Hollywood Forbidden: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  I had no idea what she meant and decided it was better not to ask.

  When we got to Josh Robbins’ apartment, his mother told us he wasn’t home but that we might find him at the Beacon Street Carwash, where he sometimes worked for spending money. We found Sissy’s former boyfriend drying cars at the back of the lot.

  “What now?” he said, when we came over to him. “I don’t know nuthin’ more.”

  Mo was in her ex-pimp take charge mode. She grabbed Robbins by his shirt, pulled him over to an area near some recycling bins, away from the other employees. “Listen to me, sonny boy. You got yourself one more chance to come clean ‘bout the boys who took Sissy or I’m gonna deposit your sorry ass in one of them bins.”

  Robbins looked over at the trash receptacles, then back at the large black woman who had him by the throat. He swallowed. “Okay, there’s something I remembered, but it’s all I know. There’s a kid that works down by the beach, sometimes he does lifeguarding. I heard he was working with Shaw finding the girls.”

  “What’s his name?” Mo demanded.

  “I don’t know. I swear. All I know is that I heard he and Shaw were buds.”

  After several more demands and threats, it was clear that Mo had gotten everything she could out of Josh Robbins. Before we all walked away, she gave him a final piece of her mind. “I’m gonna find those girls and if I ever get wind of you being within five hundred miles of any of them, I’m coming after your sorry ass and putting you in Mr. Roth’s funeral home.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  “So the four of you really put Marybeth Wilson’s body in a coffin?” Buck asked. He’d laughed so hard I thought he might pop the buttons on his shirt. Or maybe it was just hopeful anticipation.

  “Took us awhile but we finally got her snug as a bug, all sealed up.” We were at the police station, in Buck’s office, waiting for Spencer and Baxter to come in so we could all meet. Bernie circled once before settling into a corner.

  “I would’ve given a week’s pay to have seen it.”

  “Next time I’ll be sure you’re invited.” I changed the subject, telling him what Josh Robbins had said about Derek Shaw working with a kid who might be a lifeguard. “Peter Roth knows the guy who does the summer hiring at the beach. He’s going to see if he can get us a list of names.”

  We both turned as Julie Spencer arrived at the station. She led a young man in handcuffs down the hallway, taking him into one of the interview rooms.

  Lieutenant Sloan then came by and said, “Spencer finally found Brian Green, the courthouse security screener. We’ve got him in the box if you want to take your shot.”

  Buck and I stopped outside the interview room. “Where’s your partner,” I asked Spencer as she came out of the room.

  “A little under the weather.” She motioned to the sullen young man behind the glass. “He’s been hiding out with his cousin for the last few days. I found him, I want him.”

  Buck shrugged. “Why don’t you and Kate take him? LT and me will watch.”

  Spencer tried a weak protest that she couldn’t pull off about having an outsider sitting in on her interview, probably hoping that Buck would assist. The detective wore a short blue skirt and tight blouse, something that might have been more appropriate for a nightclub than a police station.

  “I’ll take the lead,” Spencer growled as I was making arrangements for Bernie to stay with Buck.

  I knew from reading his courthouse personnel file that Brian Green was twenty-five. He was tall and gangly with brown hair that was buzz cut on the sides, longer on top. His brown eyes studied us intently as we took seats across from him.

  “Why am I here?” Green asked after introductions.

  “Were you on duty, working at the courthouse the afternoon of August 14th?” Spencer asked.

  “Of course I was. I still don’t understand what this is about.”

  “We’re trying to determine how the suspects gained access to the building. We believe someone working there may have helped them.”

  Green folded his arms. “I had nothing to do with it and I don’t know why I’m being questioned.”

  “You abandoned your job after the shooting. Your supervisor says you haven’t been at work since.”

  Green hesitated, cutting his eyes between the two of us. “I’ve been helping my cousin…he’s got some family problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “He and his mom aren’t getting along.”

  “So you abandoned your job to offer moral support to your cousin. It doesn’t add up, Brian. Tell us what’s really going on.”

  His gaze fell away from us. He hugged his sides and sighed. “I want a lawyer.”

  Spencer glanced over at me, back at Green, the lines on her forehead deepening. “You haven’t been charged with anything.”

  Silence. No eye contact.

  “You need to talk to us, Brian.”

  Nothing.

  Spencer met my eyes again. I knew she wanted me to stay out of things but I decided to take a shot at him. “Look at me Brian.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor. I raised my voice, almost shouting. “Look at me, damn it.”

  His gaze finally came up to me.

  “You are going to be charged as an accessory to murder and kidnapping. When that happens there will be nothing I can do to help you out. Talk to us now and I’ll personally go to the DA and let him know that you cooperated. It’s your play. Make the right decision.” I folded my arms, waiting to see if the bluff went anywhere.

  “I needed the money.”

  I nodded. “Go on.”

  “My cousin and me, we’re…we’re in a relationship. His mom’s kicking him out. I took some money so we can get a place together.”

  “Who paid you?”

  He shook his head. “I got a couple of phone calls from a guy who called himself, Michael. He said he wanted an e-key to the courthouse and would pay me a thousand dollars for it. Like I said, I needed the money, so I agreed.”

