Hollywood Quest

by M. Z. Kelly

  “She’s depressed over her breakup with Larry.” Natalie lowered her voice. “She’s not even wearing a wig.”

  I took another breath and tried to focus. “Let me come over.” I regarded Tex. “I think this is something Natalie and I can best handle alone.”

  “I can assist,” he protested. “I hold certifications from several prestigious institutions in psychotherapeutic interventions, including erotomania.”

  “What’s that?” Natalie asked.

  “A delusional belief that someone is madly in love with you, including the hallucination that secret messages to the beloved can be sent through telepathy and special signals.”

  I looked at Natalie. “I’m in no mood for this.”

  Natalie looked at her boyfriend. “Why don’t you get with Howie tonight and work on the Twerk.” She smiled. “After last night, I think the Twerk might need some tweakin’.”

  Tex’s shoulders slumped and he exhaled. “Okay.” He started to walk away, but turned back to me. “I could try a Rolfing technique on Mo, maybe reintegrate her mental state with her myofascial...”

  “Not another word,” I said.

  Tex sauntered off as Natalie said, “You’re in a bloody bad state yourself. What gives?”

  “Let’s go check on Mo, and I’ll explain.”

  Natalie, Bernie, and I went next door, where we found Mo lying on her sofa, moaning. It was one of the few times I’d seen her without a wig, something that I never understood because my friend had beautiful curly hair.

  “Kate’s here,” Natalie said to Mo. “She’s been havin’ a pity party next door, so I brought her over to join us.”

  “A pity party.” Mo sat up and looked at me. “You got any of those cheese ball things you always eat when you’re depressed?”

  “Fugs,” I said. “Let me run home and get them.”

  I returned a couple minutes later and handed her the bag of junk food. Mo grabbed a handful of Fugs and said to Natalie, “I could use a little something to wash these down.”

  “I’ll whip up a batch of Nomo’s,” Natalie said, heading for the kitchen.

  I had no idea what she was talking about. I said to Mo, “Are you going to be okay?”

  She huffed out a couple breaths, trying to control her emotions. “I think so. It’s just that I happened to see Larry going into a club earlier tonight. He was with some bimbo. It put me in a bad state.”

  “If that’s the case, I think it’s time you cut him off emotionally and try to move on.”

  “I know. It’s just that we were together for more than a year, and...” She brushed a tear. “What the hell’s the matter with me?” She popped a Fug and looked at the bag of junk food. “These things oughta be sold as a depression drug.”

  Natalie came over from the kitchen and handed us each a drink. “You both need to swallow those in one gulp. Doctor’s orders.”

  It was against my better judgment, especially after my earlier glass of wine, but I did as she said. The drink was fruity and delicious, with just a hint of vermouth.

  “What did you say this is?” Mo said, smacking her lips after downing the drink.

  “A Nomo. After a couple of ‘em, you got yourself no mo’ troubles.” She headed back toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you both a chaser.” She turned back to Mo. “By the way, I met a guy the other day named Cleo. He’s a plumber. I think you’d like him.”

  “Why’s that?” Mo asked.

  Natalie winked. “I heard Cleo’s plumbin’ is just right.”

  Mo chuckled, then regarded me after Natalie went back to the kitchen. She probably realized that I looked like a homeless person. “You wanna talk about what’s going on?”

  I sighed. “Leo and I heard from Pearl today.”

  Natalie came over and handed us both another drink. She took a seat across from us. “I wanna hear what your daddy had to say.”

  My shoulders slumped again. “Pearl’s not my daddy.”

  Mo looked at Natalie, back at me. She softened her tone. “Tell us what’s going on.”

  “I think Harlan Ryland could have been my father.”

  “That’s bloody rubbish,” Natalie said. “The bloke was a serial killer, not to mention the world’s biggest scrotbag.”

  I brushed a hand through my messy hair. “I know.”

  “What makes you think he was your daddy?” Mo asked.

  “Leo talked to Pearl’s sister. She got a message from him that she forwarded.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “Leo also sent it to me.” I set my phone on the coffee table and played the message. As I listened to it again, I was even more convinced that Ryland could be my father. There was silence after the message ended that only deepened my depression.

  “Well?” I finally said, looking at my friends.

  “I don’t know ‘bout Ryland,” Mo said, “but it sounds like for sure Pearl ain’t your daddy. I also think he’s trying to put together whatever happened thirty years ago.”

  “And he’s in Brazil,” Natalie said. “Maybe your daddy is one of them Nazis who’s been hidin’ out in South America all these years.”

  I chuckled, despite my depression. “I’m not sure having a Nazi as a father would be any better than Harlan Ryland.”

  My friends both went on for a couple minutes, trying to convince me that Pearl was on the trail of the others involved and there was no proof that Ryland was my father.

  I then replayed a part of the message where Pearl’s words were cut off, him saying, “...everything that happened was a tro...”

  “What do you think he meant?” I asked them.

  Mo shrugged. “Don’t know.” She regarded me with one eye. “You go by your Mom’s place yet, see if you hid those papers your adoptive dad gave you?”

