#3 Hollywood Crazy: A Holllywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  West’s gaze was unflinching, her tone sharp again. “I never met the man and if what you’re suggesting is true, we wouldn’t stand for it. We don’t allow intermediaries to interfere in the arrangements we have with our contractors.”

  “That’s because you’re the pimps. You don’t want anyone else skimming the cream.”

  “I don’t think this conversation is productive,” West said, closing down. “Clearly, you don’t even have a basic understanding of our company or the standards we set.”

  I intentionally raised my voice, playing the last bitch card in my deck. “I understand all about your standards—your company is a front for prostitution. Unless you tell us what you know about China Warner and the relationship she had with Malik Brown and Marvin Chauncey, I will personally make it my business to shut you down.”

  Marla West leaned forward and glowered at me. “Detective, you need to know something. Over the years, many others have tried and failed to do what you’re proposing. Discrete is a legitimate business and if you try to interfere with our operations...”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  West continued, her eyes like darts, “If you try to interfere, we will take legal action against you and your department.”

  After another ten minutes of verbal jousting, we left Marla West. We met up at our cars down the block.

  “I do believe Ms. West was trying to deliver a message,” I said.

  Pearl agreed. “She clearly doesn’t like the threat of anyone looking into her business affairs.”

  “I’m going to do a little research, see if I can find out who her business partners are. I have a feeling there are some dirty little secrets that Ms. West wants to keep covered up.”

  Pearl gave me a serious look and lowered his voice. “Just be careful, and keep me in the loop. You dig down deep enough and there’s no telling what you’ll uncover or who you’re going to make unhappy.”

  Jessica spoke up for the first time all night. “I’m not feeling very well. I’m going home and getting some rest.”

  Pearl looked at me after Jessica had gone. “She didn’t say a word all evening. You two getting along?”

  I brushed a hand through my hair and smiled. “You know, I think we’ve finally found some common ground. It even feels a little like we’re back in high school again.”

  Pearl cocked his head and smiled. “Let’s hope you both make the cheerleading squad.”

  “Try outs are tomorrow,” I said. “See you then.”

  As I got in my car, I felt some of the day’s stress finally lifting. I smiled, thinking about Jessica. My new partner had never gotten past her high school days. Jessica Barlow was in love with Brian Hopper, the cherry popper.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The next morning Natalie called me as Bernie and I settled in at my desk. I’d worked late at the station after our meeting with Marla West and, when I got home, everyone was already in bed.

  “It’s official,” Natalie said. “I’m an escort for Discrete. I have me a date tonight that Marla set up. I just hope it’s not with some horny lumpfish who wants to bump the uglies.”

  “Natalie this isn’t a good idea. Escort services are a front for prostitution. Their customers pay a lot of money and expect to have sex in return.”

  “I wasn’t born yesterday, so don’t get your fiddles in a faddle. If things get dicey, Mo will be close by. I also got me some new moves that I learned in me marital arts class.”

  “You mean martial arts.”

  “Whatever. I’m like one of them ninja warriors now. I can whack the old nut sack quicker than lager turns to piss.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  It went on like that for nearly twenty minutes, Natalie telling what she’d do to various parts of her date’s anatomy if he got out of line, and me pleading with her not to go through with the date. When I hung up the phone in defeat, I realized that Jessica had been listening to my conversation.

  “Your friend must be out of her mind.”

  “She is rather stubborn.” My new partner looked like she hadn’t slept all night. Maybe she needed to take some of her puffy eye medicine. “But we all have our little faults, Jessica.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  It looked like we were back to our pre-Hopper popper discussion days. I thought about trying to give peace a chance again, but realized that the piece Jessica gave up fifteen years ago would make that impossible.

  I spent most of the day sifting through paperwork. We planned to follow Marla West after she left work tonight to see if Discrete’s business manager did anything interesting in her spare time. I’d run a check on the escort service, but so far had only learned that it was operating under the corporate name, Midland Enterprises. I’d been unable to attach any names to that company.

