Hollywood Homicide: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  The Professional Standards Bureau, or PSB, was the latest, greatest name for the department’s Internal Affairs Division. It meant that IAD, as everyone still called the unit, would formally serve me with paperwork claiming that I’d violated policy. They would then interview me regarding the issues before discipline was imposed. What Conrad had said left me with no choice but to contact the Police Protective League to defend myself against the false accusations.

  I shot darts at the lieutenant. “You want me gone, out of Section One, don’t you?”

  “I think it would serve everyone’s interests if you moved on. If you’re willing to request a transfer I’ll see what I can do about having PSB drop the investigation.”

  I leaned forward and shook my head. “I won’t be intimated or forced out.”

  Conrad smiled, revealing a row of yellow teeth. “We’ll just see about that.”

  ***

  After I left the conference room I told Ted what was happening. “Conrad’s trying to force me out of Section One behind a trumped up IAD investigation. I won’t go down without a fight.”

  “I’ll be by your side every step of the way.” The big detective released a breath, his shoulder’s sagging. “I’m sorry, Kate. If I’d known Section One would be like this I never would have asked you to come aboard.”

  I saw Selfie coming over as I said to Ted, “None of this is your fault. It’s just…” I exhaled. “Conrad’s on a mission to prove himself, apparently at my expense.”

  “If you two have a minute, I think Molly and I have something on Hawkins,” Selfie said. She must have already heard the scuttlebutt about my IAD referral and added, “I heard Gollum wants your head. I’m sorry.”

  I thanked her and the three of us headed over to a small conference room to talk. A couple of minutes later Molly joined us with some records from the tax assessor’s office.

  “I did a search on properties owned by the Tauist Temple,” Molly said, referencing the bundle in front of her. “I just got all the records together and found out that the organization has taken full advantage of their religious exemption for property taxes. I also learned that they or, more specifically Harlan Ryland, owns several houses around Los Angeles, including one that’s on the beach in Malibu.”

  Molly looked at Selfie who took over. “I used my best acting skills and got ahold of Hawkins’ secretary a couple of minutes ago. I told her that I was depressed and considering suicide and wanted an appointment with her boss. She gave me several referrals to suicide prevention organizations, but when I went on about needing Dr. Hawkins’s help she said that he’d be back in his office next week. I asked her if he was out of the area. She said that he was just taking a few days off to relax at the beach. I think he might be staying at the house Ryland owns in Malibu.”

  I looked at Ted, the two women. “Gollum’s out of town. It’s a beautiful day for a drive. What do you say we all go to the beach?”

  FORTY FIVE

  Malibu was just over an hour’s drive from Hollywood, thanks to heavy traffic and some construction work on Pacific Coast Highway. The narrow four lane highway was flanked by expensive homes facing the ocean on one side and cliffs on the other. Thanks to a recent rainstorm, part of a hillside had come down on the road blocking a couple of lanes. We found the home Harlan Ryland owned in a small enclave of expensive estates that fronted the seashore.

  “How do you want to play this?” Ted asked as we stopped a block up from the rambling home.

  I looked at Selfie and Molly. “If Hawkins is here he already knows us. If you two are game, maybe you could go to the door and see if he answers. If he’s there you can make up a story about trying to locate a friend who lives in the area.”

  “I’ve always fantasized about going undercover,” Selfie said with a grin. She turned to Molly. “Are you game?”

  The clerk nodded. “It’ll give me something to tell my kids about.”

  Ted and I waited a few yards up from the residence as they knocked on the door. After several tries it was apparent no one was home. Ted and I then joined Selfie and Molly at the door as Bernie began to whine. My big dog sometimes whines out of awareness that something’s amiss. Other times I think it’s because there’s a female dog in the neighborhood.

  “Why don’t you two stay back for a minute,” Ted said to Selfie and Molly. He turned to me. “Let’s look in a few windows, see if there’s any one around.”

  I motioned to the dwelling attached to the main house by a breezeway. “There’s also a guest house.”

  Ten minutes later, after looking in the windows and trying a side door, Ted and I had given up on finding Hawkins. Even so, Bernie continued whining and eventually pulled me down a side entrance to the guest cottage. That’s where I saw a blood trail and found an unlocked door.

  I called Ted over and we went inside with our guns drawn. We then found Richard Hawkins. He was lying on the living room floor in a pool of blood. Someone had slashed the psychiatrist’s throat and then tracked the blood through the front door as he left.

  I stepped outside, told Selfie and Molly what we’d found, and called Lieutenant Conrad. He grunted and mumbled something about me needing to call SID as if I didn’t already know to do that. I also put a call into the coroner’s office, telling Brie Henner that we’d found Richard Hawkins.

  We spent the rest of the day going over the crime scene. When Brie arrived she told us her take on how the homicide went down. “It looks to me like it was a deliberate act. Someone held Hawkins down on the floor, probably straddling him. He or she then pulled up the victim’s head and slashed his throat. He would have bled out and died instantly.”

