by M. Z. Kelly
“What happened?” I asked.
Natalie answered, “Uncle Fred and Nana dug up the bloody sidewalk at the Chinese Theater and put their own star and prints in the cement.” She looked at Fred. “I guess they’re givin’ out stars now for bein’ the world’s biggest pains in the ass.”
Dr. Doris said something about anal sex, which caused Tex to take her into another room.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fred grumbled at Natalie, as Otto brought over sugar for his coffee. “Wait until you’re my age. Your pecker shrinks, your balls droop, and you’re constantly tormented by an asshole—and it’s your own.”
Natalie’s pretty features hardened. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not packing a pecker, or balls, and the only asshole that torments me is you.”
Lots of yelling followed, with Mo trying to make peace between her uncle and Natalie. After more obscenities flew, Uncle Fred took his coffee to the atrium at the back of the house.
“How much longer is your uncle gonna be here?” Natalie asked Mo, after Fred was gone. “I’m gonna lose me temper one of these days and kick his droopy balls.”
Mo exhaled and straightened her wig. “Not sure, but I can’t just up and ask him to leave. He helped raise me.”
I glanced at Otto, who was shaking his head in dismay. I said to Mo, “Maybe you should start dropping some hints. He’s beginning to wear on everyone.”
“I’ve tried, but...he’s like talkin’ to Nana and doesn’t listen.”
“Are those two really hookin’ up?” Natalie asked, before making a gagging motion with a spoon.
Mo heaved another sigh. “I think so, and just the thought of them two doin’ the nasty is enough to blow out every circuit in both my brain and Dr. Doris’s.”
I decided I’d heard enough. “I’ve had a long night, so I’m going to try to get a few hours’ sleep.”
“Don’t forget about our upcomin’ lip sync war,” Natalie said, as I stood. “Mo and me have been talkin’ and we’ve come up with a different song.”
“I’m almost afraid to hear what you have in mind.”
“It’s called I Just Had Sex.”
Mo smiled. “Looks like Kate’s gonna need to get busy before our performance.”
I turned to leave. “Good grief. Why me?”
After leaving my friends, I met up with Otto in the kitchen. “If you’d like, I can help you do that search for Clara on the Internet later.”
He blinked several times and drew in a breath. “I’m afraid I’m having second thoughts about that. What if...what if she’s married, or...or worse?”
He was obviously conflicted, afraid of what he might find out. “Tell you what, why don’t you leave me Clara’s full name and birthdate. I’ll have a friend at work do some checking on her. If it’s something...uh, difficult…then we can talk.”
He sighed. “Very well. I appreciate your understanding.”
After taking Bernie for a short walk, I went up to bed but had trouble sleeping. Thoughts about what Joe had said assailed me. Everything in life is a matter of timing...I’m seeing someone...I think Eva and I have a lot in common and are a pretty good match.
I turned over, punching my pillow out of frustration. The truth was, I’d consciously made the decision to not become involved with Joe. This wasn’t a matter of bad timing. It was a matter of me not being sure of myself and not being able to make a decision because of my past relationships.
The more I thought about that, the more I realized that my life was full of self-sabotage. I knew in that moment that, despite all the bad things that had happened in my life, I had to put the past behind me.
It was time to pick up the broken pieces and move on with my life.
THIRTY
Bernie and I got to work a little early the next morning. My furry partner was happy to be back on duty, doing a tail-wag as we walked into the station, and I said hello to coworkers who I hadn’t seen in a couple weeks. I then stopped by my workstation and found that my desk was gone.
“What’s going on?” I asked Jessica Barlow, who was sitting nearby.
Jessica and I had gone to high school together. While she had a difficult personality, I’d developed a soft spot for her, realizing that, in some ways, we were both lost souls.
“I heard Lieutenant Byrd put you guys in the back,” she said, cutting her heavily made up eyes to the rear of the station. “It has something to do with a reorganization of office space with Section One going away.”