  I exhaled. “I’ve been putting it off. I think I was afraid I’d find out Pearl was my dad. Maybe I’ll go by tomorrow.”

  “I think what Pearl meant is that what happened to both your daddies was a shitload of trouble,” Natalie said. “And there’s more shenanigans to come.”

  I sighed and rose at the same time Bernie came up off the floor. “You’re probably right.” I looked at Mo. “You can keep the Fugs. I’m going to bed.”

  She also stood and came over to me. “You gonna be okay?”

  I saw there were tears in her eyes. “I think we both just need a good cry and we’ll be fine.”

  We hugged one another for a long moment, Natalie also coming over for the lovefest.

  When we parted, Mo said, “I love you both. Thanks for being my friends.”

  EIGHTEEN

  “All the loose ends have been tied up,” the woman Monica Linville knew as Aisha said. “Todd is out of the picture and the Bratton murders have all been connected to her.”

  “And the locals are convinced of that?” Linville asked.

  The security chief was meeting in a park with the leader of Agrasom’s secret cabal known as K-1. Their sole purpose was to erase problems for the company, and those who created them.

  “They have no other suspects,” Aisha said. “It will be a matter of them closing out the case.”

  “And Bratton?”

  “After the family is buried, she goes back to her mundane existence. Her biological daughter is still in play, but if she releases the research, she knows both she and Amy will be eliminated.”

  Linville’s instincts were on high alert. “My concern is that if we don’t pay up, Miller will kill the daughter, and the final bit of leverage that has bought her silence goes away.”

  Aisha swept the dark hair out of her eyes and scanned the grassy area beyond where they were walking. “That is a problem, the one variable that isn’t under our control.”

  Linville’s gaze moved off for a moment before she put things into motion. The inner circle for Agrasom had not been involved in the decision she’d made. That was by design. If there was any blowback and things didn’t go as planned, no one with the corporation could be directly tied to anythi
ng criminal.

  “Aaron Miller—I want him found,” Linville said, meeting Aisha’s dark eyes again. “We’re going to use his blackmail demands to accomplish that. Tell him we’ll pay the twenty million.”

  “He wants the money wired directly to an account. There will be no personal contact with him.”

  Linville took a step closer to her employee. “You are the head of K-1. You’re telling me that you can’t find the one individual who poses a direct threat to your job and the company you work for?”

  Aisha blinked. “I’ll find him. It will be my personal priority.”

  A mirthless smile slipped over Linville’s lips. “When you locate him, call me immediately. This is personal now.”

  Linville watched as Aisha disappeared down the walkway. She wasn’t even sure if that was her real name. The woman who was now the head of K-1 had been a Mossad agent at one time. Linville had met her while working security operations for her company several years ago. They’d become acquainted, and when Aisha left government work she had contacted her, seeking employment. The agent had been her enforcer, a loyal employee who would do anything she ordered. Now, she was the firewall, her only means of finding Aaron Miller and assuring Laura Bratton’s continued silence.

  NINETEEN

  I didn’t know exactly what was in Natalie’s Nomo cocktail. All I did know was that it knocked me out. I slept until after seven the next morning and was late for work. When I got to Hollywood Station, everyone was already assembling in Lieutenant Grundy’s office.

  “Glad you could make it,” Darby said as I took a seat next to Charlie and across from Leo. “You must still be on Cold Case hours.”

  “Funny,” I said. “What concern is it of yours?”

  “Just making an observation.” Darby had a smirk on his face as he looked at Charlie. “One of you can’t get up, and I heard the other can’t get it up.”

  My partner’s fleshy face reddened. “One more word out of you, Tiny, and I’m gonna let the air out of your fat gut.”

  “Tiny?”

  “Word has it that was your high school nickname because of both your weight and your anatomy.”

  “Enough,” Grundy said, coming through the door with Captain Dembowski. After taking a seat, the lieutenant said, “Let’s leave the personal stuff out of the conversation.” He looked at Leo and me. “The captain wants a summary of what we know after yesterday’s events.”

  I let Leo take over, recapping what we found in Carmen Todd’s house before finding the attorney’s body in her garage office. “The Diprivan lots came back to a pharmacy in Riverside that was robbed a couple of months ago. It’s possible that Todd bought them from whoever was involved.”

  “And the electronic devices?” Grundy asked.

  “The brands were a match for those found in the Bratton residence. Todd had a program on her computer that allowed her to access the cameras. At the same time, her IP address was routed and shielded through a series of servers, some out of country. It looks like she was spying on the family for a couple of years.”

  “It doesn’t add up for me,” I said. “Why would she have an interest in watching her husband’s other family?”

  “Jealousy,” Darby said. “It could be that she was using the video to try and get her husband to give up his other life.”

  “Kate’s right,” Charlie said, ignoring Darby. “She might have known about Lee’s other marriage and his family, but the spying just doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Darby went on for a couple minutes, spinning scenarios that included everything from voyeurism to blackmail.

  When he finished, Grundy looked at Dembowski. “The motive doesn’t really matter. The fact is Carmen Todd married Lee Bratton, she had the camera equipment and software used to spy on him and his family in her possession, along with the drugs used to kill him and his kids.”