  Selfie came over and said, “And I’m pretty sure I know who committed the crime.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “SID just lifted some prints off an energy drink that was on the kitchen counter. They ran them through NCIS and then cross-referenced them with other fingerprint databases. The prints are a match to Pearce Landon.”

  FORTY SIX

  It was late in the day when Ted, Bernie, and I met with Conrad, Belmont and Hardy at Pearce Landon’s house to make the arrest. Even though we’d found Landon’s prints at Richard Hawkins’ murder scene I still had my doubts about him being involved. I still believed what Landon had told me about being setup for the Endicott murder. I also believed that the evidence of him being in the house where Hawkins’ body was found was also a setup, but there was no way I was going to share that belief with Conrad and the idiot twins.

  “Here’s how this goes,” Christine Belmont said when we massed down the street from Landon’s house. “Sexton and Grady cover the back. The rest of us will go in through the front door with force.”

  “Just remember, from what we know, he’s got a very sick sister staying with him,” I said. “Let’s try and make this as unobtrusive as possible.”

  Conrad spoke up, taking Belmont’s side. “We’ve got a double homicide suspect to take down. That’s our priority.”

  Ted and I waited at the backdoor until the go signal was given. We found the door was unlocked and went in behind the others as they went down the hallway with their guns drawn.

  When they got to the last bedroom I heard a woman’s voice saying, “He’s not here.”

  After several minutes of going through the bedrooms, including looking in the closet of Pearce Landon’s terminally ill sister, Conrad and his lead detectives came up empty. They brought the woman who told us she was Landon’s sister’s medical aide into the kitchen for questioning.

  “Where is he?” Hardy demanded after the woman told us her name was Monica Silva.

  “I don’t know,” Silva, said. “He left home late last night and never came back.”

  Hardy looked over at Conrad and blanched, probably realizing that Landon and been coming and going at will for the last couple of days.

  Belmont spoke up, telling Silva, “That’s not possible we’ve had people watching the house.”

/>   “He left through the back door and went through the neighbor’s yard,” the aide said. “It wasn’t the first time.”

  They went at the woman for another half an hour, but came up empty. Conrad was enraged when we got back on the sidewalk. “I want a BOLO for Landon issued yesterday.” His steely eyes drilled into Belmont and Hardy. “Nice work on the stakeout.”

  While the others headed for the station, Ted and I stopped by Dirty Ray’s Coffee Shop. We then took our coffee to the park where we’d walked Bernie a few days earlier.

  As Ted took a seat on a bench, I walked Bernie along a tree line and my phone rang. It was Pearce Landon.

  “I didn’t murder Richard Hawkins,” Landon said.

  I scanned the park, thinking it was possible our suspect was somewhere close by. “Tell me where you are so we can talk.”

  “You know that’s not going to happen.” I heard him release a breath, maybe out of frustration. “It looks like I’ve got two murders to solve now.”

  “That’s my job.” I decided he wasn’t anywhere nearby and it was time to level with him. “Your prints were at the scene of Hawkins’ murder.”

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  “There was an energy drink on the kitchen counter. It had your fingerprints.”

  He was quiet for a moment before I heard the resignation in his voice. “I had the drink in my office yesterday. My sister’s aide, Monica, had some cleaning staff in. Someone must have taken it and set me up.”

  “Being setup seems to be happening to you a lot lately. You need to level with me Mr. Landon, tell me who you think is behind what’s been happening.”

  There was silence on the line. I thought maybe he’d hung up but finally heard his voice again. “All right, I was in the beach cottage with Hawkins last night, but I didn’t kill him.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’ve been convinced that Hawkins knew something about Scarlett’s murder, my set up. I broke into his office last night and found evidence that he’d been having an affair with Scarlett, as well as several other clients. Scarlett had sent him an email a couple of days before her death wanting to end the relationship. I thought maybe Hawkins was angry about it and killed her. That’s why I went to his cottage last night.”

  “And what happened when you got there?”

  “I confronted him. At first, he denied the affair but eventually admitted it. I told him I had suspicions that both he and Zig Steinberg were involved in what happened to Scarlett. He also denied that.”

  “Why Steinberg?”

  There was another hesitation. I the impression that he was holding something back as he said, “Steinberg and Hawkins go way back. You probably know they both have a history of abusing women. I know now that Hawkins was using Scarlett for sex. I can’t prove it but I think he and Steinberg were behind the photographs of her and my daughter being sexually assaulted.”

  “How did things end with Hawkins?”

  “I won’t lie. I made some threats and got physical with him. He still denied everything. I eventually left around two in the morning.”

  “I need the photographs,” I said. “You can’t solve this case on your own. It’s time you let me help.”

  After another hesitation Landon said, “Okay. I’ll find a way to get them to you.”

  “What else” I demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  I heard him exhale before saying, “I was blackmailed into trying to fix Scarlett’s murder scene. It was a set up.”

  “Tell me how that went down.”

  “I got a call to go to a vacant condo in West Hollywood. When I arrived there was a phone ringing. A man in an altered voice offered me some money to fix Scarlett’s crime scene. When I told him I didn’t do that kind of work, he had me open an envelope that contained the photographs of Scarlett and my daughter. He said that unless I agreed to his demands, the photos would be released on the Internet.”

