by M. Z. Kelly
Dr. Chan was in her thirties, petite, with dark hair. She was a little on the serious side. “Tell me what you mean.”
I took a moment trying to focus my thoughts. “I understand why my mother never tried to contact me, still…” My chest heaved. “Maybe I’m just afraid that she wasn’t the person I want her to be. It could be that there’s another reason she never contacted me.”
“You’re afraid that she didn’t love you because she gave you up.”
Tears fell onto my cotton blouse and I nodded.
She gave me a moment, waiting until I had some composure. “What you’re feeling is something that every child who’s ever had a parent that wasn’t involved in their life feels. It’s an insecurity and uncertainty born of abandonment.”
I drew in a breath and released it slowly. “I think you’re right, even though I know why my mother couldn’t be a part of my life...” I focused on her. “…it makes me wonder if she truly loved me.”
I had the impression Dr. Chan was feeling the impact of what I’d said before she went on. “Have you ever gone some place, maybe taken a trip and realized the place wasn’t anything like you imagined it would be?”
After a moment I said, “Years ago I went to an island in the Caribbean. Part of the island was dry, almost like a desert. It was nothing like I expected.”
“It’s the same thing with people, Kate. You will never know your mother, but when you read her letter you will get a glimpse of who she was, some insight into her life and thoughts. I think you’re right to wait to read the letter. You need to spend some time processing the emotions you’re feeling. When you’re ready, you’ll know it. You’ve waited a lifetime for this, don’t rush the process.”
We went on, discussing my mother and the man who had raised me for a few minutes before the discussion turned to my relationships. “I got a call from a man I recently met. His name is Noah Fraser. He’s a veterinarian. He wants to take me to dinner.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“It’s just that I’ve been seeing someone else—Hud Mackenzie. We were involved for a brief period of time a few months ago when I’d broken up with my former boyfriend. I think we rushed things then, so I’ve taken things slowly. We’ve only gone out to dinner and for drinks, nothing more, but I know he wants to take things to the next level.”
“And you’re not ready for that.”
I shook my head.
“And Noah, what are your feelings about him?”
“I like him…” I smiled. “A lot, I think.”
“Then, if I were you, I’d go to dinner with him and take things from there. If he’s someone you want to continue to see…then you can make a decision about Hud.”
***
“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” I said to Natalie and Mo.
We were in the backseat of Nana’s limo the night after my counseling session. Nana’s chauffeur was driving us to Apschlitz, or Ape Shit, Studios, as everyone called it. Nana was our former landlord who had recently become a multi-millionaire thanks to a husband who dropped dead on their wedding day. Claude Whipple had left everything he owned to Nana, over the objection of his ghoulish family who were still contesting his will.
Nana was in her eighties with more wrinkles than a cheap suit, blue-gray hair, and a set of oversized dentures that made me think an elderly dinosaur had escaped from Jurassic Park. She was also taking a sexual rejuvenation drug that had affected both her sex drive and her personality.
We were all headed to a rehearsal for their TV show, Hollywood Girlz. Natalie and Mo were co-stars of the sit-com, while Nana had recently convinced the director to give her a small part in the show. I’d recently also made an appearance on the series, after losing a stupid bet to my friends. The result had been total humiliation that I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover from.
“Maybe they’ll give you another walk-on part in the show,” Nana said to me in her high-pitched warble. Bernie was resting at my feet and lifted his head as she spoke, probably irritated by her voice. “Even though you don’t have half the acting chops I’ve got.”
“Maybe your own part on our show will be short,” Natalie said to Nana, who I knew irritated her. My beautiful British friend had on a mini-skirt that showed off her long, silky legs. “It could be that one of the scripts will call for you to drop dead.”
My friends sometimes give the word tactless a whole new dimension, something that Mo also demonstrated as she said to Nana, “If we’re lucky, Saint Peter will make a house call, take you home with him tonight.”
Mo, a former madam who tried to get girls off the streets, was fond of wigs. Tonight her big head was adorned with a blonde topper that looked like something Lady Gaga might have rejected.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Nana countered. “I’ve still got a lot of living to do.” Her gray eyes swung over in the direction of our driver and she licked her ruby lips. Her chauffeur was twenty-something and looked like he could be Channing Tatum’s brother.
Mo shook her blonde head and made a sound like something I’d once heard coming from a riding stable. “You need to give that chassis of yours a rest before the wheels come off the bus.”
The elderly bus frowned. “You can’t take what you’ve got with you, unless you’re Kate.” Her gaze swung in my direction. “I hear you’re a born again virgin.”
“What’s it like havin’ your cherry back?” Natalie asked me. “Do you even remember what it’s like to have sex?”
“Unless Kate’s got herself a degree in ancient history, it’s doubtful,” Mo said before I could answer. She chortled. “Maybe the last time she did the dirty deed it was with King Henry.”
Natalie’s voice pitched higher. “Is it true that bloke was hung like a stallion?”
I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath. “I wouldn’t know since he’s been dead over four hundred years.”
