by M. Z. Kelly
“He wants me to go to a concert at the Forum tonight. There’s some weird rock group playing there that I’ve never heard of.”
I nodded, but otherwise kept quiet.
“I just wanted to know what you think about him. The truth is, he seems kind of...”
She seemed lost for words, so I finally said, “Fussy?”
“Exactly. I’ve also heard he’s the chief’s nephew, so I’m wary.”
“I understand.”
“So, what do you think?”
Richard Hurd is a strange little turd. “It’s only one date, so I don’t think you’ve got anything to lose. It would give you a chance to see if you have anything in common.”
She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She held on my eyes. “So, are you seeing anyone these days?”
I saw that Olivia was in the hallway, ready to go. “I’m single, something that’s not such a bad thing.” I stood. “I’ve got to run. Let me know how the date goes.”
As Olivia drove us to Lohman Studios, she asked about my conversation with Jessica. I told her about Richard asking her out.
She laughed. “You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “Jessica and I have had our differences, but I don’t wish Richard on anyone.”
“I guess we were wrong about his sexual orientation.”
I thought about what she’d said for a moment. “I still think there’s a lot about our co-worker we don’t know. One of these days we’re going to find out the whole story.”
She chuckled again. “I’m not sure it’s something I want to hear. Even our lieutenant seems less than thrilled with him.”
I smiled. “I’ve got a feeling Byrd doesn’t hesitate to give the bird to anyone he has a beef with.”
When we got to Lohman Studios, we spent most of the morning making inquiries about Novak’s death, but not getting much that was useful. After having lunch in the studio cafeteria, we stopped by Marvin Lohman’s office. We ran into a roadblock named Derek Reese, the studio owner’s executive assistant.
“Mr. Lohman is unavailable,” Reese said after meeting us in the reception area. He was a handsome young man, probably in his late twenties, with short blond hair and eyes that were so pale they reminded me of Joe Dawson’s. “I’m sure you can understand that after everything that’s happened, he’s extremely busy.”
“Busy or not, we need fifteen minutes,” Olivia said. She motioned to a phone on the receptionist’s desk. “Call him.”
“I have no intention of interrupting...”
“It’s okay, Derek,” we heard a man say as he walked toward us from a back office. Marvin Lohman introduced himself, then showed us into his private office, as his assistant huffed off. When Reese was gone, Lohman said, “You’ll have to excuse Derek. He’s a bit overprotective.”
Lohman was pleasant as we made our way through his office to an adjacent private outdoor terrace. The area was peaceful and serene, filled with tropical plantings and ponds. We settled in on an outdoor sofa, where Lohman took a chair across from us and explained about the terrace.
“I call it my Zen retreat; a place to escape the pressures of running the studio.” His expression became more serious. “It’s terrible what happened to Brad. I understand his manager is facing charges.”
Lohman was in his late thirties. He was thin and studious, with wire rimmed glasses that magnified his brown eyes. Despite his serious demeanor, I got the impression he genuinely cared about what had happened and wanted to help.
“We’re taking another look at everything surrounding Mr. Novak’s death,” Olivia said. “We want to be sure we have all the facts before the case goes to trial.”
Lohman studied her for a moment. “You’re having second thoughts about Judy, aren’t you?”
“As I said, we need to be sure of the facts. What’s your impression of Ms. Welch?”
A thin smile surfaced. “Driven, loud, controlling, and passionate.”
“And?”
“Difficult, to be honest.”
“We know that she was involved with Mr. Novak at one time,” I said. “Do you think she was jealous of his relationship with Garfield Boyer?”
“Probably, and maybe his relationship with others. I’m sure you know about Brad’s reputation.”
“What can you tell us about drug use at the studio?” Olivia asked.
“This is Hollywood. Drugs are everywhere, but, from what I know, Brad didn’t use.”
“And Judy?”
“I can’t say, but, if you want my opinion, I can’t see her using drugs to harm him.”
“Why is that?”
“Like I said, Judy is passionate. If she was prone to violence, she might be capable of shooting someone in the heat of the moment, but not engaging in a premeditated act of violence using drugs.”
“And Mr. Ford?”
He chuckled. “Mario’s a power player, interested in money, sex, and his movies. I know that he tried to assault one of your officers, but he’s no killer.”
“And his relationship with Judy?”
“I heard it was just...” His brows lifted. “...sex. Nothing more.”
What he said about Welch and Ford seemed logical. Marvin Lohman would have made a pretty good detective in another life.
“Tell me something,” I said. “If you were investigating Mr. Novak’s death, where would you start?”
Lohman’s gaze moved off, taking in the bubbling water of the pond. He seemed frozen in place before finally looking back at me. “Zelda Mason.”
“Who?”
“She works in accounting, but...” A smile. “Every organization that I’ve ever been a part of has one person who knows the ins and outs of what really goes on. If I were you, I’d buy her a Jingo and get to know her.”
“A Jingo?”
Lohman glanced at his watch. “The afternoon roach coach should get here in the next ten minutes. Just ask Marco for a Jingo, then find Zelda.”
