by M. Z. Kelly
SDI was still sifting through a wealth of information about the dead agent’s games. I learned that Lundy had been able to contact Myra and the Predators directly from his underground chamber using sophisticated proprietary software, along with something called a virtual private network. The software made it impossible to trace Lundy’s Internet address when, in fact, he’d been in the bunker down the hill from his estate all along.
Several of the Predators were identified using the information on the underground computers. Bob Woodley told me it appeared there were other games being played, with other victims and players out there yet to be identified. We expected it would take several more weeks to unravel the other schemes, the players, and the victims.
Lundy’s claim that he was One of Seven, with six other subjects out there who considered themselves to be disciples of Satan seeking vengeance, also appeared to have some legitimacy. Woodley had found indications that Azazel had been in contact with these subjects who had also taken names from ancient times that stood for evil unleashed in the world. The methods used to contact the disciples had been extremely sophisticated and the SDI supervisor was unsure if the identifies of the individuals involved could ever be determined.
Chandra Martin was also present at the compound. I asked her about her tattoo that was similar to Myra’s. She said she’d gotten it at a local shop in Venice. Latin inscriptions were popular with the counter-culture movement, and it turned out that Chandra’s tattoo said something along the lines of, Gone but Never Forgotten, a tribute to her deceased brother.
As I drove away from Lundy’s compound, I made a phone call. When I ended the call, my emotions vacillated between rage and elation. I was still technically on leave and hadn’t officially been told if I was being reassigned. I decided it was time to head for Hollywood Station and clear the air. When I got there I went straight to Skully’s office.
“I’ve tracked down the source of the leak,” I said, bursting into the captain’s office without knocking.
“What are you talking about?” It was early afternoon. Skully had been eating a hotdog. There was mustard on his upper lip. “You’ve been identified as the source. The matter is with internal affairs. I can’t discuss it.”
“Stan Baker,” I said, tossing him a tissue from a dispenser. “The little weasel has been setting me up.”
“That’s nonsense.” Skully wiped his mouth and turned bright red. He came around the desk until we were a few inches apart. “I won’t have you impugning the integrity of one of my best detectives so that you can try and cover your tracks.”
“Integrity,” I fumed. “You wouldn’t know integrity if it bit your favorite detective on his stupid little ass.”
“Are you trying to add another round of insubordination to your list of failings? I’ll be happy to have IAD deal with this, along with your other transgressions.”
“There won’t be an investigation. Unless you were also part of the setup.”
“What are you talking about? I won’t listen…”
“That,” I said, interrupting him. “is exactly your problem. You won’t listen because I’m a woman.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
I took a deep breath and let him have it with both barrels. “Haley Tristan’s aide, Cher Wentworth, has spent the last few weeks leading Stan Baker around by his dick. The man you assigned to head the taskforce was fucking Wentworth in return for supplying her with information about the case. He’s the leak. They were working together to set me up.”
“That’s outrageous,” Skully yelled. The captain’s face went from red to purple. Was this finally the stroke that I’d been praying for? My prayers weren’t answered when he recovered enough to add, “I will be sure IAD knows that you’re lying to cover your tracks.”
I smiled and headed for the door. Just before I walked out and slammed it, I turned back to him and said, “I’ll save you the trouble, Elmer. I called IAD and the chief of police on my way over here and told them everything.”
Charlie and Pearl were completing paperwork in a conference room down the hall from the fireworks and heard most of our discussion.
“Skully sounds like he means business,” Charlie said. “I talked to my friend, Dorothy Velasquez, at police administration earlier. She said IAD has a case open on you.”
“They can close it,” I said. “Baker is dirty. Haley Tristan will back me up.”
Pearl smiled. In his smooth, deep voice he said, “How’d you manage that?”
“A promise or two can go a long way.”
We chatted a few minutes longer. I found out that the FBI had taken a closer look at Fred Lundy’s background. They’d learned that the deceased cult expert’s parents had died in a fire when the killer was a teenager. The fire was always considered suspicious, but no one was ever charged. In view of Lundy’s killing spree, they now suspected that the couple’s son was responsible.
I also learned that Karma was expected to make a full recovery from her wounds. According to Charlie, she’d released a statement to the press that she was planning a world tour in the spring of next year.
Pearl went off to make some copies of his paperwork. I glanced up and saw Jessica Barlow heading straight for Charlie and me. It might have been my imagination, but I swear I heard the theme from Jaws playing in the background.
“I won’t stand for your harassment,” Jessica screamed as she came over to Charlie. “I’m filing a complaint.”
Charlie held his hands out to his sides. “What are you talking about?”
