Hollywood Murder

by M. Z. Kelly

  “What’s going on?” Leo asked, as we went over to them.

  Georgette looked at the boy beside her. “This is Bobby. Our housekeeper was coming back from running some errands and happened to see him in the street. I’m not sure how he got here.”

  I gave Bernie the settle command, then bent down to the boy. “Bobby, can you tell us where your mother and sister are?”

  He broke down crying, hugged his grandmother’s leg, and refused to say anything. I stood up, at the same time noticing for the first time that that he had a backpack on.

  “Did someone give this to you?” I asked, tugging on his backpack.

  Through his tears, he managed to say. “The bad man.”

  All my internal red lights were suddenly flashing. The boy had been turned loose on the street. He was wearing a backpack. It was given to him by the kidnappers.

  I glanced at Leo. “I need to take a look inside.”

  “Be careful.” He turned to Georgette. “You need to stand back, ma’am. It would be best if you waited in the house.”

  “What’s happening?” She broke drown crying and Leo ushered her away.

  Bernie was at my side, so I released his tether and gave him the go command. He trotted off. I bent down to the boy again. “I need you to stand very still and be brave for me. Can you do that, Bobby?”

  He sniffed and nodded his head. “Okay.”

  I reached over and unzipped the backpack. I saw that it was full of wires and cylindrical tubes. I pulled my hands back and called over to Leo, taking care not to upset the boy or his grandmother. “Let’s get Emergency Services over here now.”

  Leo already had his phone out and began making the call. I took the boy by his hand, at the same time knowing I was holding onto a walking, talking time bomb.

  ***

  Three hours later, LAPD’s bomb squad managed to remove the boy’s backpack and explode the bomb in one of those trailers that carries a detonation chamber. The explosion rocked the trailer for several seconds, telling us there was enough ordnance to kill the boy and everyone around him.

  The afternoon’s events had been covered by all the local media outlets, with their helicopters capturing everything. Henry Montreal had arrived while the bomb squad was at work, demanding to know what we were doing to catch the kidnappers. It took what little self-control I had left to keep my mouth shut and let Leo and the lieutenant deal with him.

  The feds had also arrived on scene. They spent their time standing around and posturing. The agent in charge, Michael Dukes, burst my bubble by telling us that he wanted to meet first thing in the morning so they could take control. With the feds taking over, I knew our role would get pushed to the sidelines.

  “It looks like we dodged another bullet,” Leo said to Oz and me as we were packing up for the day.

  “I’m not sure where we go from here,” I said. “These people seem to be increasingly desperate and unpredictable.”

  “Maybe the feds will have some ideas,” Oz said. “See you both at the station first thing in the morning.”

  I watched the lieutenant walk away, my eyes lingering on him and the reporters in the distance, still marshaled on the street.

  “How are you doing with everything?” Leo asked me, bringing my attention back to him.

  I looked at him. “The truth?” He nodded. “We’ve got Allison Marsh and her daughter out there somewhere still being held hostage and we’re losing control of our case. There’s also a nine-year-old girl who lost her parents and has been victimized a second time by the press.” I sighed. “I could go on.”

  Leo’s ever-present smile didn’t waver. “Why not? I’m a good listener.”

  “You asked for it.” I took a breath and continued. “Then there’s the murder of Jean Winslow and the man who raised me, who the department wants to turn their backs on.” I felt my emotions surfacing and heaved out a breath. “I also have a friend who may be dying of breast cancer.” I snapped Bernie’s leash on his collar. “Oh, and I almost forgot. I have to move or I’ll end up living on the streets.”

  Leo came over to me, wrapped a big hand around my shoulder and said, “Let’s go get a beer and forget our sorrows for a couple of hours. Tomorrow’s another day.”

  FIFTY

  As it turned out, I had to take a rain-check on the beer with Leo. Noah and I had already made arrangements to have dinner with Robin and his new boyfriend, Adam. I’d also made plans to spend the night at Noah’s place, even though tomorrow’s scheduled day off had been canceled because of work.

  I stopped by my apartment to shower and change before running into the snoop sisters on the way to my car. Bernie and I were practically pulled into their apartment, despite my protests.

  “What’s going on?” I said, putting my bag on the floor. I took a seat on the sofa while Natalie did the happy dance with Bernie.

  “We wanted you to know that Nana’s making arrangements for Archibald Griswald to work on our Sistah Slam performance,” Mo said, settling into a chair across from me.

  A wave of depression hit me when I thought about agreeing to the ridiculous fashion show and rap performance. “Who is this Griswell guy?”

  “Griswald,” Mo corrected.

  Natalie was still doing the waltz with Bernie, but broke into a hip-hop line saying, “Sistah’s gotta rock, Sistah’s gotta roll, Sistah’s go boom-boom, on the crooked a-holes.”

  “Very inspiring,” I said.

  She let go of Bernie, who whined and did a tail wag, maybe his way of saying he enjoyed the performance. “Wait ’til l Archibald fine tunes it. He’s a genius, almost as famous as Tupac, Jay-Z, and Kanye.”

  I stood up. “I think we’re going to need a lot more than a genius to overcome the Nana handicap.”

