Hollywood Lust

by M. Z. Kelly

  ***

  Our taskforce meeting was held the next morning at the FBI headquarters in downtown Boston, in a high-rise building located between the Boston Common and Paul Revere’s house. The area was full of history and I understood the attraction Lindsay had to the city.

  John Greer chaired the meeting, which was attended by most of the agents and experts that had been in Denver, including Jeremy Spender, who was the head of a think-tank group in the city. I took a seat next to Dawson; Before the meeting began he asked me about my night.

  “I just stayed in and tried to get some sleep but wasn’t entirely successful. And you?”

  “Met an old friend who lives here for dinner. It was a nice evening, but…” He rubbed his brow. “I think I stayed too long at the party.”

  Agent Greer was calling the meeting to order as I said, “I’m glad you were able to unwind.”

  The meeting began with Greer giving us a recap of yesterday’s events. “There were a total of twenty-three casualties at the Denver Courthouse yesterday, including three civilians and two of our own.” He took a moment, paying tribute to Rob Nelson and the fallen guard, before mentioning Janice Taylor. “The cause of death was a cyanide capsule, no doubt smuggled to her from the inside, along with the improvised weapon. The security system was also overridden, resulting in the door to the interview room being electronically locked. As we all know, Taylor’s attorney, Gwen Macy, also succumbed to her injuries.”

  “Do we have any information as to how The Swarm was notified to begin the assault on the courthouse?” Jeremy Spender asked.

  “It was probably something pre-arranged, just like with the thwarted attacks that were set in place through the website we eventually took down. It could be that Taylor’s attorney’s announcement about her client confessing to her crimes was the signal to begin the assault as soon as she was brought to the courthouse.”

  “Have we gotten anything out of those who were planning to set off the bombs in the cities? Dawson asked.

  “Nothing worthwhile. They appear to be radicalized individuals who were in communication through social media sites to attempt the attacks.”

  “Just as I previously predicted,” Jeremy Spender said. “This is domestic terrorism in its purest form and it won’t be stopped.”

  “Why are you here?” Dawson demanded.

  Spender’s usually pasty face flushed. “What do you mean?”

  “If it can’t be stopped, why are you here? Why don’t you go back to playing spin the bottle with the neighborhood Boy Scouts?”

  Spender looked at Greer. “I simply won’t put up with any more of his insults.”

  “Fine,” Dawson said. “Pull up your tighty-whities and go home.”

  “Enough,” Greer said. He glowered as Dawson. “Let’s stay on task.”

  I was annoyed with the banter and asked Greer, “What do we know about Ice or Brody?”

  He referenced some paperwork and said, “Brody Carl Archer is a pseudonym. Archer was a false persona, apparently one that was purposely created to become involved in a relationship with your sister. It looks like she was specifically targeted for weeks as a means to get back at you.”

  I did my best not to give into the depression that threatened to overwhelm me. “What about prints or other evidence taken from the apartment? Do we have any leads on who he really is?”

  “The prints were run through AFIS, and all the other databases, but there were no matches in the system. I’m afraid Brody Archer, or Ice, is a ghost.”

  My shoulders slumped as I now gave into the depression. A ghost. It seemed an apt description for the monster that had my sister. We had no leads, nothing to go on. I couldn’t begin to imagine the horror my sister was going through. I silently cursed myself, thinking I should have seen everything coming. Why hadn’t I been more forceful and proactive? Why had I let Lindsay go back to that monster?

  Greer must have seen my despondency. “We will, of course, follow-up with those already in custody from the original attacks and question them about Archer. Maybe we’ll get something.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Dawson asked. He glanced at Spender. “As much as I hate to admit it, I think Jerry’s right, these attacks aren’t over.”

  Spender fumed. “It’s Jeremy.”

  “Whatever, Jer.” Dawson looked at Greer, raising his brows.

