Hollywood Taken_The Hollywood Alphabet Series

by M. Z. Kelly

  Murray sniffed and finally looked at him. “Cocaine.”

  SEVEN

  “Do you think our victim had a dark side?” I asked Olivia as we drove to the coroner’s office later that afternoon after we’d discussed what Jason Murray had said about her using cocaine.

  Olivia glanced at me as she drove. “Maybe. Murray made it sound like something happened in her past that she was trying to forget.”

  “It might be that she was molested, maybe as a child.”

  Olivia nodded. “Or, it might have been something more recent. My thoughts keep going back to Ben Allman.”

  “You think he was involved with her?”

  “Don’t know, but it’s a familiar story. A family gets an attractive young nanny and everything changes.”

  I chuckled. “I think we’ve all heard the Hollywood stories about celebrity marriages ending because of the nanny.”

  “Maybe we should go back to Laura, have a private conversation with her about her husband and Anna.”

  “It couldn’t hurt, of course, that still doesn’t explain the man who was with Anna at the Crosby.”

  “A friend of Ben’s?”

  “Maybe, but maybe we’re also stretching, looking for something that isn’t there.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “Just like Al.”

  I smiled. “I asked Leo if he knew what was going on with his partner. He said he thinks he had a bad marriage and had a drinking problem.”

  “Has a drinking problem,” she corrected.

  “I told him about Al smelling of booze at the Crosby. If anyone can get the message across, it’s Leo.”

  Olivia nodded. “All I know is he’s got his work cut out for him.”

  After arriving at the coroner’s office, I made arrangements for Bernie to stay with one of their support staff. We found our victim’s autopsy was already underway by the time we entered the surgical suite. The medical examiner turned to us, pulled down her surgical mask, and smiled as we entered. I nearly fainted with I realized she was my friend, Brie Henner.

  “Oh, my God,” I said, rushing over to her. I wanted to hug her, but she was wearing surgical scrubs and holding a scalpel. “What? How?”

  Brie smiled. “I’ve been on another clinical trial for several weeks and I’m in remission. I realized how much I miss the work, so here I am.”

  My friend had been suffering from stage four breast cancer. A few months earlier, she’d left her job to go stay with her mother on the east coast, ostensibly to die. Her diagnosis had been devastating, given our close relationship. Brie was thin and had her hair was sparse from chemo, but seeing her was like a miracle.

  “I can’t believe you’re here and back on the job,” I said. I then introduced Olivia, telling her, “Brie and I got back to my early days in homicide.”

  After exchanging greetings, Brie offered to have dinner with us after work. Olivia explained that she had another commitment, but I accepted the offer. We then turned our attention to the autopsy that was already in progress.

  “I’ve got some interesting findings,” Brie said. “Your victim was...” She paused as she looked over at our victim’s body. “I’m sorry. It’s just so very sad. She was a beautiful young girl.”

  I took a breath, my gaze also moving over to the nude body on the autopsy table. It was a heartbreaking scene. While I’d never seriously contemplated having children, in this moment I felt a maternal instinct welling up inside me. I unconsciously realized I’d moved closer to Olivia, our hands touching. As far as I knew, our victim’s mother still didn’t realize her child was dead. In this moment, I knew that Olivia and I would be acting as surrogates for the woman who couldn’t be here for her daughter. Anna Levkin was, in some sense, our child, and, regardless of what was medically necessary to find the monster that had killed her, I knew that Olivia and I would protect her dignity and eventually find justice for her.

  After we acknowledged what Brie had said, she went on. “As you probably already know, our victim was strangled. There’s evidence of ocular pretechiae, an obvious indication of insufficient oxygen to the tissues. There’s also cutaneous bruising, a fracture of the larynx and hyoid due to throttling.”

  Throttling was a medical-legal term that referred to manual strangulation.

  “This was a vicious attack by a far stronger perpetrator,” Olivia said.