  Just before we left to tail West, I got a copy of the Malik Brown’s autopsy report. There was nothing notable about the findings. The cause of death was a single nine millimeter round to the brain.

  I decided to call my friend, Brie Henner, and see if there was anything of interest not detailed in the report.

  “It’s pretty cut and dried,” Brie said after I got her on the line. “From the position of the body, it looks like the killer had the victim kneel down before he or she walked up and put a bullet in the back of his head.”

  “Your basic execution.”

  “Pretty much. I talked to your SID division and they’re going to run the bullet, and also those that killed our bride and groom, through NIBIN. It’s a long shot, but if we get a match on any of the rounds I’ll let you know.”

  About ten years ago, the ATF created NIBIN, the National Integrated Ballistics Information Network. It’s an automated database that tracks bullets and casings from crime scenes and victims. It was standard procedure to look for ballistic markers that might tie the bullets to a gun or another crime scene, but Brie and I both knew from past experience the likelihood of a match was slim.

  We chatted aimlessly for a few minutes more until Brie asked me how things were going with Jack. I walked away so that Jessica couldn’t hear the rest of my conversation.

  “It seems that part of the reason he took the job with homeland is because his ex-wife lives in DC,” I said.

  “Do they have children together?”

  “No.” I sighed. “I think he’s still seeing her. Maybe they’re planning on getting back together.”

  There was a moment of silence and I thought Brie might be struggling to find something positive to say about the situation. Finally, she said, “What about Mack? Did you call him?”

  “No. I’ve been a little busy with work and I’m just...I guess I’m still recovering from what Jack told me. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Kate, you told me before that you were unsure about your long-term prospects with Jack. I think you should call Mack. What do you have to lose?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Jessica was pointing to her watch. “You’re probably right, Brie. I’ve got to run. I’ll let you know if I get up the nerve.”

  ***

  “I can’t believe I’m in this death trap with that fur ball again,” Jessica said, motioning to Bernie who was in Olive’s backseat.

  “Can we please go back to yesterday’s code of silence?” I asked.

  We’d been outside West’s office for almost an hour waiting for her to leave. I was bored and knew I was playing with fire, but couldn’t resist bringing up yesterday’s conversation. “So you really slept with Brian Hopper?”

  “At least I didn’t marry some idiot who screwed his secretary on videotape and left me broke.”

  Ouch! Jessica had struck a nerve. “At least I’m not sitting around pining for him. You’re still in love with Brian, aren’t you?”

  “No.” I thought I saw steam coming out of Jessica’s ears. “It’s just that every time I’m around you, I’m reminded of what you did.”

  I chuckled. “I didn’t do anything but
agree to a couple of dates with a horny little weasel.”

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. Her tongue flickered like one of those snakes you see in a glass cage at the zoo. “Are you telling me that you also had sex with Brian?”

  I tried my best, but just couldn’t control the spasms of laughter that hit me. “Jessica, you are out of your mind.”

  I saw Marla West leaving her office as my new partner said, “And you’re a slut.”

  I started the engine, now laughing at her ridiculous comment. “Try and calm down. I’ve heard that slitting your wrists is an effective way of lowering your blood pressure.”

  As I pulled away from the curb to follow West, I decided things couldn’t get any worse with my new partner. Jessica thought I’d humped the Hopper, the man she still loved.

  The truth was, I’d lost my virginity to a dumb jock named, Jimmy Collins, in my senior year. We’d dated a few times and ended up on the beach one night. The experience had been fumbled from my point of view. The football player had been quick and disappointing.

  The more I thought about Jessica and her anger toward me, the more I worried. I was beginning to harbor doubts that she would have my back if we ever got into trouble. Jessica might even decide to help out the bad guy and shoot me.