“You damn well know what I’m talking about.” Jessica began twisting and turning and stomping. Her mouth came open, but she appeared to be so angry that nothing came out. Maybe she was having some kind of emotional seizure.
“What’s going on?” I finally asked her.
Jessica turned and motioned for me to follow. Charlie and I swam down the hallway after the shark until we were standing in front of her office. Even before she pushed the door open, the odor hit me.
“What’s that smell?” I asked.
Jessica fumed, “It seems that someone left a little present on my desk.”
As the door swung open, I saw what she meant.
“Why, I’m utterly amazed,” Charlie said coming around from behind me and waving a hand. “Looks like someone made you dessert, Jessica—a certain flavor of pie.”
“You’re going to pay for this, Winkler,” Jessica screamed
Charlie shrugged and deadpanned. “Looks like it’s your lucky day. Word has it that cow pie is your favorite.”
I walked out at that point. If the confrontation didn’t result in a double homicide, I had no doubt that Jessica would file a complaint and Charlie would get a reprimand. Still, I couldn’t keep from laughing out loud. The Brown Cow bandit had exacted his revenge. Jessica’s payback would probably live in the annals of LAPD history for years to come.
A few minutes later, Bernie and I were on the freeway, headed to my mom’s house. What I hadn’t told Charlie and Pearl is that I’d promised Haley Tristan an exclusive interview about Myra and the other women, who were being referred to in newspaper headlines across the country as, Sisters of the Blood.
Realizing that she had the biggest story since the Manson Family killings, it took Tristan five seconds to agree to the deal and give up Baker as the leak. I had a feeling that it wasn’t the first time Cher Wentworth had used her considerable assets to gather information for her boss.
On my way to Mom’s house, I got a call from Natalie and agreed to stop by Voodoo Mama. Bernie and I found her, Mo, and Prissy in the backroom sipping something called Blood Tea while another clerk worked the front counter.
I took a seat at their table, declined an offer of tea, and took a moment to fill them in on the case.
Natalie then told me something shocking. “Clyde and me are history.”
“What?”
Mo, who had on a yellow full-body leotard, explained, “He’s decided
they’re age inappropriate. Got him an older woman.”
“She’s three years older than Clyde,” Natalie added.
“Sounds to me like a cougar with dentures,” Prissy chimed in.
“I’m sorry,” I said to Natalie, even though I wasn’t. I’d never understood her attraction to Clyde.
“It’s not a problem,” Natalie said. My friend had on a halter top and black leather pants that would probably make a vampire drool. “Already caught me a rebound. Guy named, Tex.”
My image of Natalie dating a tall, dark cowboy was immediately extinguished by Mo. “Tex is a genius, but doesn’t exactly possess a lot of social skills.”
“Tex is so smart, no one knows what he’s talking ‘bout,” Natalie explained. “Always did like them brainy ones. Used to sit by the smart alecks in school, give ‘em a shot of the dick mitten so I could copy their work.”
“I’ve seen Tex,” Prissy chimed in. “I think he’s cute, in a brainiac sort of way.”
I spent the next few minutes getting a complete rundown on Tex, which included Natalie telling me that her new boyfriend loved Mr. Frederick’s artwork. By the time she’d finished, I had an image of a horny twenty-something geek with both Einstein’s brain and hair.
I checked my watch, realizing I was running late to meet Jack. I hadn’t seen him since he’d gone back to DC, but he’d called and said he was coming by tonight.
“I need to run,” I said.
“One more thing before you leave,” Mo said. “The three of us have been talking. Prissy’s great grandma owns a big house up in the Mount Olympus neighborhood, overlooking the city. She’s invited all of us to be her roommates. That includes you and Bernie.”
“We’ll each have a private bedroom with its own bathroom, if you’re concerned about that sort of thing,” Prissy said. “Grand mama’s in her eighties and is really no bother. She lives upstairs and gives me the complete run of the house. It’s really quite spacious and lovely. I’m sure she’ll love the company.”
“Please,” Natalie begged. “Clyde’s shop and your apartment will take months to rebuild and I know you don’t like living with your mum.”
She was right about that. The thought of continuing to live with Miss Daisy, who was in New York doing some advance planning for her upcoming nude world peace demonstration, sent a wave of depression through me.
Maybe it was Natalie’s begging or thoughts about my mother being naked and demonstrating on TV, but I agreed to give the living arrangements a try.
After a celebration with my new roommates, that included a Blood Tea toast, I was on the road again. A block from Mom’s house my thoughts about my new living arrangements surfaced.
