Hollywood Scream (The Hollywood Alphabet Series Book 19)

by M. Z. Kelly

  I glanced at Olivia, my brows shooting up. I said to Novak, “When you say no one knew about his condition, does that include his ex-wife?”

  She nodded. “Bradley insisted that no one was to know, and Ali is the last person he would confide in. I told him I thought he needed some emotional support and even suggested counseling, but he refused.”

  “Do you think he might have used drugs because of depression over his condition?” Olivia asked.

  “Absolutely not.” She brushed a tear, and paused to control her emotions. “If there’s one thing I can tell you for sure about my son, it’s that he was drug free.”

  “What about his relationships?” I said, thinking about Welch and Boyer. “Was he having problems with anyone he was seeing?”

  Her gaze had moved off as she answered. “As far as I know, he wasn’t seeing anyone.” Her watery eyes found me. “I guess you know about him and Garfield?”

  “Yes. We’ve heard their relationship was problematic.”

  She chuckled. “I suppose Judy told you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s right, but it was made even more problematic because of her. She never accepted the end of her relationship with Bradley, nor the fact that he also liked men.”

  “Do you think she could have harmed him?” Olivia asked.

  Her shoulders heaved. “You never know about people, but I don’t want to believe that.”

  “What about Mr. Boyer?” I said. “Would he have any reason to harm your son?”

  Her head moved slightly from side to side. “They had an off and on thing, but no, I don’t think so. Garfield...he’s a mess, but I can’t see him hurting anyone.”

  “A mess. In what way?”

  “Drugs. He was in and out of treatment.” She looked at me. “I know what you’re thinking. He would have access to drugs and could have used them against Bradley. I just don’t believe he did that.”

  “We understand your son was having money problems, and he and Boyer were at odds because of that.”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid Bradley wasn’t very good at managing his money and he spent way too much. He confided in me that he didn’t think Garfield managed his finances very well.”

  “Did he think Mr. Boyer was stealing from him?”

  “I can’t really say. All I know is that money was a big part of the issues they had.”

  I gave her a moment as she sipped her tea and dabbed at her eyes. I then asked about her son’s ex. “What about Allison?”

  “What about her?”

  “Were she and Brad having problems?”

  “Just financial. She was never happy about the amount of alimony she got. If you’ve talked to her, I’m sure you realize she’s suffering from a severe case of arrested development.”

  I smiled. After giving her a moment, I asked about other relationships. “Some of the extras on the set of his movie said Brad had, for lack of a better way to phrase it, lots of relationships. Did he ever mention anyone that was causing him problems?”

  Caroline Novak looked at the pool below her balcony. She blinked several times, still struggling with her emotions. “He said something recently about being under pressure.”

  “Do you know what he meant by that?”

  “I think Bradley was under pressure because of his diagnosis and his money problems, and maybe because of someone he was seeing.”

  “Someone other than Judy Welch or Garfield Boyer?”

  A nod. “Maybe, I’m not really sure.” Her watery blue eyes found us again. “As I mentioned, Bradley was a private person in many ways. He kept his illness and most of his relationships a secret. It might be there was someone else, someone who didn’t understand that my son was struggling.”

  “When you say ‘struggling’, can you tell us what you mean by that?”

  Novak’s eyes bore into me. “My son was enduring the most difficult thing anyone can ever encounter in this life. He was facing a certain death sentence.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “You think we’re missing something?” Olivia asked, as we drove to Garfield Boyer’s house in Beverly Hills.

  “As in?”

  “Maybe a relationship. Someone even Novak’s mother didn’t know about.”

  I nodded. “It’s entirely possible. Considering Novak never confided his medical condition to anyone, it wouldn’t be surprising if he also kept some relationships to himself.”

  “Maybe Boyer knows who it might be.”

  “If there is another party, it’s possible he or she came between Boyer and Novak.”

  “And don’t forget Welch is in the mix. Despite her denials, it’s obvious she was still in love with Novak and had her own issues with Boyer.”