My friends were unhappy over my decision to go slow when it came to relationships. Hud and I had been dating for a couple of months and they knew things hadn’t gotten past the handholding stage. My decision made about as much sense to my friends as a Chinese newspaper.
Natalie was now holding a hand mirror and primping. “What’s happening with that doggy stud you were seeing?”
I felt the need to move the discussion in a different direction and defend my love life, so I said, “We’re going out to dinner this week.”
“Are you going to re-pop your cherry on your first date?” Nana asked.
“No. And I…my…” My lungs deflated. Why did I even bother?
Mo took over for Nana. “Knowing Kate, she’ll wait until there’s snow flurries in hell before she gives it up again.”
They went on for a few minutes, each of them speculating on when, or if, I’d ever lose my mythical virginity. I refused to engage with them until the conversation shifted and Mo mentioned my mother’s letter. “When you gonna read what your momma wrote?”
I’d told my friends about my meeting with Collin Russell because…well, just because they’re my friends and, despite all their shortcomings, I have no one else to talk to about personal matters, except for my brother.
“I’m not sure. I think I need more time.”
“That letter might tell you who your daddy was,” Natalie said, putting down her mirror. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious ’bout the bloke?”
“Maybe your dad is somebody famous, like the governor,” Mo suggested.
“I doubt that. I’ve spent a lifetime not knowing him, so I’m in no rush.”
Nana stopped making goo-goo eyes at her driver in his rearview mirror long enough to turn to me. “Were you an ugly child?”
“What? I don’t think…”
“Maybe that’s why your mother gave you up.” She turned to my friends. “I had a cousin that looked like a piglet when she was a baby. Her mama couldn’t stand the sight of her.”
“Kate don’t look like no pig,” Mo said, chuckling. “But there
might be some resemblance to a dog.”
Bernie’s eyes came open and he lifted his head in her direction.
“A dog?” I was offended and hurt by what she’d said.
“I’m talking ‘bout an Irish Setter. Those red streaks in your hair…” Mo’s big shoulders slumped. She apparently realized she’d fallen off the far end of the tact scale. “Sorry, I didn’t mean nuthin’ bad.”
I’d recently had Robin, who’s a hairdresser, once again add some auburn highlights to my hair, since his last attempt had left me looking like I’d been dipped in tomato sauce. The results had been better, but after Mo’s comments I now wondered if I looked like I should be wearing a collar.
Natalie made an attempt to bolster my spirits. “I think Kate looks like one of them tall runway models.” She looked at me. “Maybe you should strap on some wings and prance around in your undies.”
“I’m sure that outfit would go over well at work.”
What I’d said made me think about the phone call I’d received earlier in the day. Lieutenant Oz had said that I was cleared in the shooting and scheduled to return to work. I had mixed feelings about that. I missed my friends at work, but I also knew the job could be emotionally draining. There was also the prospect of working with Alex Hardy, my temporary new partner. Hardy was a big ball of mush with a bad attitude. We were like gasoline and fire when we were together.
Our ride mercifully ended a few minutes later at stage four of Ape Shit Studios. Bernie and I were warmly greeted by the cast and crew, most of whom we knew from my prior performance. I watched as my friends, Nana, and Carly Hogg, the star of the show, rehearsed. The episode had to do with Nana, whose character’s name was Winnie Farnsworth, moving in next door to where my friends and Carly lived. Winnie wasn’t too far removed from Nana’s real life persona. The episode ended with her new beau, a lecherous octogenarian named Fred, who also had designs on Natalie’s character, moving in with her over the objections of everyone.
As my friends wrapped up their rehearsal, Betty Ward, one of the owners of the studio arrived. I’d met her during the filming of my own episode of the show. Betty was in her late twenties, with short blonde hair. She was a bit on the manic side and full of nervous energy.
She saw me and Bernie on the sidelines and came over. “Let me know when you’re ready to do an encore of your last performance. I’m still getting tweets about it.”
Her comment made me wonder how much razzing I’d take from my coworkers about the show when I returned to work. “I’ll probably be ready in a couple of lifetimes. I’ll let you know.”
She smiled, glancing at the rehearsal for a moment. “Actually, Brian and I are in discussions with your department about doing a show called Hollywood Detective. It’s going to follow real life homicide cases and the investigators.” She paused, smiling. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in being on the show.”
Brian was Brian Apschlitz, the co-owner of the studio. “Thanks, but no-thanks.” I tried to be diplomatic, adding, “The job is difficult enough without a camera following you around.”
She nodded. “I understand. I’ve read about some of your cases. You’ve got a pretty amazing track record.”
“Thanks, but I work with a lot of good people…” I cut my eyes to Bernie. “Not to mention a pretty amazing dog.”
“Your story, and Bernie being the first canine to work in a homicide unit, would generate a lot of interest.” She stood up. “Think it over. I don’t need an answer tonight.”
I was irritated, since I’d already told her I wasn’t interest in being on the show, but she was gone before I could respond.
Ten minutes later, Natalie and Mo finished up their rehearsal and joined me. We all watched for a moment as Nana was talking to Fred, her new boyfriend on the show.
Mo shook her head that was sans the wig that she was carrying like a linebacker with a football. “I feel sorry for Fred. I gotta feeling Lady Love is gonna dig her claws into him before long.”