I looked in the direction she’d indicated and saw that Leo was waving to me. I returned his greeting, then said to Jessica, “Who are you partnered with these days?”
Her features twisted up and she lowered her voice. “Tank. And believe me, it’s no picnic.”
“Tank” was Hank the Tank, someone who was heavy-set, loud, and obnoxious. Given their personalities, I knew it probably wouldn’t be long before they came to blows.
After wishing Jessica good luck with her partner, I met Leo in the hallway, where he led Bernie and me to our new digs. “The space we’ve been assigned is a little tight,” he warned. “But the view is...” He glanced at me. “Maybe you’d better see it for yourself.”
Our new workspace was in an area where a wall to a storage room had been removed and four desks were crammed up against one another. It was at the farthest end of the stationhouse, overlooking an area of the parking lot where some construction workers, who were putting a new roof on the building, used an outhouse.
I looked at Leo as I put my briefcase on my desk. “Message delivered.”
My big former partner smiled. “Bronson’s way of saying, ‘welcome back.’”
I took a seat, trying out my desk, before making a couple trips to my car to get boxes. In between forays, I asked Leo how things were going with his new partner.
He rubbed his jaw, his almost ever-present smile melting. “Let’s just say that Hurd and I have our differences. We caught a couple of decomps last week, and he hasn’t exactly been helpful.”
“From what I’ve heard, that’s his reputation.”
He smiled. “So, how are things with the feds?”
“On hold. We think the Angel and his mother are regrouping, so it’s a waiting game. At least we’ve now got an ID on both of them.”
“I heard he’s an ex-cop.”
“Alexander Parker. Did you ever cross paths with him?”
He shook his head. “Not that I remember.”
My friends’ concerns about their boss came to mind. “Did you have a chance to follow up on Jimmy Sweets? Natalie and Mo say he’s still missing, and his wife’s coming unglued.”
“I called SEU and spoke with Terry Samuels. He said he’s heard that Sweets is in the wind after having some kind of beef with Scarfo.”
“From what I heard, the beef has something to do with one of Jimmy’s clients dishing the dirt on the mobster.”
“Samuels said he would follow up, so I’ll give him a call in a day or two.”
We both looked over as Olivia arrived. After saying hello, she glanced around the workspace, set her purse on the desk next to mine, and looked out the window. “I guess this is what they mean about going from the penthouse to the outhouse.”
“All right, enough chit-chat,” a man said from the hallway.
We saw our new lieutenant approaching. Harry Byrd was around fifty, but looked a decade older. He had a shock of messy white hair, watery blue eyes, and a nose that complemented his name. It was aquiline, reminiscent of an eagle’s beak. His appearance recalled a mascot from a sports team I’d once seen that squawked a lot and waved its wings around.
Byrd went on when he got over to our workstation. “Five minutes to unpack, then we’ve got a case. Meet me in the locker room.”
I soon learned that the “locker room” was our lieutenant’s new office space, which had been converted from a former changing room for officers. Byrd told us he was splitting duties between our working g
roup and a couple other detective teams. We had just entered his office when Leo’s new partner arrived.
“Sorry I’m late,” Richard Hurd said, coming through the door. He looked at the lieutenant. “Don’t ever buy a Mercedes. Fifteen hundred bucks for a new water pump.”
“That’s why I drive a Buick,” Byrd growled. “Big pile of metal and grease that’s like a dump truck if you get hit.” He took a moment and briefly introduced Olivia and me to Leo’s new partner.
As he greeted us, everything about Richard Hurd seemed controlled and fussy, like he’d spent hours presenting a face to the world that was carefully fashioned. The thin, thirty-something detective wore a dark suit, reminding me of the standard FBI attire I’d seen over the past few days. His jaw was long, ending at his pointed chin. Thin sculpted brows, reminiscent of a woman’s, rested above his small brown eyes. His hair was brown, flat at the temples, and impeccably parted to one side, like a parent might comb the hair of a young boy.