  We followed West to a club called, Indigo, off Highland Boulevard. We waited ten minutes before I secured Bernie in the car and we went into the nightclub. Inside, we found the discotheque was a glare of blue neon and a blare of music that was so loud we couldn’t hear ourselves talk.

  We worked our way over to a table in the corner of the club that was away from the action, but gave us a partial view of West. The business manager for Discrete was alone, sipping her drink. After ordering drinks and watching her for a few minutes, we noticed that she was eyeing the bar as though she was expecting someone.

  “She’s using her phone,” Jessica said between musical sets. “She’s taking pictures of someone.”

  I watched as West rested the phone on her table and partially blocked it with her purse. It looked like she was shooting video of the bar. My gaze drifted over to where the phone was aimed and I nearly fainted. Marla West was shooting video of Natalie and some guy at the bar.

  “It’s my friend, Natalie,” I said to Jessica, motioning to the far end of the bar.

  Jessica’s pencil-thin brows lifted. “Why do you suppose she’s…”

  The song “Scream,” by Usher, began pulsing over the speakers and I couldn’t hear another word that Jessica said. A moment later I saw the shadow of a large figure moving rapidly across the dance floor to the bar area. Then bodies began jostling, someone screamed over the blast of music, and the club’s bouncers came out of nowhere.

  When I pushed through the crowd to the bar area, I realized that Mo was sitting on top of Natalie’s date. The man was on his back, writhing in pain. It looked like Mo had slugged him. The music abruptly stopped.

  “Kate, you need to put a leash on this squirrel,” Mo said when she spotted me. “He wanted baby sister to do the nasty.”

  Jessica and I identified ourselves to the bouncers as Natalie came over and said, “The wazzock wanted me to go to the loo with him and suck the salami. That’s when I gave my sistah the high sign and whacked the hairy saddlebags.”

  Mo finally let Natalie’s date up. The man was large, red-faced, out of breath, and enraged.

  “I did not ask that fucking woman for sex,” he screamed, still holding onto that part of his anatomy where the blonde ninja warrior had played slap the happy sack.

  “Watch your mouth,” I said as I cuffed him. “That woman is my friend.”

  Jessica tugged on my sleeve. “What?” I said, turning to her after I had the cuffs locked.

  “He’s Harmon Sanders.”

  “I don’t’ care if he’s Colonel Sanders.”

  She shook her head. “The mayor’s chief of staff.”

  I took a closer look at the red-faced suspect, who was now cursing at us. Jessica was right. I remembered now that Sanders had attended the Clinton-Warner wedding with his wife. Now he was dating an escort who worked for the same company as the dead bride. It all seemed too much of a coincidence.

  “I’ll have your fucking job,” Sanders screamed at me as I called for a unit to do the transport.

  After the call, I looked up at him and smiled. “You get one phone call, Mr. Sanders. Wanna call the wife?”

  While Jessica held onto the raging rhino, I excused myself and followed Marla West who I saw was heading for the exit.

  “What’s the rush?” I asked, heading West off on the sidewalk.

  She made eye contact, but only for a moment. “It’s getting late. I just stopped for a nightcap.”

  “And a little video session?” I said, motioning to her purse.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You were taking video of Sanders and his date. I saw the whole thing.”

  She hesitated, her gaze moving away. Finally, she looked back at me and said, “I just like the club’s décor. I’m thinking of redoing my house.”

  “I’ll bet. Nothing like the tranquility of flashing blue neon.”

  West pushed past me and disappeared down the street. I thought about what Mo and the others had said about Discrete getting protection. Now I wondered who was providing it and exactly how far up that protection went.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  After the fiasco at Club Indigo, I agreed to drop Jessica at the station and then give Natalie a ride home. On the way, Jessica made the mistake of telling my friend that she was crazy for taking the job as an escort. My new partner didn’t realize she was poking a stick at a hornet’s nest when she targeted Natalie.

  “You’re quite the snarky one, aren’t you,” Natalie said. “Problems with mummy growing up?”