Natalie agreed. “The bloke will probably be dead in a week with the black widow on the prowl.”
A few minutes later, we were headed to the limo with Nana when Carly Hogg stopped us. The star of Hollywood Girlz was a big woman with an even bigger attitude.
“I heard you’re going to be part of the team,” Carly said, slapping me on the back.
My brows inched together as I regarded her. “What are you talking about?”
She laughed. “I guess the star is always the last to know. I just got word you’re going to be the star of a new show called Hollywood Detective.”
FIVE
The next morning Bernie and I got to the station early so I could sort through the stack of paperwork that I knew would be in my in-basket. I hadn’t slept well, anticipating my return to work, and also because of Carly Hogg’s comments about me being on a TV show about detectives. I’d had some bad experiences with the media in the past, and, if I had any say about it, I planned to make it clear that I didn’t want to be involved.
I’d made some progress on the paperwork mountain on my desk by the time the other employees began trickling in. I said hello to Selfie and Molly, the civilian employees assigned to Section One. Selfie, real name Sophia, was our twenty-something crime analyst. She made a habit of displaying the latest trends in metallic piercings and hairstyles. Molly was in her thirties, with red hair and green eyes; a single mom raising two young children. Both women were wizards at pulling together records and other information needed on our cases.
Lieutenant Oz arrived a little after eight, said hello to me, and then said he wanted to meet with everyone in his office. I was gathering up my briefcase for the meeting when my phone rang. I recognized that the number was from an FBI agent I’d worked with in the past.
“I hear it’s your first day back at work, Buttercup,” Joe Dawson said in his deep baritone.
Dawson was a gruff, smart-mouthed bulldog of an agent with a take-no-prisoners attitude when it came to his job. He’d come up with the nickname when we’d first met, something that I tolerated. Despite his rough exterior and misogynistic tendencies, we’d managed to become friends and bond over some difficult cases.
My anxiety level was spiking as I said, “Why do I get the feeling you’re not calling to ask me about celebrity sightings in Hollywood.”
“I wouldn’t know a celeb if it staggered out of a nightclub and bit me on my big ass.”
I chuckled. “Stranger things have been known to happen around here. What gives?”
His voice came down a notch. “You’ve probably heard the latest about The Swarm. Janice Taylor is in custody and is in the process of being transferred to a federal prison in Colorado.”
Dawson was referring to a case that had been one of the most difficult I’d worked since coming to Robbery Homicide. It had started with a mad woman named Myra, a surrogate killer, who was acting on behalf of someone she called Azazel. They were both eventually stopped, but not before their killing spree took the lives of dozens of victims. Before Azazel was killed by the SWAT team, he told me that he was one of seven disciples determined to seek vengeance in the world for the perceived injustices they’d suffered.
A few months back, another member of the original seven, a one-time FBI agent named Janice Taylor, had come after me. Before she’d escaped, Taylor had told me there were other members of her group, radicalized killers, who she referred to as The Swarm, waiting for a signal to resume the killing spree.
“The only better place I could think of for Taylor would be hell,” I said to Dawson.
“I’ve heard the supermax prison is about as close as you can get.” He paused and cleared his throat. “She wants to talk to you.”
I took a breath and released it slowly, his words settling into a dark place in my psyche. “What about?”
“Not sure. She hasn’t said a word to anybody since being arrested in Florida, but a couple of weeks ago she told her attorney she wants to see you.”
&
nbsp; Janice Taylor had held me, and a young girl who I’d met while doing some charity work, hostage. She’d come close to killing us both. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Greer and your brass cleared it, but I understand if you don’t want to be involved.”
Peter Greer was Joe Dawson’s boss. He’d been the head of the taskforce assigned to deal with Taylor and the others in the past.
Dawson’s voice came down even further as he added, “If you’d like, I can go at her alone. Try to get her to talk to me.”
I was grateful for what he was proposing and for trying to keep me out of the case, but knew it would never work. Janice Taylor had taken a personal interest in me. If she did have a message about The Swarm, I was probably the one that she intended to hear it. And I knew that lives might also eventually hang in the balance.”
“When…when are you planning to see her?”
“A few days, not sure exactly.”
“Give me a call when you’re ready. I’ll be there.”
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re the best, Buttercup?”
“It’s been a while. Stay in touch, Joe.”
As I walked to Lieutenant Oz’s office, I did my best to put the phone call out of my mind. Along the way, Bernie and I stopped and I said hello to several coworkers. My assignment in Section One felt like home to me. The unit was a prototype created to handle some of the department’s high profile cases. It was the brainchild of Bradley East, the chief of police, who used the unit to garner favor with the press when we broke big cases.
Oz’s large office had been outfitted with so much high tech gear and equipment that Selfie had nicknamed it the bat cave. In addition to TV monitors and computers, the cave had a large flat screen TV embedded in the glass tabletop that displayed graphics with virtual mock-ups of the crime scenes we worked. A row of smaller flat screen monitors encircled the walls of the office, along with equipment that was linked with local, state, and federal databases.