  Brie nodded. “Especially when you consider the elements of the sexual assault. We performed a colopscopy, examining the vagina, vulva, and cervix. There’s no evidence of semen or recent sexual penetration in that area, but, as you know, there was anal penetration.” She then turned her attention to the typical motives for a sexual attack. “Rape is usually an act that disempowers the victim. It’s often a form of control, a method the perpetrator uses to try to reclaim what was stolen from him during his own sexual abuse as a child. That said, I don’t think this attack fits the usual criteria.”

  “Olivia and I have had discussions about this homicide being done to send a message.”

  She nodded. “That’s a distinct possibility, but rage also played a factor in what happened.”

  “Meaning that if this attack was meant to send a message to someone else, it was also personal,” Olivia said.

  Brie agreed. “There’s nothing conclusive to prove that, but that would be my best guess.”

  “What about the tattoo,” I asked. “The coroner at the crime scene said it was fresh.”

  “That’s accurate. I would estimate it was done shortly before the homicide.”

  “Olivia and I have searched the Internet, but came up empty on what it means. Have you ever seen the M-5 designation before?”

  “No, but if this was a crime of intimidation, meant to send a message, then the designation might have some meaning for another potential victim.”

  Brie went on for several minutes, telling us that she’d taken swabs and scrapings for DNA analysis, but nothing in the way of the perpetrator’s blood or semen was found on the victim or her clothing.

  I then mentioned what Jason Murray had said about Anna using cocaine. “Murray gave us the impression she used the drug to escape her problems.”

  “There’s some minor irritation of the nasal passages that could be consistent with drug use,” Brie said. “We’ve done a complete tox-screen, but probably won’t have the results until tomorrow.”

  “What about the rape?” Olivia asked. “What kind of physical object was used?”

  “It was likely a knife. There were numerous cuts and abrasions to the anus.”

  I looked at Olivia, the bile rising in my throat.

  Olivia went on, asking a question that had crossed my mind. “Is there any way to determine if our victim was a virgin?”

  Brie looked at the body on her autopsy table. “The hymen wasn’t intact, but the rape doesn’t appear to have been a factor in that.”

  “You think she’d had prior sexual contact?”

  Brie nodded. “There’s evidence of physical abuse on her upper legs and abdomen that’s nearly healed, including some faint ecchymosis.”

  “What would have caused that?” I asked.

  “I can’t say for sure, but if I had to take a guess, I’d say our victim had one or more prior sexual partners who abused her.”

  EIGHT

  After finishing up at the coroner’s office, Brie and I went up the street to a Mexican restaurant called Sal’s. They had an outdoor café where we settled in and ordered drinks, while Bernie made himself at home near a gurgling pond. Brie told me she was still taking medications and couldn’t drink alcohol. She ordered an iced tea and I did the same, before she convinced me to have a margarita. After our drinks arrived and we waited for our food, I asked Brie about her personal life.

  “Lily’s still with my mom in Detroit. I just rented an apartment here and am settling in, so I expect she’ll be coming to live with me in the next month.”

  Lily was Brie’s five-year old-daughter, the product of a failed
marriage to her fire-fighter husband. She had subsequently been involved with a man named Phyllis—mom wanted a girl and had refused to change the name she’d chosen—so I asked her about Phyl, as she called him.

  “We’ve stayed in touch and are going to dinner this weekend.” My African-American friend was thin and looked tired, but seemed happy, as she added, “I think there are still some sparks there.”

  I touched her hand. “I’m glad. I always thought he was a great guy and he loves Lily.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She sipped her drink, the said. “What about you? Is there anyone in your life these days?”

  I chuckled. “Other than Natalie and Mo, not really. My friends keep me busy and I’ve taken a break from relationships.” I went on for a minute, updating her on Joe Dawson, whom we’d talked about in the past, and the latest on Harlee Ryland and her recently deceased grandfather.

  “I think there are still some feelings there between Joe and me,” I said, “but I don’t think our professions make us a good match. There have also been the issues with the Rylands.”

  “And they think Harlee is coming back to this area?”

  “Probably, but, as far as I know, there’s been no sign of her, so far. There’s also the issue of what happened to Daniel.”

