or I’ll start making the phone calls now. I know the judge who’s on call all night for warrant service.”

  West leaned back in her chair. I could feel the hostility radiating from her. “All right, I do remember China, only because she had a unique name and appearance. She was a contractor who had a relationship with us several years ago. I remember that she had an interest in the entertainment industry. Apparently that paid off because I recently saw her on, Hollywood Daybreak. Other than that, and what I’ve read about her tragic death in the papers, I don’t know anything about her.”

  Pearl broke in, “China appears to have continued a relationship with a man she’d dated while working here. His name was Malik Brown.”

  West’s face gave up nothing. “Never heard of him.”

  “How about, Marvin Chauncey,” I said. “He’s a talent agent who was pimping China to Brown while she worked for Discrete.”