  “What are you talking about?” Jessica demanded, turning and staring at Natalie who was in the backseat with Bernie.

  “Just wunderin’ if she locked you in a closet or somethin’. Being a bitch doesn’t come naturally to most people, course you could be an exception.”

  “You’re probably an expert on the subject,” Jessica snarled. “Considering you’re Sexton’s best friend.”

  “Or, maybe you just need to get laid,” Natalie said, unfazed. “How long’s it been since you did the gasp and grunt?”

  As we pulled into the station parking lot, Jessica said, “That’s none of your business.”

  I’d had it with Jessica’s comments about both me and Natalie. “It was 1997 to be exact, Natalie. Jessica had sex with Brian Hopper, the cherry popper.”

  Jessica went into an incoherent rant as we pulled away and left the screaming banshee in the parking lot.

  “Wow, that one needs a checkup from the neck up,” Natalie said. “Better get her to the department’s shrink.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. Jessica’s problem is genetic, Natalie. She was born with bitch DNA.”

  We drove home, continuing to disparage my new partner until the conversation eventually turned to Natalie’s evening with Harmon Sanders.

  “What exactly did Marla West tell you about your date with Sanders?” I asked.

  “Nuthin much, just where I was to meet the bloke and that I was to be nice and polite to him. She said he was a businessman from outta town.” Natalie smiled. “If I’d known he worked for the mayor, maybe I woulda gone easier on the tater tots.”

  “Marla West was using her phone to make a video of you two at the bar. I think she was planning to use it against Sanders.”

  “You mean some kind of blackmail?”

  “Yes. You need to end your employment with Discrete. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Already sent Marla a text. I quit.”

  “Thank God.”

  As we pulled into the driveway, Natalie changed the subject, asking me when I was planning to see Jack again. I told her what had happened.

  “If he’s with his ex, drop him like a dead pecker,�
�� Natalie said.

  We stopped in the front yard to let Bernie do his business. “I don’t know for sure that he’s with her. He just said something about her living in DC and that’s part of the reason he took the job there.”

  “I’d say that’s two strikes. What about that private dick you were seeing?”

  “Mack’s in South America, but I’ve been thinking about calling him.”

  “I remember him from that Halloween party. He’s a serious Clooney clone, Kate. Make the call.”

  “Okay,” I said, but still wasn’t sure that I was ready to do it.

  After Bernie finished his yard duty we went inside and found Mo and Tex in the family room. Natalie’s boyfriend came over to her like a love-sick puppy.

  “Mo told me what happened,” Tex cooed. “Are you alright?”

  “Just a bit of a toe bruise from the ball bashing,” Natalie said, dropping her purse on the coffee table in the family room. “Could you rub me feet?”

  “Of course, my love dumpling.”

  I looked at Mo and we did a simultaneous eye roll before she made a gagging gesture.

  While Tex worked on Natalie, Mo said, “I talked to the producer for Hollywood Daybreak, Nat. We’re set to appear on the show day after tomorrow. We need to do some serious shopping tomorrow.”

  “I can’t wait,” Natalie said. “While I’m on the show maybe I can also give them the low down on Charm’n Harmon, the mayor’s frisky friend.”

  I said, “I think you should be careful about what you say, Natalie. The mayor has a lot of power. I wouldn’t want you making enemies.”

  What I hadn’t said is that I also didn’t want them going on the show and talking about the wedding murders, but I knew I had no way of stopping that. I made a mental note to again try getting in touch with China’s former co-host, Holly Sawyer.

  Natalie said that she’d think it over, which I knew meant, “I’ll say whatever happens to pop out of my bloody mouth.”

  “I’ve been doing some thinking ‘bout what happened tonight, Kate,” Mo said. “Maybe the protection I heard that Discrete’s been gettin’ is because West records their clients. She threatens to use the video unless somebody high up looks the other way.”