  “He left you with no choice.”

  “I would do anything to protect my daughter.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I spent some time at the Rosewood cottage cleaning up things until the police arrived.”

  The way he’d told the story seemed credible. “I need the photographs.”

  “Okay. There was also a partial letter that I found in Scarlett’s notebook. I think it was meant for someone she was involved with, probably a woman, but I’m not sure who. It said something about her not feeling safe. I got the impression that she was being stalked.”

  “I also want the letter.”

  After another hesitation he said, “You’ll have the photographs and the letter by tomorrow.” Landon breathed heavily and added, “I’ll be in touch.”

  “I’m going to say this again, the best way for you to handle this is to turn yourself in and let me work the case.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Goodbye, Detective.”

  FORTY SEVEN

  Pearce Landon ended the phone call to Detective Sexton and walked over to the bed in the dingy motel room. He’d paid cash for the room under a false name. After leaving Hawkins, he’d gone home for a time but saw the police cars up the street. He’d left in a hurry and hadn’t been able to say goodbye to Jilly. He desperately wanted to get back to his life and take care of his sister, but he had to clear his name first.

  He sat on the bed thinking about everything that had happened. He was now almost sure that Zig Steinberg and Richard Hawkins were behind setting him up for Scarlett’s murder. Joaquin Rush had probably been called in by Steinberg to kill Hawkins and to also set him up for that murder. If Steinberg and Hawkins had been behind the compromising pictures of Scarlett and his daughter as he suspected, his set-up had been planned for months.

  The question remained, what did Scarlett know that got her killed? Landon had no answers. All he did know was that Scarlett had been involved with Hawkins, ended the affair, at the same time she’d written the partial letter telling her secret lover that she thought her life was in danger.

  He’d thought about telling Detective Sexton about Joaquin Rush being with Steinberg, but decided against saying anything for now. He knew Rush personally. He was dangerous and ruthless. If Rush found out that he informed the police, the fixer would come after him and maybe his family in a heartbeat. If that happened, Landon didn’t like his chances and there was no way he’d put his sister’s life in jeopardy.

  As he drifted off into a restless sleep, Pearce Landon moved the puzzle pieces around in his head. No matter how he tried to work the puzzle, a piece remained missing. That piece was the person, apparently a woman, who Scarlett had written her letter to. When he had that piece, he knew he would be a lot closer to solving the puzzle.

  FORTY EIGHT

  Ted and I got back to the station late that afternoon. We went into Lieutenant Conrad’s office where I told him that Pearce Landon had called me. He had a meltdown, accusing me of working with Landon behind the backs of the lead detectives.

  “Landon called me out of the blue,” I said. “And I don’t appreciate the accusation that I’m going behind anyone’s back. We both know that’s Belmont and Hardy’s specialty.”

  “Watch your mouth, Detective.”

  “We all know what Kate just said is the truth,” Ted chimed in, supporting me. “Why is our every move in this case second guessed?”

  Conrad ignored Ted, and called his cohorts into the office where I got to recap what Landon had told me. I went over everything I knew, starting with Landon’s claim that he’d been set up by an anonymous caller and extorted into fixing Scarlett’s crime scene after threats that the explicit photographs of the dead actress and his daughter would be released.

  I went on to tell them that Landon had broken into Hawkins’ office last night and found evidence that he’d been in a sexual relationship with Scarlett and that she’d broken it off a couple of days before her murder, apparently because she was involved with a woman.

&nbs
p; I ended the recap by saying, “Landon thinks both Hawkins and Steinberg were behind Scarlett’s murder, claiming the two men were friends, going back several years. He confronted Hawkins at the beach house last night but the shrink denied everything. Landon claims that he left Hawkins alive around two in the morning.”

  “It sounds like your favorite suspect is just trying to cover his tracks,” Alex Hardy said.

  “I don’t believe a word of what he told you,” Belmont added. “What about the phone number Landon used. Did you trace it?”

  “Of course. It was a burner, a throwaway phone.” I ignored her and Hardy and looked back at Conrad. “Landon agreed to send the sexual assault photographs to me, along with the partial letter, tomorrow. For what it’s worth, I believe what he said.”

  The lieutenant rolled his eyes. “Did Landon give you any more details about the letter?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Just that it looked like the letter was unfinished and Scarlett thought someone was stalking her.”

  Conrad excused everyone but me from the room, telling them that he wanted to meet again first thing in the morning. When they were gone he let me have it. “I don’t believe a word that Pearce Landon told you today, but I do believe he’s taken an interest in you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Conrad’s thin lips turned up, making him look like a smiling bald lizard. “Let’s face the facts, Detective. Pearce Landon is attracted to you. You need to use that to our advantage.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that has anything to do with what’s happening.”

  Conrad shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. Regardless, I want to know what happens with Landon from here on out, every step of the way. I don’t want anything held back.”

  I pushed down my anger. “I haven’t been holding anything back. I’ve been forthcoming every step of the way.”