Hollywood Underworld_A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  I did my best to ignore her, as she went on about scrotums and dangly bits before serving up the weed tea. “This stuff is better than Prozac,” she said, handing Mo and me each a glass.

  I sniffed my drink, noticing it looked like spinach in a glass. “You sure this doesn’t have marijuana in it?”

  “Nah. I’d call it more like rocket fizz.” She tipped up her drink. “Give it a go. Cheers!”

  I sipped my drink, deciding the rocket fizz had a dandelion aftertaste. “It’s very good,” I lied. Mo had been thumbing through a magazine and nearly choked on her drink. “You okay?”

  She tossed the magazine on the table. “I just upchucked in my mouth.”

  Natalie handed me the magazine. “Brace yourself.”

  I glanced at the cover, my eyes growing wider. I also resisted the urge to gag. Our former landlord, Nana, was on the cover of the magazine, along with Mo’s uncle Fred, and Natalie’s aunt Mattie. They’d recently sky-dived in the nude for a charity event. The event had been captured in all its horrifying glory on the cover of a magazine called Nude World.

  “I don’t believe this,” I said, glancing at the cover before turning it over.

  “Nana brought it by today,” Mo said. “She thinks they’ve started a trend for nude seniors and they might do other events.”

  “There should be a law against it,” Natalie said. “Nudity after the age of seventy should be a criminal offense.”

  “Speaking of nudity,” Mo said, after taking another gulp of her weed tea, “Since baby sis and me are on the rebound from Tex and Larry, we’re thinking ‘bout doing the JPS run in Hollywood. We thought you might want to tag along.”

  Tex and Larry were Natalie and Mo’s ex-boyfriends. I decided I needed another sip of my drink to purge my mind of the magazine cover. I set my drink down. “I’m not going to a nudist colony or parachuting in the nude, if that’s what you have in mind.”

  Natalie and Mo exchanged glances, not to mention grins, something that always worried me.

  “JPS is more like one of them mud romps, only on Hollywood Boulevard,” Natalie said. “It’s a great place to meet guys. Since you can’t ever seem to decide on gettin’ together with Joe, or Freddy, or that Dave Turner bloke, we thought you could come with us.”

  Freddy was a man named Grant Addison, who used the Freddy moniker after losing a bet and appearing on my friends’ sit-com on cable TV. Dave Turner was the owner of a winery in Napa County, where I’d recently been on assignment. Neither relationship seemed to be going anywhere, despite me agreeing to have dinner with Grant, since he’d helped me out on a recent case.

  “JPS?” I said, at the same time thinking about the term mud-romp. “What does that stand for?”

  Mo looked at Natalie, then back at me. “Just Plain Stupid.”

  I laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  “The name sucks,” Natalie said, “but it’s a couple hundred guys and gals that dress up for the run and are considered prime beef by Yokel.”

  “Yokel?”

  “It’s an upscale dating site that sponsors the event and specializes in prime hookups,” Mo explained. “I heard they even got a couple billionaires in the mix.”

  “How did you two get invited?”

  Mo’s heavy features tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean? You don’t think me and baby sis are good enough for rich people?”

  “In some circles, Mo and me are considered primo cargo,” Natalie said, “and I ain’t talkin’ luggage.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I said, seeing they were upset. “I’m just not sure I’m ready for a dating event, especially one that’s called Just Plain Stupid.”

  “You don’t have to decide tonight. Just give it some thought.”

  I changed the subject, asking about their work at their PI firm. Their former boss, a sleazeball named Jimmy Sweets, had recently left his wife for one of his employees, a woman who went by the name Tootsie Roll. His wife was now in charge of the business.

  “Is Myrna still running the show?” I asked.

  “Me and baby sis are now her prime investigators. The Dick Chicks are in big demand. We got us a bunch of upcoming gigs.”

  “Myrna’s hookin’ us up with a group of high roller clients,” Natalie said. She looked at Mo. “Hey, maybe we can work our sources and get the lowdown on that bloke they call Phaedrus.”