  “You got a point,” Mo said. She looked at Natalie. “Since Nana’s gonna be performing with us, maybe we should change things to a zombie rap performance.”

  “Zombie rap. I like that.” Natalie looked at me. “Whatcha think?”

  “I think we’ve all lost our minds.” I stood up. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Hold on, before you go runnin’ off to do the Ortho bunny hop with that doggy doctor,” Mo said. It took her a couple of tries, but she managed to get out of her chair and follow me. “That Realtor we told you ’bout, Mary Jane Collins, made the arrangements for us all to go check out Jean Winslow’s house this week.”

  “The only thing is,” Natalie said, “we gotta act like we got us twenty million stuffed in our mattresses, on account that’s how much quid they want for the joint.”

  Mo nodded her head that tonight was topped with a white wig. She reminded me of a princess from Brie’s daughter’s favorite movie Frozen. “We also gotta dress the part.” She regarded the black dress I was wearing, her forehead scrunching up. “Maybe you can find somethin’ to wear that’s a little more…”

  “Kardashian,” Natalie said. “See if you can pull somethin’ out of that cave you call a closet that puts the f in fashion. We need to pretend like we’re rich bitches on the hunt for a mega-mansion.”

  I sighed. “I’m afraid I got an f in fashion because of my budget, but I’ll see what I can find.” I looked at them both. “You really think this is worth all the trouble of pretending like we’re high rollers, out house hunting?”

  Mo shook her white-crested head, focusing one eye on me. “Sometimes I wonder how you get by being a cop. You wanna get to the bottom of things, you gotta investigate. Mary Jane said there’s a woman who lives on Winslow’s property. She’s been there for several years. Maybe she’s uncovered somethin’ ’bout what really happened to the actress.”

  Natalie’s eyes grew wider and her voice pitched higher. “Maybe Winslow wrote a letter, just like your mum, telling everything that went on thirty years ago with that Malone bloke.”

  I scoffed. “I think that’s highly unlikely, but I’ll try to make it, depending on how things go at work.”

  “We saw what happened with that k
id having a bomb in his backpack,” Mo said, following me to the door. “I gotta feeling somethin’ big is gonna happen soon.”

  “You could be right about that. See you both tomorrow night.”

  ***

  About twenty minutes later, Bernie and I met Noah at Kitchen 24 on Cahuenga Boulevard in North Hollywood. Robin and his friend, Adam, joined us a few minutes later. After introductions, we were shown to a table in the upscale diner where we ordered drinks and looked at menus while Bernie settled at my feet. The place had a chic vibe with lots of eye candy for both sexes at the opulent bar.

  Adam, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, had short, dark hair that was shaved on the sides. He was handsome, with muscular arms that made me think he spent a lot of time in the gym. I could tell by the way he exchanged looks with Robin that he and my brother were taken with one another.

  After some small talk about Noah’s work as a vet, Adam asked me about my job. “Your work must be exciting. I saw you on TV earlier in the week working on that kidnapping case.”

  “Sis is also going to be the star of her own TV show,” Robin said. “It’s called Hollywood Detective.”

  “Make that reluctant star.” I looked at Adam. “I only agreed to do the show because we’re trying to help out a girl whose family was murdered.”

  Adam’s dark brows lifted. “Your job also sounds dangerous.”

  I smiled. “It has its moments.” I focused in on the topic that was the reason I’d wanted to get together. “I understand that you’re a script writer for the studios.”

  “Bergman and Sons. We’re in pre-production on six episodes of what’s, so far, an unnamed crime show. Me and my writing partner are calling it Looney Leslie. It’s about a bumbling cop that ends up in a lot of hot water while she works her cases.”

  I looked at Robin and chuckled. “I hope you’re not giving Adam inside information on my life.”

  My brother held out his hands in an innocent gesture, giving me the disclaimer, “Any similarity to actual events or persons is purely coincidental.”

  I laughed again. “That better be true.” I looked back at Adam. “Robin mentioned that recently somebody at your studio asked you to insert some lines of dialog into a script.” As I’d spoken, Adam glanced at Robin, then back at me. “The reason I mentioned it, is that I’ve been looking into some rumors that a group has been involved in doing similar things at other studios for years.”

  “The Revelation?”

  My brows went up before Robin said, “I told him all about our family situation and your suspicions.” He softened his tone. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

  I nodded and looked back at Adam. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about this to anyone. I’m trying to keep it on the down low.”

  Adam assured me that he would keep our conversation confidential before Noah said, “Do you have any idea why they wanted you to change the dialog?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. One of the senior writers told me about it and gave me the specific lines they wanted changed. He said something about the script modifications coming from on high, whatever that means.”

  “Can you remember the specific changes they wanted?”

  “Of course. As a writer, dialog is critical and…” He exhaled. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t happy about it, but I need the work so I didn’t make a big deal about it.” He sipped his drink and went on, “The line they wanted inserted had to do with a street where the lead character was supposed to meet someone. The line went, ‘Let’s meet on Hightower, across from the Platinum Theater at ten on the twenty-fourth.’”

