Hollywood Quest

by M. Z. Kelly

  Mo laughed as I defended myself. I then said, “I’ll think about bringing Ross along and let you know.” My friends looked at one another and smiled. I again had the impression there was something they weren’t telling me. “All right, what’s going on?”

  “It’s nuthin’,” Mo said. “It’s just that Nana’s plannin’ on making the night unforgettable.”

  ***

  I got to work early the next morning, mainly because I had a restless night and woke up early. I was surprised to find Charlie already at his desk. After saying hello, I asked him if our new boss was in.

  “She stopped by and said she made an appointment for us to go by and talk to Laura Bratton at ten. She’s at a meeting downtown, but told us to wait for her.”

  I took a long sip of my coffee, then asked, “Anything new on Weber?”

  He shook his head. “Just a lot of pressure. Since I’m with you on Bratton today, Leo and Darby are going back to Osgood’s neighborhood to do a knock and talk.” He took a bite of apple and went on with his mouth full. “I watched one of those talking head programs last night. They were speculating the kid could end up being sold overseas because of all the publicity.”

  I exhaled, knowing that was possible. China had a high rate of sex trafficking cases and, while much of that was illegal immigrants forced into prostitution in the United States, I’d heard of cases where American kids were kidnapped and sold to wealthy pedophiles in that country.

  “We need to find Osgood and Martin, and fast,” I said. “Have we gotten ahold of Martin’s probation officer?”

  “Yeah, the guy finally called back last night. He said Jessie Martin’s been in what they call a ‘bank caseload’ for the past year.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “They considered him a low-level offender. He only had to report by mail.”

  I knew that the criminal justice system in California was overcrowded to the point of breaking down. Serious offenders too often went unsupervised. This was another example of a system that was stressed to the detriment of the public.

  I saw that Charlie’s eyes were fixed on the hallway and looked in that direction. Jessica Barlow was walking into the station.

  “Maybe you should get under your desk and hide out,” I suggested.

  “I wonder if that shrew is still planning to sue me.”

  “It might be your lucky day. I heard she’s moved on.”

  Charlie’s dark eyes found me. “Don’t tell me…”

  “According to Nana, she and Boris have made a real connection.”

  Charlie laughed, spilling his coffee. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  My radar was suddenly on red alert. Charlie didn’t smile, let alone laugh, unless it involved sex. Did my partner still have feelings for Jessica? I decided not to poke the hornet’s nest, and keep quiet.

  I spent the rest of the morning on the mountain of paperwork in my in-basket until Olivia arrived and Charlie drove us to Malibu to talk to Laura Bratton. Bernie and I were in the back seat as I asked Olivia about the Weber case.

  “To tell you the truth, I’m a little worried about the chief’s job if Valerie isn’t found soon. Miles hasn’t been confirmed by the police commission yet, and if she loses the mayor’s support, she could go down in flames.”

  “I hope that doesn’t happen. Any new leads come up overnight?”

  “Nothing.” She brushed the dark hair out of her eyes. “We’ve got officers watching the neighborhood Internet café and vape shop near Osgood’s apartment. We’ve also got his and Martin’s mug shots circulating to the press, so maybe we’ll catch a break.”

  “My friend, Mo Simpson, told me rumor has it there’s some negotiating going on. She thinks the buyer for the girl might have cold feet since she’s high profile.”

  Charlie chimed in, telling Olivia what he’d heard on the news, and speculating that Valerie might be on her way overseas.

  Olivia shook her head in frustration and exhaled. “I think she’s still local.” The resolve in her voice was apparent as she added, “And we’re going to find her.”

  Susan Callaway met us at her front door a half hour later. She led us to the patio, where Laura Bratton and her daughter were playing a child’s card game. After Olivia introduced herself and we all said hello to Amy, her mother let Susan take the girl to another room so we could talk.

  “Are you here because there’s something new?” Bratton asked after we’d settled in around the patio table. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept in days.

  Olivia answered. “I’m sorry, no. Carmen Todd is still our principal suspect, but we wanted to clear up a few things that have come up.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the man Amy said she saw outside her window when...when everything happened?”

  While Amy had said the man she saw bore a resemblance to Ronald Reagan, the artist’s rendering of the suspect didn’t come close to matching the former president. We’d also shown her a photograph of Carmen Todd. She said she didn’t recognize her and told us she wasn’t the woman who had taken her into the back yard when her father and siblings had been murdered.

  “You’re probably aware that we’ve released the composite drawing to the press, asking for help identifying him,” Olivia said. “So far, nothing worthwhile has been received.”

  Calloway came back into the room and offered us something to drink. When we declined, she took a seat next to her sister, taking her hand for emotional support.

  Olivia continued. “As part of our routine procedures, we look into the background of anyone who’s a victim of a crime, as well as family members. It’s come to our attention that you worked for the CIA at one time.”

  Bratton glanced at her sister, then looked back at Olivia. “Yes. It was several years ago.”

  “Why didn’t you mention this to us before?”

  “I guess I didn’t think it mattered. The agency has a policy that former employees keep their past employment discrete.”