  Mo shrugged. “Since he’s operating in this area, somebody’s gotta have the goods on him.”

  “It’s a federal investigation,” I said. “I can’t have you involved.”

  Mo scowled. “We know you just gotta say that ‘cause it’s your job. We’ll let you know what we find out ‘bout him and Underworld.”

  “How did you know about that?”

  Mo rolled her eyes, shook her head. “You really gotta ask?”

  “Maybe the bloke is hidin’ out in the sewer. Or a cave,” Natalie suggested. She looked at Mo again. “Maybe we could put Bones on it.”

  “Who?” I said.

  “Tex created a male version of Dr. Doris. He said he’s so smart that he can practically predict the future.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. Natalie’s ex was a Brainiac who lacked any common sense. Doris was his sexual avatar, someone who, Natalie had recently told us, was now Tex’s fiancée, although I thought it was doubtful that anyone could legally marry a robot.

  Mo went on about Bones. “Tex said something ‘bout his creation being able to find serial killers. It wouldn’t hurt to ask him ‘bout Phaedrus.”

  “I’ll say it again,” I said. “I can’t have any of you involved.”

  Mo looked at Natalie. “Let’s see if Tex can bring Bones by this week. We gotta find this guy before he kills another girl.”

  I put my drink down and stood. “I’m going to call it a night. I have a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Before you go rushing off,” Mo said, “what’s the latest with Pearl?”

  “He’s at an undisclosed location because the feds are convinced the Swarm could be after him. Joe and I are supposed to go by and talk to him tomorrow.”

  “I hope he knows something ‘bout Daniel,” Natalie said. “His trail has gone cold.”

  Daniel was my adoptive father’s son, born out of wedlock to my father’s girlfriend when they were teenagers. I’d never met him and only recently learned of his existence, thanks to a series of videotapes he’d sent me, telling me that he wanted to explain about our shared family history.

  My friends had learned that Harlee Ryland had been stalking Daniel, probably planning to kill him, before she’d been arrested. The last tape he’d sent ended abruptly after he’d told me that my adoptive father was planning to go to the authorities about Harlan Ryland’s drug dealing before he was murdered. I hated to think it, but it seemed doubtful to me that Daniel was still alive.

  “I hope Pearl knows something,” I said. “The feds put him in witness protection before we had a chance to talk.”

  As I was heading upstairs, Natalie again said something about signing me up for the JPS event. I thought about trying to convince her that I wasn’t interested, but I was too tired to respond. Instead, I trudged up to my room with Bernie and got ready for bed.

  After saying good night to my furry companion, I pulled my covers up and fell into a deep sleep. I slept soundly until a dream came to me. I saw myself in a dark room, the outside world silently locked away from me. But, as the dream wore on, a misty, ethereal smoke seeped in beneath my door. The smoke hovered in the bedroom, devoid of any shape.

  My nightmare grew worse as the mist coalesced into the shadowy silhouette of the man who had assaulted my senses earlier that day with the horrifying images of Noel Sanford.

  I was locked in a darkened room with Phaedrus.

  FIVE

  I texted Joe the next morning and told him I would meet him at FBI headquarters that afternoon. I’d made plans to leave Bernie at Hollywood Station for the day, knowing that he was missing our coworkers
. When we got to the station, our lieutenant, Harry Byrd, asked me to attend his morning briefing. At the table in his office, I took a seat beside my partner, Olivia, along with detectives Leo Kingsley and Al Corbin.

  “Change of plans,” Byrd announced, after we’d all settled in, and Bernie found a corner for a nap. He looked at Leo. “The feds want you to partner with Kate while they sort out the latest developments. That means Quest and Corbin will be working McVey and Spence.”

  Olivia had mentioned to me earlier that their case involved the double homicide of two lovers.

  “Why not her?” Al said, referring to Olivia. “She’s Sexton’s partner.”

  Byrd, who was in his fifties, with a nest of fluffy white hair (maybe a tribute to his name), scowled at his subordinate. “I’m not a fucking mind reader. All I know is they want Kingsley. That means you and Quest work McVey and Spence. End of story.”