  “Who?”

  “He’s my adoptive father’s love child, someone I never knew existed until recently.”

  I went on for a couple minutes, telling her about my brother and that the Rylands had stolen the money our adoptive dad had left us in the offshore account, the video tape Daniel had sent me, and his statement that if I was getting the tapes it meant he was dead.

  “All things considered,” I said, “It’s just another very sad chapter in my family history.”

  “Do you think Daniel knew that Harlee might have been aware that he was planning to send you the video tapes?”

  “I’m not sure. I do know, from talking to his adoptive mother, that he was aware Harlee was after him. He was homeless, apparently trying to hide out from her.”

  “Does Joe know about Daniel and Harlee’s involvement?”

  I nodded. “He knows. If he finds Harlee, maybe he can find out what happened to Daniel.”

  Our food arrived and our conversation paused. When the server left, Brie said, “If Daniel knew that Harlee was aware of the tapes he was making, saying he was dead might have been a way of sending her a message.”

  “I’m not sure I’m following you.”

  Brie’s dark eyes brightened. “Maybe telling you that he was dead was Daniel’s way of throwing Harlee off his trail. He might have also been trying to protect you from her. It could be that your brother is still alive.”

  NINE

  Bernie and I got home a little after eight. I cringed when I walked in the front door and heard Nana and Fred. I went over to the family room where I saw they were with my friends, and were bandaged like a couple of escapees from a hospital. They were also engaged in a heated argument, Fred, who was in a wheel chair, blaming Nana for his injuries.

  “You not only put me in the hospital, old woman, you ruined my comedy career,” Fred said. “I can’t even stand-up to do a stand-up routine.”

  “Yeah, you cost me and the Fredster a ton of quid,” Natalie told Nana, surprising me by taking her former nemesis’s side.

  “You two were about as funny as dog poo on a shoe.” Nana saw that I’d walked into the room with Bernie. “Speaking of poo, look what the dog drug in.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You two look like you should still be in the hospital.”

  “And you look like you should be in a nunnery.” She slapped a knee, looking at Fred. “That was a good one.”

  Fred scowled. “I could do better.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “I think I’ve heard enough.” I started to walk away.

  “Hold up,” Mo said to me. “Nana and Fred were just leaving.”

  “They just came by to invite us to a flash ‘n dash,” Natalie said.

  I looked at her. “A what?”

  “We’ve got a group of over a hundred people who are takin’ the BS Challenge.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  “BS, as in Birthday Suit. We’re goin’ skinny dippin’ in the Hollywood Reservoir for charity.”

  “You’re welcome to come along,” Fred said, his gaze lowering to my breasts, not that there was much to ogle.

  “I’ll make a contribution, but I’m not going to join you,” I said.

  “That figures,” Nana said, rising and pushing Fred’s wheelchair toward the door. “You’re just a skinny girl, with no guts.”

  “How you gonna jump in the lake?” Mo asked her uncle. “You can’t even walk.”

  Nana stopped at the door and Fred looked back at us. “Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to be there.” He smiled. “I figure the world needs to see what I brought to the party, if you know what I mean.”

  After they were gone, Mo stick a finger in her mouth and made a sound like she’d just swallowed poison, then said, “I know it’s for charity, but the thought of seeing them two naked makes me wanna barf up that banana I just ate.”

  Natalie agreed. “I’m gonna get us a couple of blindfolds. I’m gettin’ a visual of them two naked and I need a drink.” She called over to Otto. “Could you whip us up a batch of them Golden Gobblers I showed you how to make?”

  “Right away, madam,” Otto said.

  After some coaxing, I agreed to have a drink with them in the atrium, even though I’d had past issues with Natalie’s cocktails.

  After we took seats, Mo asked me about my case, again telling me there was word on the streets about a sex trafficking ring using girls Russia and eastern Europe.

  “So car, we’re batting zero,” I said, not wanting to go into specifics. “No one seems to know much of anything about our victim.”