As it turned out, a Jingo was a fruity, slushy drink that Zelda Mason worshiped. We met with her in a small breakroom near her office, where she told us about her fascination with the drink.
“A Jingo is life. It’s messy and delicious, and fun and crazy.” She smiled as she used a straw to poke at the slushy drink. “And, to an accountant, it’s heaven.”
Zelda looked like she was in her late twenties. She had pink hair, multiple piercings, and the tattoo of SpongeBob SquarePants on her neck. She was the antithesis of your typical accountant.
Olivia and I had also bought Jingos and found them delicious.
“I have a friend who loves to make cocktails,” I said. “I’m willing to bet if you added a little rum...”
“You’d have a Ringo,” Zelda said, laughing. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
After more discussion of cocktails and fruity drinks, Olivia and I got down to business, asking her what was really going on with Brad Novak at the studio.
“Brad the cad,” Zelda said. “Where do I begin?”
“How about with Judy Welch,” I said.
“Not guilty. Judy’s a shark when it comes to getting laid. She had a thing for Brad because of his looks and fame, but she’s not a killer shark.”
“How about Garfield Boyer?” Olivia asked.
Zelda smiled. “If this was a game of hot potato, I’d say you’re getting warmer.”
“We understand he and Brad had a thing going on.”
“They did, but the money always got in the way. I heard Brad wasn’t happy with his money management skills, among other things.”
“What other things?”
“Him being a guy, for one thing. Brad was a sex machine, and the machine liked it both ways.” She went back for more Jingo work.
“You’re an accountant,” I said. “What do you know about Mr. Boyer skimming from Novak?”
She came up for air. “Probably just what you’ve heard. Garfield wasn’t attached to the studio, so I don’t have any personal knowledge.” She dove back
into the Jingo. We gave her a moment as she slurped away, then surfaced again. “Sorry, but this is just so freakin’ awesome.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I said. “Now, we need you to tell us what we don’t know.”
“Come again?”
I glanced at Olivia. “We’ve gotten a vibe off this place, that people aren’t saying something. What’s really going on here?”
Zelda ran a hand through her pink hair and took a breath. “Maybe it has something to do with Annie.”
“Who’s Annie?”
“She worked in script rewrites, but left about a month ago. Some people say she went missing.”
“Missing? As in…”
“I’m not sure exactly. All I know is that Annie and Brad were an item—a big item. Then suddenly she was gone and things changed here.” She regarded the melted, watery remnants of her Jingo. “I think what you’ve got here is a mystery within a mystery. Find out what happened to Annie Watts and you just might find out who killed Brad Novak.”
FIFTY-TWO
After doing some research, we learned that Annie Watts quit Lohman Studios without giving any notice. Her supervisor said she thought Annie was having some personal problems, but didn’t know exactly what was going on with her. The supervisor gave us her last known address and contact information for her parents, who lived in Glendale.
Late in the day, we met up with Leo and Richard at Barnaby’s, an outdoor café in Hollywood, to exchange information. Leo told us they’d spent their morning reviewing the case files and tracking down Mario Ford.
“Didn’t get much from the files, but Ford did agree to meet with us. He apologized for losing his temper. He said his relationship with Welch was casual. He told us he thought her anger with Novak had more to do with her not being able to control him, rather than her being in love with him.”
“He made it sound like it was a power thing with Welch,” Richard agreed. “He also said something about Novak’s death being good for business, but, of course, denied he had anything to do with it.”
“Good for business? In what way?” Olivia asked.
“Interest in our vic’s last movie is skyrocketing with his death. Ford said Final Invasion is expected to gross more than a hundred million in its first weekend at the box office, all because of the actor’s death.”
“Ford called it the DCF, Dead Celebrity Factor,” Leo confirmed.
We spent the next few minutes filling them in on our day, our meeting with Marvin Lohman, and with Zelda Mason.
“Mason told us a script rewriter named Annie Watts abruptly quit her job about a month ago, and went missing,” I said. “Her supervisor confirmed that she quit and thought there was something going on with her, but didn’t know what.”
“Watts and Novak had been involved in a big way, according to Mason,” Olivia told them. “Annie’s twenty-two. We confirmed that she’s a 10-57; the parents filed the missing person’s report about three weeks ago. We have their address in Glendale and plan to head over there now. You’re welcome to join us.”
Leo checked the time. “I need to pick up my granddaughter at five, so I think I’ll pass and let you update me in the morning.” He looked at Richard.
His partner didn’t make eye contact with us. There was an edge to his voice as he told us, “I’ve also got a...an appointment, so I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, as well.”
On the way to Glendale, Olivia commented on Richard’s nervousness. “Why do you suppose he didn’t just tell us that he had a date?”
“Not sure, maybe he was worried we’d find out it was with Jessica.”
“Can you see those two together?”
I laughed. “I’ve seen better matches in divorce court. I have a feeling it could get real ugly, real fast.”
We met with Janice Watts in her small tract home in Glendale. We hadn’t gotten to the front steps before Watts came out of the house and said, “Have you found my daughter?”