  “We continue to work the case, wait for…” The head of our taskforce cleared his throat, searching for something positive to say. “You’re right. These people aren’t just going to go away. As soon as there’s any further indication of activity we’re prepared to respond immediately.”

  It was all fed speak for wait for the worst to happen and then we’ll clean up the mess. It angered the hell out of me. “We’ve got to do more. If we’re not proactive on this, my sister will end up dead.”

  “We’re doing everything…”

  Agent Greer’s words were interrupted by Jeremy Spender. “There’s another possibility.”

  “What’s that, Jerry?” Dawson said.

  He ignored Dawson and turned to me. “Your sister might have been taken as part of a larger plan. I think there’s a reason she hasn’t been killed.”

  My eyes narrowed on him. “What do you mean?”

  “It could be that they want to turn your sister. They want her to become one of them. As we speak, it could be that Lindsay is being radicalized and weaponized. And, if that’s the case, she’ll eventually be coming for us just like the others.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Joe Dawson and I rode to the airport together after the meeting. I’d done my best to discount what Jeremy Spender had said, but the more I thought about it, I knew what he’d speculated was a possibility. Ice had already alienated my sister from me. That might have been the beginning stages of an even more ambitious plan; to turn her into one of The Swarm. It could even be that she would eventually be recruited to become one of their leaders. If that was the case, and she was radicalized, there was no telling what she might be capable of. While I loved my sister and didn’t want to believe it, I’d seen others who had been programed and co-opted to carry out horrific events. It made the urgency of finding her all the greater.

  “There must be a lot going on up there,” Dawson said.

  I turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

  “In your mind. You haven’t said anything for the past ten minutes.”

  We were stuck in heavy traffic. I glanced out the window and sighed. “I’m just worried…” I looked over at him. “Do you think Spender could be right about my sister?”

  “Jerry’s a blowhard, a pompous little dick. Let it go.”

  “But it is possible.”

  “Anything’s possible, Buttercup. I might sprout a pair of wings, click my magic shoes together, and take us to the airport.”

  Despite my depression, a wave of laughter hit me. “Now that I would like to see.”

  “You hang around me long enough, there’s no telling what will happen.”

  I smiled and glanced down at Lindsay’s necklace. I was twisting it in my hands like a talisman. My eyes grew heavy. “So, where do you think we go from here?”

  “I’m not sure.” He turned his head, regarding me. “All I know for sure is one thing. Emotions won’t win this battle. We keep the faith and work this case like any other. Blue-eyed soul, Kate.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, losing focus. “I’m not so sure about my soul anymore.”

  “’Course you are. It’s everything good about you, just like the guy who raised you said in so many words.”

  I tried to smile. “I appreciate you saying that.”

  He was quiet for a moment before going on. “I knew an old boxer once. He worked out of a beat-up gym where I learned to fight as a kid. He told me the secret to boxing has nothing to do with throwing a good punch, footwork, or even being in the best condition possible. It has to do with protecting your center, your core.”

  My eyes foun
d him again. “It’s the same for the soul.”

  “You got it.” His big features softened and he smiled. “Think of it as rope-a-dope. You put your hands up, cover up, and protect the only thing God really gave you—the center of who you are.”

  My lips finally managed to turn up. “I didn’t realize you were a philosopher, Joe.”

  His smile was still there. “Like I said, stick around long enough and who knows?”

  I reached over and touched his arm. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”

  ***

  I got home from Boston late that night and picked up Bernie. I then went home, tried to put everything out of my mind, and went straight to bed.

  The next morning I made plans to return to work, telling Oz that I’d be in at noon. On my way into the station, I met Brie for coffee at a place called Dirty Ray’s. The coffee shop had cinnamon rolls to die for and an outdoor seating area that overlooked the city. While we waited for my friend, I gave in to Bernie’s food stare-down and broke off a piece of my roll.

  I looked up, realizing Brie had arrived and she’d seen what I’d done. She took a seat across from me and said, “I see somebody’s got your number.”

