by M. Z. Kelly
“Is he a major dealer?”
“From what I heard, he’s a middle man, but has access to all kinda drugs. You guys need to shake him down.”
“Consider it done.”
We finished one bottle of wine, and Natalie went next door to get another. While she was gone, Mo said, “I’m a little worried ‘bout baby sis.”
“What’s going on?”
“She’s on the rebound from Izzy, and you know how she gets.”
“I hope she’s not hooking up with anybody.”
Mo’s dark eyes swung over to their mobile home as Natalie came out carrying another bottle of wine. My hefty friend lowered her voice. “I’m concerned ‘bout her and Howie.”
“Oh, no.”
“I’m not sure what would happen if those two ever got together. We need to keep an eye on her tomorrow night during Boris’s makeover.”
“What about his makeover?” Natalie asked, overhearing part of what Mo had said.
Mo looked at me. “I was just tellin’ Kate when we get through with him, he won’t be safe ‘round Nana.” She met Natalie’s eyes. “She’ll probably try and jump his bones.”
“If that’s the case, there’s gonna be some trouble.”
“What you talkin’ ‘bout, baby sis?”
“Nana called a little while ago. She said Boris’s mum is gonna be there for the makeover, along with a bunch of relatives.”
“I thought Wilhelmina was out of commission ‘cause of that curse Kate put on her.”
“I didn’t put a curse on her,” I said, remembering that I’d merely given Nana information about a woman, who I met on a previous case, with some purported skills in the dark arts. “If you’ll remember correctly, all I did was give Griselda Lugosi Nana’s phone number.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Natalie said. “Griselda’s put the whammy on her. Nana said Wilhelmina looks like her face exploded. I got a feeling all hell’s gonna break loose tomorrow night.”
THIRTY
I was about to leave for work the next morning when Joe Dawson called. “Just thought I’d see how life is back on the mean streets of Hollyweird,” he said.
“Life is…” I took a moment, trying to explain my week. “Never a dull moment. Murder never seems to take a holiday. How’s the shoulder?”
“Good as new. I’m back in business. I thought I’d update you on a few things.”
I held my breath, thinking about Jenson Moore and my sister. “I’m listening.”
“We got a tip the Swarm is regrouping, going back underground to plan their next attack.”
“That doesn’t sound promising. Anything on Lindsay?”
“Negative, but word has it the group may be moving their operations to your neck of the woods.”
“You mean Hollywood?”
“Southern California, not exactly sure of the city. We’ve got some feelers out, trying to pin things down.”
I took a breath. “I’m not sure where that leaves us.”
“It leaves us with our expanded operations coming to La La Land in the next week. We’ll likely set up shop in the Los Angeles FBI office. Greer said he’ll check with your chief about you joining us when we get there, since Lindsay’s still a key player.”
“There’s something…” I started to tell him about Moore contacting me, but then again thought about Lindsay being in danger and changed my mind.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m just worried about my sister.”
“Hopefully, she’s still undercover and working for us. Don’t give up the faith.” He paused, then asked, “Anything new with looking into things there?”
I knew he was asking about the investigation into my adoptive father’s murder. I told him about the photograph Leo and I found, then added, “I’m not sure what it means, but it looks like Pearl had the photo of himself and my bio-mom all these years.”
“It could mean that he is your father.”
I sighed. “I’m not sure. I just need to find him and get some answers.”
“Maybe we can work on things together when I get there.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“A fresh set of eyes sometimes helps put things in perspective. Maybe we can talk about recent developments, and I can give you my take on everything.”
“I appreciate that.”
After the call ended, I poured myself another cup of coffee and gave Bernie a doggie snap. With the FBI coming to Los Angeles, it meant the heat would be turned up on the entire investigation. It also meant they would probably get closer to the truth about Jenson Moore contacting me. There was no way I could handle a group as violent and unpredictable as the Swarm on my own. I made a decision that I would meet with Moore and then contact Joe about what he said. While there was some risk to my sister in letting the feds in on what was happening, I decided it was the only way I would have a chance of saving Lindsay.
Bernie and I got to work a few minutes late. We found our working group was already assembling in Lieutenant Edna’s office.
“You setting your own hours now?” Darby said, as I took a seat next to Leo, and we waited for Edna.
I glared at him. “If you were my boss, I’d answer that. Since you’re not, I’ll just say mind your own business.”
“Wow. Someone’s a little touchy this morning.” Darby looked at Mel. “Maybe the Hollywood Detective got up on the wrong side of the bed.”
His reference was to a cable TV show that Leo and I had recently appeared on, where a TV crew followed us while we worked a case.
“Cut her a break,” Mel said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
I was grateful for her putting her partner in his place. I made a mental note to thank her later.
Edna arrived ten minutes later and wasted no time using his favorite adjective. “This fucking case is now at the top of the Dumbbell and Dumbo solve list. What’s the latest?”
The lieutenant had used our new chief’s moniker and one that he’d recently dreamt up for our captain. We spent the next twenty minutes going over the latest developments, including Winifred Shaw having seen a man in a bloody shirt leaving Campbell Turner’s house about an hour before Blake Lambert arrived home.