  “It’s probably because I worked with Pearl Kramer at one time,” Leo told Al, in his silky deep baritone voice, maybe in an effort to make peace.

  Leo was African-American, pushing sixty, with a shaved head. He had thirty-plus years on the job and had been talking about retiring. He’d recently confided in me that he was having reservations because he wasn’t sure how he’d spend his time if he wasn’t working.

  The lieutenant looked at Leo and me. “Before you two head downtown, I want to update everyone on our case, since you’ll all be working it together if things stall out with the feds.” Byrd looked at Leo. “I’ll let you update everyone.”

  I glanced at Olivia, raising my brows. There had been no love lost between her and Al in the few weeks they’d been on the same assignment. She was convinced Al was a misogynist, who went out of his way to make her life difficult. Olivia had been my supervisor at one time, one of the first female African-American lieutenants. She had been demoted when one of her detectives had become infatuated with another officer and murdered her. The circumstances had nothing to do with Olivia’s supervision, but she had become the fall guy, or gal, for things beyond her control. Olivia and I had become close friends in the few short weeks that we’d worked together, and I was sympathetic for her having to work with Al.

  Leo took a moment to pass around photographs of the victims. “John McVey was an Associate Editor for the Herald-Press, recently involved in assigning staff to investigate the murder of Gina Spence, a teacher at Monroe Middle School in North Hollywood. As you may know, or have seen on TV, Spence’s body was found in a parking garage a couple nights ago near the West Hollywood Gateway. From what we know, she’d spent a couple hours shopping before leaving the mall. She was shot in the back just after seven at night, car keys in hand. Her purse was near the body, so the motive wasn’t robbery.

  “McVey was found dead in his home last night. He was shot in the back, like Spence. Ballistics on the round taken from the body shows the weapon is a match to the one used on Spence. There’s nothing in the databases that indicates the weapon was ever registered. We interviewed a couple of the reporters at his newspaper. They said McVey had been devastated over Spence’s death. He was obsessed with finding her killer because they’d been having a secret affair over the past year.”

  “Were either of them married?” I asked, after reviewing their photographs. Both victims were nice looking, with Spence in her thirties and McVey a couple decades older.

  Olivia took over. “McVey had been divorced for five years. The ex-wife, Stephanie, lives in San Diego. Gina Spence was married to Garth, a guidance counselor at her school. We interviewed him after his wife’s murder, then again after the McVey homicide. He had alibis for both occasions and claims he had no idea his wife was involved with the reporter.”

  “He’s guilty,” Al said. “It’s just a matter of sorting out the details.”

  Leo fixed his dark eyes on his partner. “If he is, it means he hired someone to do the killings. His alibis are solid.”

  Al looked at the lieutenant. “We need to check his bank accounts. I’m willing to bet there was a recent large withdrawal to pay for the killings.”

  “Anyone else in the mix?” Byrd asked Olivia, ignoring Al. “Other love interests, enemies, problems at work for either vic?”

  “Nothing that we’ve turned up, so far,” Leo said. “There’s still some work to do, including talking to Spence’s ex. She didn’t return our calls last night.”

  Byrd scribbled something on the pad in front of him. “Anything else?”

  “Just that Gina Spence was one of those teachers everyone liked. The school called in some counselors for the students. I understand the kids are taking it pretty hard.”

  “Not to mention she was a looker,” Al said. “It might even be there were other guys in the sack, and one of them found out about McVey.”

  Despite the way he phrased things, what Al said couldn’t be ruled out. Gina Spence was beautiful, with a near-perfect figure and blonde hair.

  “I thought you just said her husband did the killing,” Olivia said.

  Al scowled at his temporary new partner. “Just covering all the possibilities. You never know with a woman like that.”

  Olivia looked at me, shaking her head. I could tell it was taking all her control not to tell Al what she thought of his comments.

  Lieutenant Byrd, obviously sensing the tension in the room, said, “Okay, that’s the basics. Let’s get to work.” He looked at Leo and me. “Keep me in the loop on the federal case. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and the guy who killed the senator’s daughter will end up in an adjoining cell with Ryland before the day’s out.”