  “I see.” Olivia’s gaze moved in the direction of Charlie and me for a moment. “Can you tell us what kind of work you did for the agency?”

  “I’m afraid it’s confidential, but most of it was pretty routine.”

  Olivia held on Bratton’s eyes. “I’m sorry, but we’re investigating a homicide, the murder of your family. It’s possible that your past duties had something to do with what happened. You need to tell us exactly what you did for the agency.”

  Bratton ran a hand through her hair and took a heavy breath. “I was involved in technical research. Most of my work involved multinational companies, assuring that their interests and practices were legal and compatible with those of our country. It probably sounds more glamorous than it was. I’m afraid I spent a lot of my time at my desk, staring at a computer monitor and crunching numbers.”

  “What companies did you investigate?”

  “There were dozens, most of them financial institutions that have branches around the world. If you name a major bank, I probably had a hand in doing some research into their holdings at one time.” A weak smile found her lips. “I guess you could say I was a glorified accountant.”

  “Did you ever encounter anyone during your work that might have put pressure on you?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Pressure to find their practices complied with rules or regulations, so they didn’t come to the attention of regulators or other authorities.”

  She took a moment before answering, not making eye contact. “Not really. If there was a problem, I usually told my supervisor and he followed up. Like I said, the job was pretty mundane.”

  Olivia looked at me, raising a brow. It was a silent signal that she was both frustrated and not satisfied with what Laura Bratton was telling us.

  I looked back at Bratton and waited until her gaze found me. “I want you to know something, Ms. Bratton. Detective Winkler and I were the first responders to your home. We saw firsthand what hap
pened to your husband and stepchildren, the violence that was visited upon them.” I waited, seeing her emotions surfacing. “I personally think there were others, besides Ms. Todd, who were responsible for what happened. Please cooperate with us. Tell us what was going on, so we can help you.”

  It took her a couple minutes to compose herself. She took several heavy breaths and finally said, “If there was anyone or anything I could say that would help you, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’m sorry.”

  Charlie also gave it a shot. “I’ve been a cop for over thirty years, Laura. May I call you Laura?” She nodded. “This was as bad as anything I’ve ever seen. Please think about your family, your work, and if there’s anything, even something remote, that you think might be a factor, let us know.”

  Bratton brushed her tears away. “I will. I promise.”

  We spent some time making small talk with Bratton and her sister. We were headed for the door when I asked Calloway about the man we’d met before. “I think you said his name was Aaron. Does he live with you?”

  She chuckled. “We’re just friends. He’s a surfing addict.” She turned toward a window overlooking the ocean. “In fact, that’s him out there. He’ll probably surf until noon, stop by for lunch, then hit the waves again.”

  I smiled. “Life’s a beach, so they say.”

  “In Aaron’s case, that phrase couldn’t be more accurate.”

  When we got to the parking lot, Olivia wasted no time giving us her thoughts. “Bratton’s holding something back, and I think it’s a factor in what happened to her family.”

  “She seemed straight up to me,” Charlie said, before pushing a stick of gum into his mouth. He chewed. “Why would she hold out on us?”

  “Maybe she’s scared.” Olivia looked at me. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right.” I looked over at Susan Calloway’s condo. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw someone watching us, then quickly move away. “There’s some secrets behind those walls. And unless we find out what they are, we’re never going to know what really happened to Laura Bratton’s family.”

  FORTY-SEVEN

  We stopped for lunch at Neptune’s Net, a casual restaurant on Pacific Coast Highway, with great food and an ocean view. As we ate, the conversation drifted to our personal lives. Charlie mentioned he was divorced and that his daughter, Irma, was in her first year of college. I then filled in a few details about my own life for Olivia.

  “You’ve probably heard about my ex. Doug was an assistant DA, caught with his pants down in an interview room with his secretary.”

  Unlike so many others who knew the story, I was impressed because Olivia displayed nothing in the way of humor over the impact of my ex’s cheating. “I’m sorry. Yes, I think I did hear something about it. It’s very unfortunate, both for you and his profession.”

  I took a moment, deciding it was best not to go into details about my other relationships. “After that, I guess you could say I’ve been in the process of trying to sort out my life.”

  She chuckled. “Join the club. I think we’re all trying to do the same thing.”

  “You married?” Charlie asked her, displaying his usual bluntness.

  “I was. I got married out of college. My husband...” She took a breath. “We were on our honeymoon when Alex went to the store to pick up a few things. He was killed by a drunk driver on his way back to our hotel.”

  I found myself instinctively reaching over and touching her hand, my eyes misting over. “I’m so sorry.”

  She smiled. “Since then...I guess you could say it’s been all about the job.”

  “Sorry,” Charlie said as my phone rang. “I had no idea.”

  The call was from Leo. “If you have some time, you might want to meet Darby and me in front of Osgood’s place. I found a local who has some interesting things to say.”

  After checking with Olivia, I said, “We can be there in about forty-five minutes.”

  We met up with Leo and Darby on the sidewalk across the street from Darrell Osgood’s now vacant apartment. They led us to a flat in a building across the street. A black man, who looked like he was in his eighties, answered the door.