I realized he was about my height, five nine, when he came over and grasped my hand. His bony grip was much too hard, an effect only exceeded by the fact that his touch was cold as ice, like I was shaking hands with a corpse.
“So, you two got your wings clipped,” Hurd said, referencing Olivia and me, after releasing my hand. He glanced at Byrd, maybe realizing his faux pas, given our lieutenant’s name. He tried to cover what he’d said by cutting his eyes back to me, then asking the lieutenant, “So, why is she back here? Given her issues with the Rylands…”
“You might ask your uncle,” Byrd said. “All I know is they think they’re out of the country and no longer a threat.”
Hurd looked at me and smirked. “I hear you’ve got more baggage than a suitcase factory.”
I ignored him and said to the lieutenant, “Can we just work our case and leave personalities out of this?”
“Let it go,” he told Leo’s partner. “Take a seat, and let’s get down to business.”
After we took seats around the small table in Byrd’s office, the lieutenant called the station’s crime analysts, Jenny Durst and Molly Wingate, into the office. After Section One had gone away, I learned that the analysts were now being utilized by all the station’s detective teams. They squeezed in at the table and handed out packets of information, as Byrd told us about our case.
“Brad Novak was found dead earlier this morning at Lohman Studios. The case is going to you guys only because the other teams are jammed.”
“Brad Novak—the actor?” Hurd said, the fact that we were getting a high-profile case hitting him.
“Yeah, so don’t fuck it up.” Byrd looked at our crime analysts. “Lay it out.”
Jenny was in her thirties, blonde and blue, and looked like she belonged on a surfboard. I knew, from her work on past cases, that she was smart and hard-working.
“I’m told that Mr. Novak spent the day working on the set of his film, Final Invasion,” Jenny said. “The movie has something to do with finding an alien civilization living in the jungles of Peru. The cast spent the day shooting some final cuts for the director and doing pre-release interviews. A reporter Novak was involved with found the body.”
“COD?” Hurd asked.
“It looks like a drug overdose. The coroner is en route now.”
“If it’s an OD, why is it coming to us?”
The lieutenant answered. “We’ve been asked to take an initial look because Novak’s people say he wasn’t a drug user. They’re speculating somebody might have helped him out.”
“I’ve heard through the grapevine that the guy had his share of problems, both on and off the set,” Olivia said.
Byrd checked his phone as he said, “Then I suggest you get moving. Get to the bottom of things.”
I had the impression our lieutenant had another case pending, as Molly said, “There’s something else I should mention.”
“Make it quick,” Byrd said. “Our crime scene is getting stale.”
“Novak has had several problematic past relationships, including an ex-wife who’s on one of those reality TV shows.” Green eyes, about the same color as mine, fixed on Olivia and me. “Jenny and I think you’re probably going to have more suspects than clowns at a circus.”
“All the more reason to move fast on this.” The lieutenant looked around the room. “Keep me in the loop on everything.” His gaze fixed on Leo. “You have the lead.”
“Why him?” Hurd said.
“‘Cause I said so. Now, hit the road.”
Bernie and I rode with Olivia to Lohman Studios in Hollywood, following Leo and Richard. I mentioned our brief meeting with our new lieutenant. “If the chief’s nephew is expecting any favors from his new boss, I have a feeling he’s going to be sadly disappointed.”
“I get the impression Byrd doesn’t cut anybody any favors.” She glanced at me. “Maybe he’s an equal opportunity hater.”
“Better that than someone who plays favorites, providing we stay on his good side.”
She agreed with me, then asked, “How was your night?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, just spent some time with a sex robot, the world’s grumpiest old man, and made plans to do a lip sync performance of I Just Had Sex.”
Olivia laughed. After I gave her more details about my night, she said, “I obviously need to get a life. If things keep up like they are, I’ll end up with a cat and knitting sweaters.”