  “And maybe the unknown third party.”

  We met up with Leo and Richard on the street in Trousdale, a wealthy enclave of older homes in the most exclusive area of Beverly Hills. I’d read somewhere that Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra had once lived here, and, more recently, Jennifer Aniston.

  “You’re not going to believe what the autopsy showed,” Richard told us.

  “Brad Novak had a blood cancer, called MDS,” Olivia said. She saw Richard’s thin brows lift. “His mother told us.”

  “Dr. Randolph got his medical records,” Leo confirmed. “Novak had been in treatment for the past two years and was failing.”

  “His mom said she doesn’t think anyone knew about it,” I said. “He was a very private person.”

  Olivia agreed. “Mom also told us Boyer is a drug user, but doesn’t think either he or Welch could have harmed her son. Despite that, she doesn’t think Welch ever accepted the end of her relationship with Brad, or the fact that he was a switch hitter. Mom also mentioned the possibility of there being another party in the mix, but doesn’t know who it might be.”

  Leo’s eyes lifted toward the modern mansion on the hill that was Novak’s business manager’s home. “Let’s go see what Mr. Boyer knows.”

  After ringing the bell, we waited a couple minutes before a housekeeper arrived. She led us to a back patio, where we found Garfield Boyer. After introductions, we took seats overlooking a back yard with fountains and a stream full of koi.

  “I can’t believe Brad is gone,” Boyer said, before we could ask anything. “I keep thinking he’s going to call.”

  Garfield Boyer was around thirty, with brown hair cut short on the sides. He wore a suit and sandals. The word meticulous, or maybe metrosexual, came to mind as I studied him.

  “When was the last time you saw Brad?” Leo asked, as Bernie settled beside me.

  “Over the weekend. We went to a club, then...he spent the night here.”

  “You two were still in a relationship then, I assume.”

  A nod. “You could say that, although Brad...” He cleared his throat. “Let’s just say we weren’t exclusive. He was seeing other people.”

  “As in men, or women?”

  “I’m not sure, maybe both.” He took a moment, patting at his gelled hair. “There’s something you should know.” He blinked several times, maybe pushing down his emotions. “Brad had cancer.” Boyer went on for a moment, telling us what we already knew about our victim’s medical condition.

  “Do you know if he told anyone else about his condition?”

  “Just Judy, his manager. She bullied him into telling her.”

  “What can you tell us about her relationship with Brad?” Richard said.

  Boyer released a ragged breath, did more hair pats. “Just that she’s a bully. She never got over the end of their relationship.”

  “Do you know if she ever threatened him?”

  “I know they had lots of heated arguments, but I can’t say if she made any direct threats.”

  I said, “We talked to Brad’s mother this morning, and...”

  Boyer interrupted. “Oh, God, how is Caroline dealing with...with everything?”

  “It’s a difficult time, but she’s...I guess you could say s
he’s coping as well as can be expected. She did mention that she thought Brad might have been seeing someone else, but didn’t know who.”

  Boyer nodded. “Like I said, we weren’t exclusive, so it’s possible.”

  “Any idea who it might have been?”

  Boyer rubbed the stubble on his cheek, his gaze drifting over to his pond. “Maybe it was someone on the set of his movie. I heard rumors about lots of parties.”

  “Could it have been more than one person?” Olivia asked.

  A chuckle. “Of course. I know that before we were involved, Brad said he sometimes hooked up with multiple partners at a time.”

  “Let’s talk about your financial dealings with Mr. Novak,” Leo said. “We understand he was upset about the way you handled his money.”

  “You probably got that from Judy.”

  “And his mother.”

  Boyer’s threaded brows lifted. “Really?” Leo nodded. Novak’s former lover and business manager took a moment before going on. “The truth was, Brad liked to spend money—a lot of money. There were...are...houses, cars, artwork, expensive wines. I could go on and on.”

  “We understand you argued with him about that.”