“We’re going to have Shaw work with a sketch artist today,” I said.
“What does Lambert have to say about all this?” Edna asked.
“He’s in seclusion, not answering calls,” Mel told him.
“Fuck. Find him. He’s got to know a lot more than he told us.” He exhaled, mumbling a couple expletives under his breath. “Did our vic’s parents have anything worthwhile to say?”
I answered. “Jimmy Castello clearly doesn’t like Blake Lambert. He called him a user, and I got the impression he thinks the crime went down different than Lambert told us. Castello wants all the facts, but didn’t really give us anything to go on.”
“Campbell’s mom wasn’t much help, either,” Leo said. “She and Castello have been divorced for more than a decade. She lives with a boyfriend, Darrin Stone—no record. I got the impression that she and Campbell weren’t close, so she really didn’t know what was going on in her life.”
“We need to go by Klondike Studios, where Campbell filmed her TV show,” I said. “My friend Mo Simpson said word on the street is there’s a dealer working there who goes by the name Garth.” I looked at Darby. “And before you say anything, she volunteered the information. I didn’t talk to her about the case.”
“Right,” Darby grumbled. He looked at the lieutenant. “It’s funny how her friends always know about our cases.”
“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Edna said. He looked at me. “Work the lead.” He looked around the room. “What else?”
Selfie, who had orange hair this morning, spoke up. “We did a little research on Campbell Turner. She spent some time in Skylar about two years ago. It’s one of those pricey drug programs up in the hills above Dana Point, near San Diego.”
�
�I guess it didn’t work out so well,” Mel said.
“Just another DFZ dropout,” Darby said.
I looked at him. “What’s that?”
“Drug Free Zone. Druggies or their parents pay a small fortune for these high-class programs and they all come out addicts.”
“That’s not true,” Leo said. “I’ve seen lots of people stay clean.”
“Whatever,” Darby grumbled. “The prescription obviously didn’t take in our victim’s case.”
“There’s something else,” Molly said. Our older crime analyst had on a green blouse that complimented her auburn hair. “Our victim was in the program at the same time as Adriana.”
“Who?” Edna asked.
“Adriana Montoya. She’s that singer who won two Grammys last year.”
“‘Hello My Love’,” I said.
Edna scowled at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s Adriana’s most famous song.”
The lieutenant looked back at Molly and Selfie. “I don’t know what good that does us.”
Selfie exchanged glances with Molly. “We were thinking maybe we could try and contact Adriana, see if she would talk to our investigators. They roomed together while in Skylar, so maybe Campbell confided in her.”
“That was two years ago,” Darby said. “It’s a waste of time.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “It could be that whoever killed Campbell knew her for several years, and they had past issues.”
Darby scoffed as Edna said to our analysts, “It’s worth a try.” He then turned his attention to the rest of us. “Jimmy Castello is talking about going to the press if something doesn’t break on this case soon. He believes there’s a lot more going on with his daughter’s murder than we’ve found out. That’s made Chief Dunbar very unhappy. He wants to meet at the PAB at four this afternoon for an update.” The lieutenant looked at me, referencing my past issues with our chief. “Everybody is expected to be there. No fucking excuses.”
THIRTY-ONE
We divided up duties after the meeting, with Darby and Mel agreeing to let Leo and me go to Klondike Studios, while they met with Campbell Turner’s parents again. Darby wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but Mel thought her experience with Media Relations might help her convince Castello that we were actively working the case and expecting results soon. I didn’t have the same confidence, but saw no reason not to let her try and calm down our victim’s father.
As we drove to Klondike Studios, Leo and I again talked about the photograph of Pearl and my bio-mom. I then told him about Joe Dawson’s phone call. “I guess I’ll fill in Edna, the chief, and the rest of the brass about the FBI setting up shop in our neck of the woods at this afternoon’s meeting.”
“There’s still a great deal of fear about what happened in New York,” Leo said. “If the press finds out the Swarm is in this area, it’s going to create all kinds of hysteria.”
I thought about my meeting with Jenson Moore in just two days. “All the more reason to get a head start on things.”
“What do you think they want?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“The Swarm. What’s their end game?”
I exhaled and took a moment to consider his question. “I can’t say for sure, but I think they’re like other terrorist organizations. They want power and control and to impose their way of life on everyone else. It’s less about an ideology or belief than it is about power.”
Leo’s dark eyes met me for a moment and he nodded. “Your sister’s very brave for what she’s done, trying to stop them.”
“I know. I just hope we can get her out and get her safe.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t have a clue how to do that. For all I knew, Moore was holding Lindsay in some secret location and torturing her. Just the thought of her at the hands of the madman filled me with despair.
Klondike Studios was built by the descendants of Walter Strunk, who made his fortune in Alaska, buying up every gold mining claim he could get his hands on. His fortune wasn’t made by finding gold, but rather by leasing the mining claims to prospectors. His great grandson pursued a similar strategy, leasing out the numerous sound stages he’d inherited to production companies. I’d read somewhere that Steven Strunk was worth close to a billion dollars.