I glanced over at her as she drove. My friend was not only beautiful, she was kind, something I greatly valued. I knew that in some ways, her past, like mine, had left her broken. “What do you say we have dinner this Thursday night? I heard the Rectory has great food and cocktails.”
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s in Hollywood, the place to be for the in-crowd. There’s even a chance we might run into a celeb.”
“I’m about as far from the in-crowd as you can get, but it sounds like fun. Count me in.”
Lohman Studios was a small up-and-coming film production facility between Hollywood Forever Cemetery and Paramount Studios. I’d read somewhere that Marvin Lohman had taken over the studio from his father and was making a small fortune, producing big budget blockbusters that catered to the younger demographic that the studios targeted.
We found the set for Final Invasion on the studio’s main soundstage. The surrounding area had been cordoned off by police units, who were doing crowd control for a small army of spectators, extras from the movie (some dressed as alien invaders), and the press.
We met up with Deacon Withers, a uniformed officer, who had more than twenty years on the job. Deacon gave us an overview of what was known about Brad Novak’s death.
“The vic’s in his trailer in the back.” He pointed to a row of trailers behind us. “He was found dead just after seven this morning. He was involved with a reporter...” He checked his notepad. “...Gloria Haynes. She says she spent the evening with him, but left late last night, then came back and found the body this morning. There’s a syringe still in his arm, along with some pills and alcohol on a nearby table. Looks like it was lights out almost immediately.”
We thanked him and made our way over to the trailer where the body was located. We were about to enter, when a woman approached and introduced herself as Judy Welch, the victim’s manager.
Welch’s eyes were full of tears as she screamed, “I know who killed Brad!”
THIRTY-ONE
Leo, Olivia, and I took Welch to a nearby empty trailer for questioning, while Richard went off to examine the body. Brad Novak’s manager was about forty, blonde, and a bit on the chunky side, but had somehow poured her body into skinny jeans that looked like she was wearing a pair of tourniquets. Her lips were full of collagen and her forehead was as smooth as glass, a sure sign that she’d given into the Hollywood doctors who promised eternal youth.
“Tell us what you know,” Leo said, after Welch took a seat on a sofa, and he pulled a chair up across from her. Olivia and I waited near a
desk that looked like it had been used by one of the script writers.
Welch dabbed at her runny mascara with a tissue. “A couple of days ago, Brad told me he was having trouble with his ex. Ali was coming around, demanding money and threatening to go to the tabloids if he didn’t pay up.”
“Ali...” Leo scribbled in his notepad. “...last name?”
“Don’t you watch Hollywood Babes? She goes by Ali Hart, her maiden name. I know her first name is really Allison because I saw it on the restraining order.”
“So, Brad had a restraining order against her?”
“He did, but it’s expired.” Welch teared up again. “She’s the world’s biggest bitch. It wouldn’t surprise me if she got drunk, came here in a fit of rage, and shot him up with drugs.”
“What makes you think someone gave Mr. Novak drugs, rather than him overdosing on his own?”
“Brad never touched drugs. He had his problems with alcohol, but he had a brother who OD’d, so he swore he’d never use.”
Leo made some more notes. “If Ali was involved, wouldn’t she have to check in with security to gain access to the studio grounds?”
She chuckled. “This place is a joke. Anyone who knows someone can get access. There’s also a gate that opens from the cemetery without a card reader.”
“Do you know if Ali ever physically threatened Brad?”
“Only about a couple hundred times. Like I said, she’s a crazy bitch and a drunk.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
Welch brushed her blonde bangs back and sniffed. “I think it was last week. She was threatening to take Brad back to court for more alimony. I guess she can’t get by on thirty grand a month.”
After learning that the couple had been divorced for three years, Leo asked about Gloria Haynes. “I understand Mr. Novak spent the night with the reporter.”
“It was casual. She’s nothing but a dirt sandwich.”
Leo fixed his dark eyes on Welch. “Tell us about your relationship with Mr. Novak.”
“What about it?”