  “Of course. It was my job to keep things afloat, and, the truth is, it was a juggling act. Once Brad’s creditors are paid, I doubt there will be anything left of his estate.”

  We spent another half hour with Boyer, listening to him deny that he’d ever cheated Novak out of anything. He offered to let us review his accounting records, something that Leo readily agreed to.

  As we walked to the car, I told Olivia, “Despite their differences over money and other relationships, I think Boyer was in love with Novak.”

  “I can’t say I disagree. I guess this leaves us with trying to piece together Novak’s other relationships.”

  Leo had been on the phone as we’d left the house. He ended the call when we were on the sidewalk. “That was Kathy Maitland. SID lifted some prints near the fentanyl they found in the trailer that was near Brad Novak’s. They come back to Judy Welch.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  After discussing SID’s phone call over lunch, Leo asked Kathy Maitland to meet us at Hollywood Station to inform Lieutenant Byrd of her findings. It was mid-afternoon when we all settled into the lieutenant’s office.

  After Leo filled in Byrd on Novak’s autopsy and medical diagnosis, and Olivia and I updated him on our interviews with Allison Hart and Garfield Boyer, he turned his attention to Maitland.

  “I understand Judy Welch’s prints were found in a trailer on the lot near where Brad Novak’s body was found,” the lieutenant said.

  Maitland brushed her thin hair off her forehead and nodded. “Specifically, the prints were found on a clipboard with notes about the movie that was under production, an unlabeled prescription bottle that contained a combination of fentanyl, heroin, and other drugs, and a receipt for some office supplies. All the items were found on a desk that was wiped clean, so it’s possible there were other prints that were removed.”

  “Do we know if the notes on the clipboard were in Welch’s handwriting?”

  “Our experts did a comparative analysis with some script changes that Welch had given a production assistant. In their expert opinion, they’re a match.”

  Byrd took a breath and looked around the table. “Where does this leave us?”

  “It leaves us with Welch going down for murder,” Richard said.

  The lieutenant ignored him, looking at Leo. “Do we have enough?”

  Leo tugged on an ear lobe. “We certainly have enough to make an arrest. As for a conviction...I think it’s problematic. She’ll lawyer up and say it’s circumstantial at best, a setup at worst.”

  “Welch cooked the drugs in a nearby trailer, then went over and injected Novak,” Richard said. “What’s problematic about that?”

  “Motive, for one thing,” Olivia said. “Based on our interviews, it’s clear Welch was still in love with Novak. Why would she murder him?”

  “Anger over his relationship with Boyer and him fucking everyone on the set of his movie. She couldn’t take it anymore and finally snapped.”

  “I think murder is a big leap,” Leo said. “And why would Welch leave her prints on everything in another trailer?”

  “Maybe she never thought the other trailer would be searched, or she was simply in a hurry and got sloppy.”

  Richard went on, saying something about a smoking gun, as I turned to Kathy. “Is it possible someone planted what you found in the trailer?”

  “There’s nothing that would rule that out and, as I said, the area had been wiped clean of other prints.”

  “Is there a way to tie the specific drugs found in the prescription bottle to what was injected into our victim’s body?”

  “Yes. We’re still waiting on the tox screen from the coroner’s office.”

  I looked at Leo. “We all know that heroin and fentanyl are cut with a variety of drugs. If the combination of drugs injected into Novak are an exact match to what was in the bottle with Welch’s prints, I think we’re close to having enough for a conviction.”

  “It’s like having fingerprints on a gun,” Richard agreed.

  Leo looked at me, then the lieutenant. “I think the motive’s still thin, but the drugs would tie things together. I can run everything past the DA, but if the drugs are a match, I think it might be enough.”

  “Let’s get the tox screen ASAP and do the comparison. If we have a match, I want Welch in custody today.”

  ***

  After contacting Dr. Randolph and requesting the tox screen be sent to SID, we waited around all afternoon without getting confirmation that the drugs were a match. I got home a little after six and was looking forward to a quiet evening. All that changed when Bernie and I walked through the door.