  As I gathered up my paperwork, I thought the possibility of that happening was probably the same as Al Corbin becoming a feminist.

  ***

  After our meeting ended, I told Leo I had a text from Cynthia McFadden, asking me to have coffee with her. I told him the meeting might be important, since Phaedrus had called her about the most recent victim. He agreed, saying he would meet me at FBI headquarters at one.

  I met with Cynthia at a café on Wilshire Boulevard in downtown Los Angeles just before noon. After getting our coffee and food, we took seats on an outdoor patio, where she asked me about Bernie.

  “He’s not authorized to work with the FBI, so he’s the official Hollywood Station mascot until further notice. It’s not his favorite duty, but at least he gets to be around the other officers.”

  “I’m sure they all appreciate having him there.”

  Cynthia’s demeanor was subdued. My friend was pretty, with features that often reminded me of photographs I’d seen of Jacqueline Kennedy. This morning, she looked tired.

  I lowered my voice. “Are you doing okay?”

  Her thickly-lashed dark eyes came up to me, and blinked a couple times. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Is this because of what happened yesterday?”

  She nodded. “That’s part of it.” She twisted her coffee cup in her hand. “I’ve been thinking about the phone call. Do you think there’s any chance he could come after me?”

  “Phaedrus?”

  She nodded. “I was up all night, worrying.”

  I tried to relieve her concerns. “I think the reason he called you is because...” I paused, trying to choose my words carefully. “I think he’s acting on behalf of Harlee Ryland. She probably knows we’re friends. That’s why you got the call. She wanted to be sure I was there when the victim was found.”

  She took a moment to process what I’d said. “There’s something else he said yesterday when he called that I didn’t mention. I realized that if I didn’t tell you about it, I might regret it.”

  “What’s that?”

  Her gaze drifted off, and she seemed distracted. “It’s very strange, and it brought up some issues from my past.” It was obvious she was struggling with what was on her mind, so I gave her a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned this before, but I have a brother. Jimmy’s mentally ill and suffers delusional episodes. He has spells where he believe
s certain things are happening that have no basis in reality. It’s very scary when it happens, and...” She took a breath. “...he can be dangerous.”

  “He’s threatened you?”

  “Yes. Jimmy sometimes believes that I’m responsible for alienating our parents from him.” She blinked several times, holding back her emotions. “The truth is my parents have spent their lives and thousands of dollars trying to get help for him, but he’s threatened to kill them. They’ve had to get restraining orders to keep him away. It’s a very sad chapter in all our lives.”

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you.”

  She nodded, again blinking back tears. “The reason I’m mentioning this is because of something Phaedrus said during his phone call. It reminded me of Jimmy.”

  I leaned closer to her. “What exactly did he say?”

  “I don’t really understand it, but, just before his call ended, he said something about the past.”

  I reached over and took her hand, seeing that she was still struggling to tell me what was on her mind. “I’m listening.”

  “I know this is odd, but he paused just before the line went dead and said what’s happening is a dialogue.”

  “A dialogue?”

  She nodded. “He said it’s a dialogue about the soul, madness, and the divine.”

  SIX

  That afternoon, as Joe Dawson drove Leo and me to the Millennium Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, where Pearl was staying, I told them about what Cynthia had said. “I have no idea what it means, but Cynthia and I are now wondering if Phaedrus could be mentally ill.”

  Joe glanced at me. “You mean like being psychotic?”

  “Maybe, or just delusional.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen a killer who’s suffering from a mental illness,” Leo said from the back seat. “It might also be that he’s acting out Harlee’s delusions.”

  Joe glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “You might be onto something.” He looked at me. “A shared psychosis?”

  “It’s possible.” My gaze moved off, taking in the homeless scattered on the sidewalks, many who were probably mentally ill. “If theirs is a shared psychosis, there’s also a method to their madness.” I looked back at Joe. “I guess you’ve seen the news.”