  Mo had taken off a purple wig she’d worn earlier and was combing it in her lap. Bernie was studying it like it was some exotic animal. “I can’t say for sure what your girl was up to, but I heard again that the ring’s using high-end girls who take their johns to the cleaners.”

  Anna Levkin wouldn’t be considered high-end, but she was very innocent, someone a lot of men would, no doubt, find attractive. It again brought to mind Al’s claim that our victim was a working girl.

  “Can you let me know if you hear anything more?”

  “Course,” Natalie answered for her. “The Dick Chicks are on the case, when were not busy keeping an eye out for Lance Worman’s enemies.”

  “How’s it going with him?”

  “The owner of Razzi’s is a dirty wanker, but the job pays well, so it comes with the territory. Me and Mo are still hopin’ to get the 411 on some celebs and we’re still lookin’ for Daniel.”

  “Nuthin’ new on your brother, in case you’re wonderin’,” Mo said.

  “I talked to my friend Brie today,” I said. “She’s in remission and back at work.” After they expressed their joy at my friend’s recovery, I went on. “She said she thinks it’s possible that Daniel said he was dead on the tape, just to throw Harlee off his trail. I hope she’s right.”

  My friends looked at one another. Mo said, “If that’s true, it would mean Harlee woulda known he was making the tapes.”

  “I know. It seems like a stretch to me, but we know Daniel was hiding out from her, so I suppose it’s possible.”

  “Maybe Daniel is still alive and he’s planning a payback for Harlee,” Natalie suggested.

  Otto came in with a tray of Natalie’s Golden Gobblers. She thanked him and served them up, telling us how they were made. “Toss in some rum, a bit of cranberry juice, a dash of mint, and a bit of what the turkey uses to grind up its food, and voila!”

  My nosed turned up. “You’re telling us this has a gizzard in it?”

  “Gizzards, lizards, what’s the difference? Drink up and tell me what you think.”

  I forced myself to take a sip, even as Mo took a big g
ulp of her drink.

  “I think I’m gonna be ready for Thanksgiving soon,” Mo said, smacking her lips and looking at me.”

  I set my drink down, my lips still puckered. “It’s definitely unique.”

  “Unique,” Natalie said, looking at Mo. “She bloody hates it.”

  “I do not,” I protested. “I’m just...I had a margarita earlier and I’m not sure I should mix my drinks.” I changed the subject, asking if there was anything new on Jimmy Sweets.

  “Baby sis and me followed him to McElroy’s Lounge over on Sweetbriar,” Mo said. “He was there with Tootsie Roll.”

  “There’s no doubt he’s rolling in the hay with Tootsie,” Natalie said.

  “Does Myrna know?”

  Mo answered. “She not only knows, she’s already filed for divorce. She’s gonna take Jimmy’s first nickel and she’s already hooked up with Elmer.”

  “Elmer, really?”

  Elmer Road, was an ex-cop, a gruff alcoholic with a voice like the amphibian that rhymed with his last name.

  “Myrna’s hopped on the toad faster than you can say Kermit,” Natalie said. “Speaking of hoppin’, don’t forget we got Freddie coming by for drinks tomorrow night. Did you talk to Jessica ‘bout coming by?”

  I nodded. “I saw her for a moment as I left work. She took a pass, telling me she’s not been feeling well.”

  “Looks like it’s you and Freddie, then. I think you’re gonna like him.” She looked at Mo.

  “He’s a good lookin’ fellow,” Mo agreed. “And it’s ‘bout time you took yourself off the shelf and got back in the game.”

  Natalie reached over and slapped my back. “I got me a feelin’ you’re gonna need some of joy gelato.”

  “What?” I said, then realized she was talking about a sex lubricant that she’d mentioned previously.

  Natalie looked at Mo. “It sounds like we need to have the sex talk with Kate.”

  “You want the seventh grade version, or somethin’ more advanced?” Mo asked.

  “Funny.” I started to head for my room when I remembered yesterday’s conversation with Dr. Doris. I said to Natalie, “I have something I need to tell you, but I want you to promise me you’ll remain calm.”