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Seems kind of strange. Do you think it could be some kind of secret code or signal to someone?”

  I looked at Noah, raising my brows. He said, “It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

  I met Adam’s eyes again. “I have no idea what it means either. Have you heard anything about the Revelation while working for the studio?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing.”

  The server arrived with our food as I said, “For now, let’s treat this conversation as if it never happened.”

  ***

  Noah’s veterinary practice shared space with his private residence on a hillside near Elysian Park in Los Angeles. The home was a large craftsman, built around the middle of the last century, and took up almost a city block. Shaq, quite possibly the largest, hairiest dog in existence, was on guard duty, greeting us as we made our way up to the front porch with Bernie.

  “It’s okay, buddy,” Noah said, nuzzling the giant dog. He glanced at me and Bernie and said to Shaq, “They might look like a couple of burglars, but they’re harmless.”

  Bernie and Shaq did that trot and sniff thing dogs do; the canine version of a handshake. We went inside, where a couple of labs came wandering over while a cat scampered off into a corner.

  “This must be Shaq’s version of doggy heaven,” I said, taking off my coat.

  “This is about as close as you can get,” Noah agreed. He took our coats over to a closet, then said, “Let’s take a seat on the back porch. I’ve got a wine fridge out there.”

  We wandered through the expansive house that was comfortable, but at the same time functional, with offices and a waiting area for the patients and owners. The walls were covered with posters, charts, and graphs about a variety of the non-human patients Noah worked on. Along the way, I took a couple of minutes and settled Bernie in for the night with the other dogs.

  When we got to the back porch, I felt like I’d gone back in time to another era and locale. Something about the room and furnishings reminded me of the porches you found in homes in the south. There were ferns and flowers lining the open-air deck that overlooked the expansive back yard.

  “This is lovely,” I said, finding a seat on a wicker sofa with overstuffed cushions, at the same time taking in the magnificent view of the city below.

  “It’s my favorite place to relax and forget about my troubles.” Noah moved to the wine fridge. “Red or white?”

  “I’ll let you choose.”

  He brought over a bottle of rosé and said, “Why don’t we compromise. I read somewhere that rosé is the it wine with all the celebs. They call it the new Gatorade.

  “Very romantic.”

  “Would you prefer…”

  I laughed. “I was just kidding. It sounds perfect.”

  After pouring the wine, we clinked glasses and Noah said, “To the perfect day and an even better evening.”

  Noah set his glass down, reached over and took hold of his grandmother’s locket that I was wearing. He smiled. “It never looked better.”

  “Thanks. It’s very special to me.”

  As we drank, we shared a little small talk about our night, Noah offering me his take on what Robin’s boyfriend had said about having to change his script. “It sounds both mysterious and strange, like it really could be some sort of covert signal to someone.”

  “The Platinum Theater is one of those early Hollywood movie venues. I googled it and found out it’s located on Hightower Street, about a block off Highland. I’m not sure when the episode Adam was working on is going to air, but the line about meeting at ten on the twenty-fourth could be a message to someone to meet there at that time and date next month.”

  “It seems like there’s a lot easier ways to let people know about a meeting.”

  I sipped my wine, then said, “I agree. There must be something more to it.”

  Noah heard one of the dogs barking and went back to check on him. When he came back he said, “I think they’re just excited about the sleepover with Bernie.”

  I set my wine glass down. “He’s pretty popular, especially with the girls.” We chatted about his house and work for a couple of minutes before I realized that I hadn’t told him about having to move. I took a moment to fill him in, adding, “I don’t suppose you know anyone who has an apartment to rent.”


  “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you move in here? There’s plenty of room for Bernie and, as you’ve seen, he already fits in.”

  “I couldn’t impose on you, and there are other complications.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “My friends also have to move. I’m not sure how Natalie and Mo would cope, not having me around.” I took a moment, hoping he would understand what else I had to say. “And, it’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer to move in, but I think we need to give it a little more time before...” I saw his disappointment and tried to search for the right words. “It’s just that everything between us is going so well, I don’t want to complicate things right now.”

  “I understand.”

  I continued, telling him that Natalie and Mo thought we could find a house to rent, but that rents in Hollywood were exorbitant.

  Noah stood up and began pacing around the porch, thinking about my situation. After a moment, he came back over to me. “I think it just might work.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This might sound a little strange, but I know a lady who brings her Pomeranian here. She’s a little eccentric, but she’s also very rich. She was telling me about a mobile home she has that she needs to rent out.”

  “A mobile home. Do I look like a senior citizen?”

  He laughed. “According to what she told me, there’s no age restriction on the property she owns. It’s located in that vintage park over by Paramount Studios. I think it’s called the Starwood or Stardust, something like that.”

  “I don’t know. I’m having trouble seeing me, Natalie, and Mo living in a mobile home.”

  Noah set his wine on the coffee table and exhaled. “That’s too bad. I have a feeling the rent would be really reasonable.”

  He suddenly had my attention. “I guess there’s nothing to lose by taking a look at it.”

  He came over and sat down next to me again. “Great. I’ll talk to her tomorrow and let you know what she says.”