  “How was the money and key exchanged?”

  I met him down by the harbor. He was on a motorcycle, wearing a helmet. He gave me the money for the key and took off.”

  Spencer butted in, asking about a plate number and make of the motorcycle but came up empty. My guess was that our suspect was the same man the shooter met when he ran from the courthouse and jumped on the back of a motorcycle but we had nothing to ID either of them.

  “What about Harvey Brill?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “He was your attorney on the DUI you got a few months back. How did you afford his fees?”

  He sighed. “Okay, the same guy paid for him.”

  “The one you gave the access key to?”

  He nodded. “We started talking a few months ago. He said he would help me out with the case if I agreed to help him out in the future.”

  I looked at Spencer as she said, “And all these months you’re dealing with this guy, you never once saw what he looked like?”

  Green shook his head. “It all went down like when the key was exchanged. He had a helmet on. All I know is he called himself Michael.”

  We went on to question Green about the sex club. He said he’d never heard the term Blue Hoods or anyone being involved in a sex cult. He also denied knowing anyone who was kidnapping girls and got paid by Brill. After a couple of hours going over his story multiple times from different directions, Spencer and I took a break and came out of the box.

  Spencer released a breath, dragged a hand through her blonde hair. She looked at Buck and said, “I think he’s just an idiot who made a bad decision for a few dollars, but I don’t think he knows anything more.”

  Buck nodded, looked over at me.

  “I think we’ve gotten as much as we can for now,” I said. “But it’s worth putting a tail on him just to be sure.”

  “I’m not wasting another minute following that idiot around,” Spencer fumed.r />
  “I’ll find someone else,” Buck said to her. “Let’s cut him loose for now, let the DA know what he did and see what kind of charges he wants to file.”

  After Green was released we met in the conference room with Spencer and Sloan. We spent the next hour going over everything we knew about the homicides and kidnappings in detail. We then focused in on what we’d found in Clay Aster’s safe deposit box, specifically the overhead photograph of the small house.

  “It doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen on the island,” Spencer said, examining one of several copies of the photograph of the house. “Maybe they took the girls to the mainland.”

  “Not according to Carly Lucia,” Buck said. “The games take place somewhere right here on the island.”

  Spencer used her tight low-cut blouse to her full advantage, leaning over toward Buck and referencing the photograph as she spoke. “The house looks like a shack. Maybe it’s been torn down.”

  If my partner noticed the two rockets pointing in his direction he didn’t let on.

  I studied my copy of the photograph. “What we need is someone who’s been on the island a long time. Someone who…” A light bulb came on. “Morty Grubbins.”

  “Who?” Sloan said.

  “He’s a retired actor who lives at the Stardust. He’s been on the island over twenty years.”

  “Come on,” Spencer said. “We’re now going to drag some eighty-year old fart into the case? Could we find another way to waste our time.”

  “He’s in his nineties,” I said, correcting her. “And I’ve never heard him fart.” Buck laughed as I turned to Sloan. “What have we got to lose?”

  Sloan shrugged. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

  ***

  Buck and I found Morty at the Stardust in a cooking class for the residents. He was wearing a beret, smoking his unlit cigar, and pouring batter into a frying pan.

  “Crepes,” Morty explained when we came over. “My specialty. Used to make them for the actresses on the set, fill them with whip crème and strawberries, and viola—an afternoon delight in more ways than one if you get my drift.”

  The little man smiled, puffed air, and went back to the frying pan. “Nothing like the French. They even have a National Crepe Day. The saying goes that if you can catch a crepe in a frying pan with your right hand while holding a gold coin in your left, you’ll have great fortune and wealth.” Morty demonstrated the feat, even removing his cigar with a flourish at the end and taking a little bow. “These are for Natalie.” His smile hinted at something perverse.

  “We’re here because we’re hoping you can help us out on our case,” I explained after we’d left the class.

  Morty tapped the unlit cigar with a finger, still wearing his beret. “Floyd Dane never lost a case. Still a legend in the windy city. Even got the fan mail to prove it.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, removing the photograph from my purse. “This house is supposedly somewhere on the island. We think it might be where the kidnapped girls were taken.”

  Morty studied the picture for a moment, handed it back. “About a half an hour away. Closer to Two Harbors than Avalon. Off the beaten path.”

  Two Harbors was the small town on the other side of the island. “You know where this house is?” Buck asked, dumbfounded.

  He nodded, removed the beret, and patted his silver hair back into place. “I’ll have to show you myself. Otherwise you’d never find it.”

  I turned to Buck. “Call it in. Line up whatever kind of swat team or goat team you’ve got on this island. We’re taking down the sex cult today.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  It was nightfall by the time we’d informed Lieutenant Sloan of what Morty had said, organized Catalina’s version of a SWAT Team, and made our way in Buck’s beat up truck down a dusty road west of Avalon. Morty sat between us with Bernie at my feet. The cab was cramped as we bounced and jostled our way to where Morty said he was sure the house was located.