“I’m sorry,” Olivia said. “No.”
After introductions, Watts showed us into her modest home and doted over Bernie, setting out a bowl of water for him.
“Is your husband home?” I asked her after I thanked her, and we took seats in her family room. Watts looked to be in her forties, with mousy brown hair and dark eyes. She had that hopeless, resigned look I’d seen on too many women to count.
She shook her head. “Wayne and I are separated.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I live alone, now that Annie’s gone.”
I nodded, seeing that she was holding back her tears. “Can you tell us when you last saw your daughter?”
“Last month, the morning of the twenty-seventh. It was a Friday. We had breakfast together before we both left for work.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “This is Annie. It was taken when she graduated from UCLA film school last year. She was...is...brilliant. She had straight A’s.”
We took a moment to glance at the pictures on her phone. Annie Watts was beautiful, with long brown hair and blue eyes. She had that exuberant, youthful look of someone with her whole life ahead of her.
“We understand that Annie did script rewriting at the studios,” Olivia said, after Watts put her phone away.
“Yes, but it was really just glorified secretary work. She wanted to be a famous scriptwriter someday and thought she could make some contacts working at the studio.” She paused, blinking back tears. “Can I ask why you’re here? Did you find out something about my daughter?”
Olivia cut her eyes to me for an instant, then said, “We’re just doing some follow-up on another case at the studio where she worked.”
“Is this about what happened to Brad Novak? Do you think Annie’s disappearance has anything to do with him?”
“We have nothing that indicates that.” Olivia reached out and touched Watts’ hand. “But we want to help find your daughter.”
Olivia’s compassion released a flood of tears. Janice Watts broke down, telling us she was worried her daughter was dead. The meltdown lasted several minutes, despite repeated attempts to reassure her.
When she finally regained some control, I asked, “Did Annie ever mention Brad Novak to you?”
She brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Only every day. He was Brad Novak, after all. Annie was...I guess you could say she was like a teenager when she talked about him.”
Despite knowing that her daughter and Novak were an item, I wanted her thoughts on them being together. “Do you think he and Annie could have been involved?”
Watts took several seconds to respond. “I want to believe my daughter is a good girl, but she...she had her moments when her judgment wasn’t the best. I don’t know. I suppose anything is possible. If they were involved, she never said anything to me.”
“What about drugs?” Olivia asked. “Did your daughter ever mention drug use at the studios?”
We got a headshake, some more tears.
“Did Annie ever talk about a woman named Judy Welch? She was Mr. Novak’s business manager.”
“Judy...yes, I think so. She said something about not liking her.”
“Anything else?”
“Not that I remember.”
“What about Garfield Boyer, Mr. Novak’s business manager?”
There was a long pause as Watts heaved out a breath. “Garfield. I do remember the name because it reminded me of that cartoon. Annie said something about him being a cheater.”
“You mean, as in him cheating Mr. Novak out of his money?”
“No. I think it had something to do with him not being faithful to someone. I don’t really know who she meant.”
We spent another half hour with Watts. There was more emotion and pleas for us to find her daughter. When we were at the door, ready to leave, I said, “Did Annie have anyone she was close to at the studio?”
“Just Kiera. They were best friends.”
“Kiera,” I said, remembering the name. “Did she have a part in Mr. Novak’s mo
vie?”
“Annie said it was just some walk-on part, something about her being half alien.”
“Have you talked to Kiera about Annie’s disappearance?”
“I tried, several times, but I didn’t get anywhere.”
“Why is that?”
“Kiera wouldn’t return my calls. I went by the studio to talk to her a few days after Annie was gone. She refused to see me.”
FIFTY-THREE
I got a text from Cynthia McFadden when we left Janice Watts’ house, reminding me that we were supposed to have dinner tonight. I mentioned the text to Olivia, adding, “She’s that reporter friend I told you about when we were at the studio the other day. She’s supposed to meet us at the Rectory at six. It completely slipped my mind.”
Olivia glanced at me. “If we head over there now, we can just make it in time.”
“The Rectory’s not far from my house, so I need to drop Bernie at home on the way.”
She agreed, then said, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to have dinner with a reporter, given our occupations?”
“In this case, yes. Cynthia’s a friend and knows our conversations are off the record.”
“Okay, I’ll follow your lead.”
After I mentioned Cynthia’s help on a past case, I asked Olivia for her thoughts on what Janice Watts had told us.
“It seems strange to me that when we talked to her, Kiera never mentioned that she and Annie were best friends and that she’d gone missing, or that she and Novak were an item.”
“And why would she refuse to meet with Annie’s mother?”
“I think it goes back to that vibe we’ve been getting that people at the studio are keeping secrets.”
“After we check in at the station tomorrow morning, I say we go have another chat with some half-humans.”
Olivia smiled. “A morning with the Mulats. What could be better?”
The Rectory was a former parish house that had been abandoned and fallen into disrepair. A few years back, the brick and wood structure had been bought and retro-fitted into a restaurant and bar. Olivia and I found Cynthia at the back of the establishment, away from the festive atmosphere of the trendy bar.