I laughed out loud and said to Bernie, “We’re going to be living with a mad British woman, an ex-pimp, a granny, and a transvestite.”
Bernie gave me one of those looks I get just before he gets into trouble.
I turned the corner and saw Jack standing on my mother’s front porch, ringing the doorbell. He turned and waved to me as I came up the street. I felt conflicted, both happy to see Jack but at the same time unsure about where our relationship was headed, when my phone rang.
“We’re going to be grandparents,” I heard Mack say.
“What are you talking about?”
“I had to take Thelma to the vet for some stomach problems. He ran a couple of tests and in the process found out she’s pregnant.” He laughed. “Guess who the father is?”
As I pulled to the curb, I looked over at my partner, who had his head down. Maybe it was my imagination, but he appeared to be covering one eye with his paw.
“Bernie?” I said into my phone.
“It would seem that your dog knocked up my dog. Thelma’s very monogamous.”
I was dumbstruck, but then it occurred to me that maybe I was being punked. “Are you serious?”
“I thought you could have dinner with me tonight and we can talk about custody arrangements.”
“Custody?” I was so shocked by the conversation that I dropped the phone in my lap.
I heard Mack saying, “Kate, are you there?”
I looked over at my partner and then up at Jack who was now tapping on Olive’s windshield.
I turned back to Bernie and said, “So, what happens now, doggy baby daddy?”
***
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Now an excerpt from
HOLLYWOOD CRAZY
MZ Kelly
Chapter One
“Ohmygodyeeees ...”
Okay, so it’s not really a word. It’s more like an expression of feelings and sensations that were the result of me being on the grounds of a magnificent Hollywood estate, pretending that I was a southern belle, and having a man under my hoop dress.
I guess I’d better explain.
My name is Kate Sexton. I’m a cop. I was invited to a Gone with the Wind housewarming party by LA’s mayor, Madison Caine, and my boss, Tom Reed, LAPD’s Chief of Police, after my recent success at ending the murder spree of a mad woman who attempted to kill her superstar sister.
The estate, called Eastlake, is reminiscent of a southern plantation and was just purchased by Caine from the heirs of the recently deceased movie producer, Conrad Harper. There were several dignitaries at the party, including wealthy political donors, a senator, a dozen Hollywood stars, and a dog named, Bernie.
The dog, my canine partner, had become something of a celeb de jour, since he was instrumental in bringing down the bad guys in my last two cases. Bernie took a bullet and recently got a Medal of Valor for his actions, but he now had other things on his mind.
My four-legged hairball partner, who’s bloodline consists of some German shepherd ancestry and possibly a genetic contribution from Cousin Itt of the Adams Family, is about to become a father, thanks to a doggy-style romp with Mack Mackenzie’s black lab, Thelma.
Mack’s a private detective who I have explicit fantasies about, even though I’m dating Jack. We’ve had dinner a couple of times, but lately I’m wondering if our relationship will ever get beyond discussing custody arrangements, since we consider ourselves canine grandparents-to-be.
I’ve also been wondering if all the attention Bernie’s been getting lately has gone to his head. It could be
that my partner has forgotten his humble origins and has started believing that he’s some kind of super breed of canine species. My big dog probably doesn’t realize it, but there’s already a scientific name for his biological classification—horndog.
Speaking of horndogs, I should probably explain about the man under my pink hooped fountain of satin and lace. His name is Jack Bautista. He used to be an LAPD cop, like me, but now works for homeland security. We have an on-again, off-again relationship, mainly consisting of us doing sexual calisthenics when he’s in town and then me wondering if I’ll ever see him again.
Jack and I had taken a break from the party after leaving Bernie with Chief Reed, who was happy to do a doggy style show and tell for the mayor and his friends. We strolled through the lush grounds of the estate before coming across a secluded gazebo.
I’d spent a small fortune on my dress and almost three hours in my brother’s salon with hot rollers, a curling iron, and enough mousse to turn my sometimes frizzy brown hair into ringlets of southern sophistication that fell around my face and neck.
I was pretty happy with the hair and dress, except between the hoop dress and the mountain of hair, I felt big—big that is, as in a Rose Parade float kind of way. I’d barely resisted the urge to wave to those attending the party like they were spectators attending my procession.
Jack and I settled in on a bench beneath the gazebo. We spent a few minutes admiring the expansive grounds, before Jack started feeling nostalgic and explained that, as a boy scout he’d received a merit badge for his camping skills. One thing led to another and Jack ended up demonstrating his talents by playing man in the tent. That’s when I suddenly became religious, started speaking in tongues, and praising the almighty.