  “Do we have the autopsy results on Todd?” Dembowski asked.

  Selfie answered. “Dr. Mumford has it scheduled for three this afternoon.”

  “Somebody needs to be there,” Grundy said.

  Leo must have seen my distress and volunteered to attend.

  “If the autopsy shows it was suicide, it looks like we’re done,” Dembowski said.

  “What about the cold case?” I said. “Linda Bratton was murdered three years ago, and we have no suspects or motive for that crime. There’s also the issue of the tattoo found on Amy, and the same message written on the death masks.”

  The captain rubbed his fleshy jaw. “Is there anything that could tie Todd to the first crime?”

  “Nothing. And, as far as we know, she and Lee Bratton weren’t even hooking up when it happened.”

  “As far as we know,” Darby said, mocking me. “That doesn’t make it a fact or Todd innocent. It could be that she had some interest in Bratton for years and killed the kid to manipulate him.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Charlie said. He looked at the captain. “We’ve got a shitload of loose ends in this case, not to mention a motive that doesn’t hold water.”

  “Nonsense is beating a dead horse,” Darby countered. He looked at me. “Something your partner is an expert on.”

  I ignored him as Grundy said, “Let’s see what the autopsy on Todd shows and then make some final decisions tomorrow.”

  “What about the surviving daughter?” Charlie said.

  “What about her?”

  “We were planning to have someone with psych services meet with her. I’d like to go ahead with that, maybe get it done today if you authorize it.”

  The lieutenant looked at the captain, who shrugged.

  “Go ahead,” Grundy said. “But today’s probably your only shot at this. You and Sexton are back in Cold Case if we end up closing things out.”

  After the meeting ended, Molly asked to meet with me in the breakroom. After getting some coffee, she took a moment, giving me her thoughts on our case. “You and Charlie are right. The rationale for the prior murder and the motive for the current crimes doesn’t add up.”

  I exhaled. “I know. We just have to hope something else turns up today that will allow us to keep the case open.” I saw that she had some paperwork in front of her. “What gives?”

  “I finished taking a look at Ross Adams’ background, as you requested. Other than a divorce five years ago, he looks pretty clean.”

  “Where’s the ex?”

  “In Nebraska. They were college sweethearts, married for three years before going their separate ways.”

  “Any idea why they split up?”

  Molly shook her head. “Not really, but his ex—her name is Cassie—she had her own line of credit. She made a purchase at a jewelry store about six months before the dissolution was filed. She remarried about three months after the divorce was final.”

  “She met someone and bought her own engagement ring?” I said.

  She smiled. “Maybe. Love sometimes does strange things to people.”

  My lips turned up. “Tell me about it. Anything else?”

  “Not really...” Her gaze moved off, came back. “Just a feeling I have about something.”

  “What kind of feeling?”

  “Remember when I took that evidence from the Slayer case to Taft?”

  “Yes. I think you said you met with Ross.”

  She nodded. “We chatted in his office for a few minutes and I mentioned my kids. He asked me if I had any photos of them and I showed him a couple of pictures in my phone. He said something that struck me. It was about a life not being complete without children.” She smiled. “Like I said, it’s just a feeling, but I think he wants to have children someday.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. If that’s the case, even though this isn’t really a date, I doubt that we’d make a very good match.”

  “You don’t want children?”

  I struggled with an answer to her question and finally said, “I won’t deny that I’ve thought about it, but I’m not getting any younger. There�
�s also my job and family situation. I don’t know if that’s three strikes, but it’s pretty close.”

  Molly reached over and squeezed my hand. “As the saying goes, never say never.”

  TWENTY

  It took most of the morning to arrange things, but Charlie got Laura Bratton to agree to meet with us and Melissa Irving of psychological services that afternoon. Just before leaving the station, I happened to see Mel Peters returning from a field call. I walked over to her desk and took a seat across from her.

  “How are things going?” I asked.

  “Working a homeless murder, lots of decomp.” She exhaled and ran a hand though her dark hair. “You know the drill.”

  “Unfortunately.” I took a moment before mentioning that I’d talked to Cynthia McFadden. “She said the DA is getting closer to making a decision on filing charges. We’ll probably know something in the next week.”

  She nodded, but otherwise kept quiet.

  “Are you still getting the phone calls?”

  She nodded. “And worse. There was a message left on my windshield the night before last.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “Same as the calls. Basically, it said to leave things alone, or else.”

  “Did you tell the DA?”

  She shook her head. “They already know about the calls and said there’s nothing they can do. I figured it wouldn’t make a difference.”

  Anxiety was pouring out of her in waves. “Why don’t we have dinner with Cynthia? You can tell her what’s been happening.”

  “I don’t know...”

  I smiled. “Remember what we said last time we got together? What we talk about remains between the three of us, no exceptions and no bullshit.”

  She chuckled. “As I remember, we were all pretty drunk.”

  “It was fun. What do you say?”

  “Okay. Let me know when Cynthia’s free and I’ll work it into my schedule.”

  A half hour later, Charlie and I were headed for the parking lot when we ran into Jessica Barlow.

  “Oh, shit,” he mumbled when he glanced up and saw her coming our way.