  “This is Willie Jordan,” Leo said, introducing the man. “His apartment has a direct view of Osgood’s.”

  After introductions, Jordan let us inside. The elderly man was thin, with sparse gray hair and the tired eyes of someone who’d maybe seen more than his share of tough times. His apartment was small and cluttered. I was aware that a lot of the tenants in the area subsisted on social security.

  Jordan stopped in the living room and pointed out his window. “The guy you’re after lived across the way. I don’t sleep much, so I saw him coming and going, mostly at night.”

  “Tell them about the girl,” Darby said.

  “I saw her—can’t be positive, but I think she was the mayor’s daughter,” Jordan said. “It was a couple of nights ago, but didn’t know who she was at the time. He musta brought her up the back stairway, and then...”

  When he didn’t continue, Olivia said, “Please, tell us what you saw.”

  Johnson brushed a hand across the stubble on his cheek. “I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on over there. All I know is the girl’s clothes were off a couple of times when I looked over.” He shook his head. “Guess I should have called somebody, but I thought...I guess I thought it was none of my business. You see all kinds of things ‘round here.”

  “Did you see Osgood harm her in any way?” I asked.

  Johnson exhaled, nodded. “I think maybe he slapped her a couple times. I’m not sure about anything else.”

  Olivia’s phone rang and she walked over to the window, taking in the view of Osgood’s apartment as she answered it. She was already rushing to the door as she ended the call and called over to us, “That was Tom Reich, the officer assigned to watch the Internet café. Osgood’s been spotted on Hollywood Boulevard. Let’s move.”

  We hit the street and ran up the alleyway to the boulevard. Tosh’s Internet Café was a block up. Olivia got another call as we moved up the street, then relayed the message. “Reich thinks Osgood just made him. He entered the café, then ran out the back door.”

  “Bernie and I can go around back and try and cut him off,” I said.

  “Make it happen.”

  I split off from the others, found a used clothing store that was a couple doors down from the café, and ran through the establishment with Bernie. When we pushed through a back door and hit the alley, Osgood was heading straight for us. When he saw my gun and my dog, he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  “Stop, or I release the dog!” I yelled.

  Osgood turned, looked back at us, but kept running. I reached down, released the clasp on Bernie’s collar, and gave him the attack command. “FASS!”

  My furry partner closed the distance between him and Osgood in seconds, clamping down on the fleeing suspect’s leg. Osgood went head over heels, hitting the pavement hard.

  I went over as our suspect was writhing on the ground, kicking at Bernie. I called my dog off when the others arrived and they got Osgood in cuffs.

  Olivia wasted no time with either sympathy or rights. “Where is Valerie Weber?” she demanded, grabbing Osgood by his collar.

  Even though our suspect was bleeding and in pain, his smile and attitude made it clear he had no intention of cooperating. “You’ll never find her alive.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  “We’re going to die here,” Mary said.

  The place where Valerie and the other girls were being held was cramped and cold. A small battery operated lamp was the only source of illumination. Their underground prison smelled rank, and there was no food or water.

  Valerie pushed down her own feelings of panic. “Don will come back for us. We just have to be strong.”

  “How do you know that?” another girl asked, the anguish in her voice apparent. “Maybe he left us here to...to die.” />
  “If he was going to kill us, it already would have happened,” Valerie said. “We can’t give up hope.”

  Despite what she’d said, Valerie wasn’t at all sure that Don or anyone else was coming back for them. She hadn’t told the other girls that her father was the mayor. Maybe her captors realized who she was and decided that was a problem, and she was expendable. Despite her best efforts, tears streamed down her face as she thought about never seeing her parents again.

  As the hours ticked by, Valerie’s thoughts eventually went to a story she’d once seen on the Internet. Three girls had been taken by a man who held them captive in his house for several years. One of the girls had even become pregnant by their abductor. Years later, the girl had finally managed to escape with her child and free the others girls.

  As horrible as the story was, it gave her some hope. She knew there are worse things than being held a prisoner underground. Things that are far worse than death.

  FORTY-NINE

  Darrell Osgood was transported to the hospital, treated for his injuries, and medically cleared for booking. He was then transported to Hollywood Station, where Olivia read him his rights. Charlie and I were in the room, with Leo and Darby watching via closed circuit TV down the hall. They were with Bernie, who had been given a fresh bowl of water and some treats for his earlier actions.

  Osgood had his leg bandaged after receiving some stitches from Bernie’s earlier attack, but he otherwise appeared unharmed. We expected him to refuse to waive his rights. Maybe it was the fact that he’d had some time to think about his circumstance that caused him to say, “I’ll talk to you, providing you cut me a deal.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Olivia said, “but I will talk to the DA if you cooperate with us. That may...”

  “Not good enough. I want it in writing this won’t go down as serious or violent.”

  California’s laws, enacted in the 1990s, required that anyone convicted of a felony with two or more prior felonies, called “strikes”, mandated a sentence of twenty-five years to life in prison. Recent legislation had changed the law, requiring that the new crime be considered serious or violent to qualify for the harsher sentence. Our defendant had spent enough time in courts and around lawyers to become what Charlie often referred to as a “jailhouse douche bag”.