  “Me and Martha Brodie used to come over this way a few years back,” Morty explained. “Martha liked to hike and then air out what God had given her. The house was abandoned, even then. Had some good times there. Martha was an eighty three year-old wild child. Wore me to a frazzle.”

  I had a vision of Morty and Martha cavorting in the nude that I tried to push away as Buck glanced over at me, his grin just short of exploding into laughter.

  We had allowed Lieutenant Sloan, Julie Spencer, and about a half-dozen heavily armed cops to go ahead of us. The equipment and cops were vastly short of making up a real SWAT Team, but it was the best we could do on short notice. As the road turned I saw them stop and make a run for a small house in a clearing about a hundred yards from the road.

  Morty waited in the truck while Buck, Bernie, and I went in behind the other officers. The house was small, consisting of three tiny bedrooms, one bath, a living room and kitchen. It took less than five minutes to secure the residence and realize we’d come up empty.

  I stood in the living room with Buck and released a breath in frustration as a couple of the cops went out into the backyard, the beams from their flashlights shining into the heavily wooded area behind the house.

  I turned to Buck. “I wonder how long the house has been abandoned.”

  “Hard to say. There are padlocks on all the bedroom doors so the girls could have been held here at one time before they moved their operations someplace else.”

  I glanced around the house, imagining the horrors that might have gone on here, the girls held for some kind of sex games, being attacked and tortured. It sent a wave of nausea through me. I decided to take Bernie into the backyard for some air.

  As Bernie watered some dead bushes I saw one of the cops had stopped about a thirty yards from where I stood. His flashlight seemed to be fixed on an area where the yard gave way to the surrounding forest. After a moment I took Bernie over to where he was standing.

  “I think we’ve got something here,” the cop said. He shined his light on the ground a few feet from where we stood. “It’s probably been awhile but you can see the ground has been turned over right here in a couple of places.” He met my eyes. “I got a feeling something or someone’s buried here.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Grace sees the shadows beginning to lift around them. She and Sissy have spent hours in the woods. The men had come for them but hadn’t found where they were hiding. She doesn’t think the other girls have been as lucky. There was lots of screaming last night but it stopped hours ago. Panic sweeps through Grace. Maybe the other girls are all dead.

  “I have to pee,” Sissy says.

  Grace shifts her body so that Sissy can get out. Her muscles are stiff and cramped from being hidden beneath the log all night. “Hurry and come right back.”

  Sissy is only gone for a minute when Grace hears the man’s voice. She recognizes it as the one who calls himself Lamech. “Come here,” he demands. “Where’s the other girl?”

  She hears Sissy crying then a slapping sound. The man is attacking Sissy.

  Grace scrambles out of her hiding spot and confronts the man. “Stop. I’m here.” She sees that Sissy is trembling and goes over to her side.

  “Where were you hiding?” Lamech demands.

  Grace holds Sissy in her arms, points to the fallen log. “In there.”

  The man takes a step closer to her, lifting a hand. She thinks he’s also going to strike her. Instead, he hesitates and runs his hand over her cheek. “I like you,” he says. “You’re smart.”

  “Where were they hiding?” It’s the voice of the other man, the one who is called Priest.

  “In the log,” Lamech says. “Let’s get them back to the house.”

  When they’re back in the house, Sissy is taken to her room and locked in. Grace turns to the men. “Can she…stay with me? She’s scared.”

  The man who caressed her shakes his hooded head and pushes her down the hallway. She sees that the other doors ar
e closed, the padlocks all in place. Maybe the other girls somehow made it through the night and are back in their rooms.

  After she’s locked in the same room as before, Grace sits against the door listening. She hears movement from what is probably the living room and then several minutes later a door closing. She thinks the men have left.

  Grace moves over to the wall, calling out, wondering if Sissy is okay. “Hello. It’s Grace. Are you alright, Sissy?”

  She hears movement, thinks Sissy is coming over to the wall. She calls out again before hearing the whimpering on the other side of the wall. “Talk to me,” Grace says. “Tell me that you’re okay.”

  There’s soft crying again before a quiet voice says, “It’s me, Wendy. I’m here with Sissy.”

  Grace realizes it’s the first time the two girls have been locked in the room together. “Tell me what happened last night, Wendy. Are you okay?”

  Grace hears the girl sobbing before her desperate, pleading voice comes back again. “I was chosen. I’m going to die.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  I realized that Morty had left the truck and was now standing on the back porch with Buck and Julie Spencer. I went over to them with Bernie and said, “We think there are some bodies buried in shallow graves over there.” I motioned to where the cops were still searching.

  As they went over to check it out Morty took a seat on a wooden bench. I sat down next to him. Even before he spoke I could see the sadness in his weathered face.

  “It’s just not the same anymore.”

  “What’s that, Morty?”

  He found my eyes. “The world.” He shook his head. “Girls kidnapped. Held hostage for sex games. Murdered.” He released a slow breath, tears welling in his gray eyes. “The world’s not right anymore, Kate.”

  I nodded and hugged him. “I know, Morty. Things like this just shouldn’t happen.”

  He wheezed out another breath, dried his eyes with a handkerchief. “Maybe it’s time that Floyd Dane checked out of the big hotel.”