  “We’re thinkin’ ‘bout goin’ with a Motown look for our lip sync war,” Natalie said, wearing a curly wig and a pair of orange bell-bottom pants.

  Mo joined us, showing off her paisley red and yellow dress and an orange wig. She lowered her voice. “Uncle Fred wants to join our group. Whatever you do, don’t laugh at his outfit.”

  Despite her request, it took every ounce of strength I had not to burst out laughing when her uncle walked out of the bedroom. Uncle Fred strutted into the living room, wearing what looked like a pair of shiny gold underpants, a matching cape, no shirt, and knee-high boots. An ancient, skinny comic book superhero came to mind. Captain Underpants?

  “What do you think?” Fred said, as he twirled around and farted.

  “I think I’m gonna barf up me biscuits,” Natalie said. She turned to our butler, who was shaking his head in horror. “Whip up a batch of them Snappin’ Crocodiles, Otto. I need somethin’ strong.”

  “I think I look like a rock ‘n’ roll Superman,” Uncle Fred said, scowling at her.

  “You wanna see your outfit?” Mo asked me, probably just to keep Natalie and Fred from coming to blows.

  I sighed. “Why not? But, just for the record, I’m not wearing undies and a cape.”

  While Mo went into another room to retrieve my outfit, I asked Natalie what Nana planned to wear for our performance.

  “Not sure, but...” She looked at Fred, who had gone over to a mirror and was flexing his puny arms. “...if she wears an outfit like his, I’m gonna have ‘em both committed to a home for nutters.”

  Mo joined us, holding up my dress, or what little there was of it. “It’s somethin’ they wore on TV shows in the 1970s. It’s called a ‘go-go’ outfit.”

  I held up the multi-colored micro-mini dress that I knew would hit me somewhere north of mid-thigh. I had a ridiculous thought that I might have to wear an extra pair of Uncle Fred’s underpants underneath it.

  I said to Mo, “Go-go? This outfit looks like it got up and went. I’ll be practically naked if I wear this.”

  “I think you’ll be the bomb,” Natalie said. “As for the rest of us...” Her gaze
went over to Fred, who was attempting some disco moves, or maybe he was just having muscle spasms. “...I don’t think there’s any hope.”

  “The drinks are ready, Madam,” Otto said a couple minutes later, poking his head in from the kitchen.

  “Bring ‘em to the atrium,” Natalie said, looking over at Fred. “I need a change of scenery. One of Gladys Knight’s Pips just escaped from the looney bin.”

  “I’ll help you with the drinks,” I told Otto, as Natalie and Mo made their way to our sunroom.

  When we were alone in the kitchen, I told our butler, “My friend did some checking on Clara today. So far, nothing’s coming up.”

  Otto’s round face fell. “Oh my, you don’t think she’s...de...deceased, do you?”

  “No, I’m sure it’s nothing like that. Sometimes people move and are difficult to trace. I asked her to keep checking, so I’ll let you know what she finds out.”

  He sighed. “Very well.”

  What I didn’t tell him was that Molly thought it was possible that Clara had remarried and changed her name. If that was true, I knew it would further break a heart that was already shattered into a million pieces.

  The sun had set by the time I joined my friends in the atrium and accepted one of Natalie’s Snapping Crocodiles. I sniffed the drink. “What’s in this?”

  “Just a bit of Tequila, punch, and body parts.”

  “I’m afraid to ask which parts.”

  “Depends on what the croc ate before he gave his all for the cause.”

  She downed half her drink in a gulp while Mo did the same. I was more circumspect, taking a sip of the concoction.

  “It’s actually good,” I said.

  “‘Course it is.” Natalie looked at Mo. “I wonder if these’ll turn us into man-eaters.”

  Mo smiled. “There are worse fates.”

  Natalie looked back at me. “I think I found you a guy, and before you do one of your trademark eye rolls, hear me out.”

  I forced myself to keep my gaze on her and sighed. “Who is he?”

  “He’s an actor, but he’s your kinda guy.”