  “We’re partners, but I have no doubt who’s the alpha-dog.” I smiled, noticing she had an Hawaiian-print scarf covering her head. “How have you been?”

  “I’m okay…day at a time.” She sipped her coffee. “All I know for sure is that I’ve had things far easier than you have over the past couple of days.”

  I took a moment, acknowledging what happened at the courthouse and with Lindsay. “I’m doing my best to focus and not give into the horror of everything…” I blinked back a tear. “I know I’ve got to be strong for my sister.”

  After she tried a little pep talk, Brie asked, “Do you have any leads on where Lindsay might be?”

  I shook my head. “It’s hurry up and wait.”

  We went on for a few minutes, with Brie again trying to bolster my spirits, before she got to the reason she wanted to get together. “I went over the autopsy and medical reports on…” She looked around and lowered her voice. “…on that case you wanted me to look at. The tox screens were consistent with a barbiturate overdose. Our victim also had an alcohol level of .11, so it was definitely a lethal combination.”

  “But the drugs could have, either been forced on her, or maybe put in a drink?”

  “It’s possible, and there’s something else.” She glanced at the other customers again before going on. “It’s, of course, impossible to be definitive, but the fracture in question could have been the result of domestic violence just as you speculated.”

  “But you can’t be sure?”

  “Not about the fracture itself, however, her body had several other signs, which today would have been considered consistent with domestic violence. Her tympanic membrane, or eardrum, was ruptured, indicating a probable blow to the head. There was also some bruising and scrapes on parts of her body that would have been concealed by clothing, something that’s common in DV cases.” Brie reached into the file and showed me a couple of photographs of Winslow’s body. “There are some other injuries that weren’t even discussed in the reports. They look like burns to me.”

  I saw that she was referring to several small circular areas on the victim’s breasts. “Burns, as in?”

  “Cigarettes. It would have been a common method of abuse back then, given that a greater percentage of the population smoked.”

  I gave her back the photographs. “So what you’re saying is that our victim had a lot of injuries, consistent with ongoing traumatic physical abuse.”

  “If I were the physician completing the reports that would be one of my conclusion.”

  After we finished discussing the autopsy results I mentioned our meeting with Lana Palmer. “She said that, along with Donald Regis, there was another man who became involved with Winslow. His name is Kellen Malone. He was a producer back then and, according to what Natalie and Mo found out, he still lives in the area. Mo said the talk on the streets is that he’s still into some bad stuff, whatever that means.”

  “It sounds like you have two suspects.” She sipped her coffee and then added, “The problem is the case is so old that tying either Regis or Malone to Winslow’s death is going to be extremely problematic.”

  I smiled. “Nothing’s ever easy.”

  After finishing our coffee, Brie walked with Bernie and me to my car. She asked, “How are things with you and Noah?”

  I told her about him fixing me dinner and that we were growing closer. “He wants to go away, and…” I smiled. “I think I’m ready. He’s probably the most grounded person I’ve met in a long time, not to mention handsome, and…” The smile grew wider. “You know.”

  “He sounds like he’s everything you’ve been waiting for.”

  “I hope so.”

  ***

  After arriving at the station I met with Oz and Leo in the lieutenant’s office. I filled them in on my federal case and told them about Lindsay. They both expressed their concern. Oz gave me permission to work the case whenever the feds needed me. We were then joined by Selfie and Molly and I got an update on the Reeder and Hodge cases.

  “Yesterday, I went back and had a long chat with Wanda Marshall,” Leo said in his smooth baritone. “Based on what she said, I’m convinced that Elton’s condition is consistent with paraphilia. She said he had an intense attraction to anyone with a deformity or other medical problem, even as a child.”

  “Dr. Kingsley,” I said to Oz, raising my brows. “Who knew?”

  Oz regarded Leo. “He’s a man of many mysteries.”