After checking in at a security gate, Leo and I were directed to the studio’s administrative offices, where we met with Hannah Montague, the vice-president of operations. The studio executive looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She had purple hair, a sleeve of tattoos, and was wearing a short, dark skirt and semi-transparent blouse. Montague was attractive, in a punk-rocker kind of way. After some small talk about Bernie, we took seats in her office and got down to business.
“I can’t believe Campbell’s gone,” Montague said. “She was the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met, not to mention the hardest worker. We’ve been shooting her show daily for the past month because of scheduling issues and she never missed a day.”
“I take it they weren’t shooting her show on the day Campbell was murdered,” I said.
“It was the first day we were dark...not shooting, in weeks.”
We learned that the studio was running at full capacity, trying to get shows taped before the fall television season began. Leo then asked about Luke Morgan. “It’s our understanding he was infatuated with her, sent her flowers, and asked her out for coffee.”
“Really?” Montague took a moment, her eyes losing focus. “We’ve done a little internal review of things. Luke was a stagehand, helping with sets. If he was infatuated with Campbell, I’m not sure when or how that happened.”
“Were any of your staff aware he was sending her flowers?” I asked.
“The flowers did come up. It was her birthday, and I’m told he brought in one of those five dollar bouquets you can buy at Trader Joe’s. Our staff thought it was kind of sweet.” She looked at Leo. “I can’t speak to him asking her out for coffee.”
Leo lowered his voice. “What we’re about to discuss is confidential. There may be a man working here. All we know is that he goes by the name Garth…”
“Garth Henry?”
“Perhaps. Can you tell us about his duties here?”
“He’s one of the script consultants for Campbell’s show. They worked together almost every day.”
“Would he happen to be on the property today?” I asked. “We’d like to talk to him.”
Montague picked up her phone. “I’m sure he’s on site. Let me call him.”
“No, please.” I looked at Leo, back at her. “Would it be possible for us to go directly to his office? I’d rather that he not know in advance we’re here.”
Montague’s brow tightened. “What exactly is this about?”
“We’ll fill you in as soon as we talk to him,” Leo said. He stood. “If you’ll have someone show us the way.”
Montague insisted on taking us to Garth Henry’s office, along the way telling us he was one of their most valuable employees. “He’s been with the studio for a couple of decades. He’s worked on Stolen Desires almost exclusively for the past three years.”
We were headed down a hallway, leading to the soundstage where Campbell’s soap opera was filmed, when Montague called out to a man leaving an office. “Garth, these detectives need to talk to you.”
Garth Henry turned, glanced in our direction, then took off like someone who was running for his life.
THIRTY-TWO
Leo and I made our way past Montague and followed Garth Henry down the hallway. He barreled through a door, and we ended up on an empty soundstage, where he continued to sprint away from us.
“Stop!” Leo called out. “We just want to talk.”
Henry ignored us and my warning to release Bernie if he didn’t comply. It was a bluff. While Henry was running from us, he was only wanted for questioning, and I had no basis to use force.
When Henry got to the rear of the soundstage, he tripped ove
r some wiring and went head over heels. We closed the distance to him in seconds. I held Bernie back as he released a deep menacing growl, wanting a piece of our suspect.
“Get him away!” Henry screamed, kicking his legs at my dog. His hand went into his coat pocket.
“Gun!” I screamed as I saw that our suspect had a weapon he was trying to aim at my dog. I launched myself at Henry, knocking the weapon out of his hand. Bernie took the opportunity to help out, clamping down on his leg.
Once Leo had the gun in his possession, I took my time calling Bernie off. By the time Henry was handcuffed, and Bernie had settled down, a small crowd had gathered around. After calling for an ambulance to treat our suspect’s superficial wounds, Leo searched him, finding several dime bags of heroin.
Garth Henry was about fifty, overweight, and bald. He didn’t fit the profile of your typical heroin dealer, but I knew that the popularity of the drug and the money that came with selling it had made inroads into all walks of life.
“Doing a little side business at work?” Leo asked him, as Hannah Montague arrived.
“What’s that?” Montague asked, seeing the half dozen small cellophane baggies of white powder on the floor.
“Your employee has been selling heroin,” Leo said.
“Are you kidding?” Montague looked at Henry. “You’re fired.”
“I can explain…” Henry began moaning. “…but I need medical help first.”
“An ambulance is on the way,” I said. “They’ll make sure you’re healthy enough to go to jail.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“Really?” I said. “How about resisting arrest, attempted assault with a deadly weapon, and possession of heroin for sale?”
Three hours later, after Garth Henry had been medically cleared for booking, he’d been transported to Hollywood Station for an interview. Darby and Mel had spent a fruitless afternoon, unable to locate either of our victims’ parents. They were down the hall watching our interview on a closed circuit monitor. I was still angry over our suspect’s attitude and actions, so I let Leo handle the questioning.