  Leo smiled, but otherwise ignored the banter and went on. “I then went back to Jason Quail and asked him about Reeder, whether he ever had any medical problems. As it turns out, Reeder had colon cancer a couple of years before he was murdered. He had surgery and chemo. According to Quail, the disease had been in remission.”

  “We know that Carla Hodge suffered from anorexia,” I said, following along. “Do you think it’s possible Elton was somehow involved in the lives of both victims because of their medical problems?”

  Leo nodded at Selfie and Molly.

  Selfie took up the discussion. “That’s been our working theory for the last couple of days. As we speculated before, it could be that Elton worked with his brother on some of the photographic shoots and that’s when he met Bruce Reeder. His mother said Elton’s bisexual, so it’s possible he was the subject Reeder was involved with when he broke up with Quail.”

  “And Galen found out about it, disapproved, and ended the relationship for good,” I said.

  Molly agreed. “It could have also been that Galen was trying to control his younger brother’s lifestyle, he and Reeder exchanged words about it, and Elton’s lover payed the ultimate price.”

  “Does anybody at Bernstein Studios remember Elton working there with his brother?”

  “We went back there yesterday but, so far, we’ve struck out.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Oz said. “This all went down a decade ago and Elton, if he was there, probably wouldn’t have made much of an impression.”

  “Except on Bruce Reeder,” I said. I turned to Leo. “We know that Carla Hodge had anorexia. Is there some possible tie-in to Elton?”

  “It’s just speculation at this point, but we’ve been working on the assumption that Elton might be a nurse or nurse’s aide. It would give him access to people with medical problems.”

  “We’re checking out the doctor’s offices and hospitals where Carla was treated,” Molly said. “The problem is, we’ve got nothing in the system in the way of employment records or an address on Elton Marshall. If he’s been working in the medical field, it could mean that he changed his name, but, so far, we’re drawing blanks.”

  After the meeting ended Leo and I went for coffee in the breakroom. Bernie sniffed around the floor for crumbs as we took seats at a table. One of the detect
ives from another unit stopped by and mentioned my federal case before wandering off.

  When we were alone, in that easy, caring way that Leo has, he said, “We don’t need to talk about what went down over the past couple of days, unless you want to. But I do want to make sure you’re dealing with things okay.”

  I interlaced my fingers around my coffee cup, feeling the warmth. “I’m doing okay. Of course, I’m crazy with worry about my sister, but I work with a good guy on the fed’s side of things. He’s helped me try and keep it in perspective.”

  He smiled, exposing her perfect white teeth. “Good. Dr. Leo’s also here, if I can help in any way.”

  We chatted about his interest in psychology for a few minutes before I mentioned what Brie had told me earlier. I then told him about our meeting with Lana Palmer. “She said there was a producer, Kellen Malone, who was also involved with Winslow at the time. He’s apparently not a very nice fellow.”

  “The guy’s name sounds familiar but I can’t place where I heard it. I’ll ask around about him. Maybe if we have time later today, we can go by and try to talk to Donald Regis.”

  We both turned as Selfie came through the door and said, “Molly and I think we might have something on Elton Marshall.”

  Leo and I followed her to a workstation where our two civilian employees shared space. We took a seat across from them as Molly told us what they’d pieced together.

  “Elton Marshall attended Long Beach State under the name Conrad Elton Yates. I ran record checks using every possible combination of family names. Yates began using his mother’s maiden name in his twenties and he’s now Dr. Conrad Yates.”

  “As in a medical doctor?”

  Selfie smiled as she answered. “He has a doctorate in mortuary science. I guess that would make him Dr. Death.”

  I took a moment, moving the pieces of the puzzle around in my mind. “Let’s go back to the beginning with Bruce Reeder’s death and see if we can piece things together.”

  Selfie began the summary. “Reeder was a documentary film maker at Bernstein Studios. We know he was gay and cheated on his wife with other men, including Jason Quail, before she divorced him. That relationship also ended because Quail said Reeder was cheating on him, possibly with someone from the studio.”