by M. Z. Kelly
“That’s great. About Michael, I mean.” After a long pause, I said, “So where did you and Clark leave things?”
“He said something about getting together one of these days, but I don’t think his heart was really in it.” His dark eyes became downcast. “Perhaps there’s someone else.”
I stood and went over to him. “I think it’s more likely that your call was unexpected and Clark wasn’t sure exactly what to say. Give it some time and stay in touch with him. You never know.”
His misty eyes lifted. “You’re probably right, Madam.”
I held on his eyes. “It’s Kate.”
He nodded. “Kate.”
I hugged him before thanking him for my food and taking it into the living room. I finished eating, and had dozed off watching an old movie on TV, when my phone rang.
“Kate, you gotta get down here right away,” I heard Mo saying.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Down where? What’s going on?”
“We’re at Club Chub, off Sunset. It’s Natalie and Uncle Fred. They’re about to go on stage.”
“On stage? For what?”
“We had our dress rehearsal for the lip sync war tonight, and them two started going at it. They got a big audience here and they’re gonna do that verbal beat down they been talkin’ ‘bout right now.”
I groaned. “I’m tired, and...”
“I’m ‘fraid there could be some trouble, unless you’re here. They’re both takin’ this way too serious.” Mo went on, telling me that Natalie and Fred were so angry with one another that it might get physical. I finally relented and told her I would be there in half an hour.
After making arrangements for Otto to watch Bernie, I made my way to the trendy nightclub, which was in a converted factory. I saw there was a big crowd on the sidewalk as I parked, then met some resistance from security staff as I tried to enter the establishment.
“We’re full,” the bouncer said. “We can’t exceed fire department regulations for the building’s capacity.”
I showed him my credentials. “I’ll help with crowd control.”
The big guy removed the velvet rope. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.” He looked around at the gathering. “This could get real ugly.”
“Why are there so many people here?”
“Something went out on social media about the world’s greatest verbal smackdown, and it turned into a flash mob.”
I left him and entered the club, wondering if I should call the department for help with security. I then ran into Mo, who was with Nana at the front of the stage, where I was told Natalie and Fred were about to square off.
“The winner gets one of them prize-fightin’ belts,” Mo said after explaining about the upcoming contest. “I’m afraid if Uncle Fred wins, it will fall right off his skinny ass.”
Nana, who appeared to be already feeling the effects of several drinks, said to me, “If those two start throwing punches, I want you to stand back and let ‘em fight. We need some action in this town.” Some people behind her heard what she’d said and began shouting, “Let ‘em fight!”
While Natalie and Fred didn’t throw any punches, they did come out wearing robes and boxing gloves, like a pair of prize fighters. When their robes came off, I saw that Natalie had on a skimpy bikini that left little to the imagination and caused the men in the audience to go crazy. Fred, on the other hand, had on the same boxer briefs and cape he’d worn a few nights earlier. If the club had a marquee out front, the caption for the night’s performance would probably read: Bikini Babe v. Captain Underpants.
The club announcer took the stage and told the crowd how the night’s festivities would go. “Each contestant will be allowed a one-liner directed at the other party. An applause meter will register the winner of each round. Tonight’s bout will consist of ten rounds. The winner will receive the Club Chub joust-a-bout trophy belt and a cash prize.”
After a roar of approval, the crowd quieted down. Natalie was chosen to go first by random drawing. The spotlight turned on my friend as she scowled at her skinny, ancient opponent and delivered her first verbal punch.
Natalie grabbed ahold of her microphone and made a disparaging comment about Fred’s anatomy and personality, before adding, “My opponent is living proof that you can’t put a flower in an asshole and call it a vase.”
While the crowd cheered Natalie’s performance, Fred scoffed and took over the microphone. He said to Natalie, “Is that the best you got?” He then looked at the crowd. “I guess it’s to be expected. Do you know why Natalie wears panties? To keep her ankles warm.”
The crowd went nuts, and verbal war was declared, Natalie delivering a line about Fred being so old he’d outlived his own dick. Fred responded by asking the crowd if they knew why Natalie got a boob job. He answered his own question by saying it was the only job she was qualified for.
As the match wore on, and verbal punches were thrown, the crowd grew louder and drunker, until Nana threw her ancient body into a mosh pit and began body surfing the crowd. All that was before the club announcer told us the match was tied, and Natalie and Fred were asked to deliver their final lines of the night.
Natalie went first. She looked at her opponent and spat, “Do you know what Fred and dog crap have in common? They both smell, and, no matter how old they get, they’re both still just a big pile of shit.”
Mo’s uncle booed loudly. “That sucks, and so does she.” The crowd noise rose up, then quieted again, as Fred delivered his final one-liner. “Do you know what Natalie’s favorite nursery rhyme is? Hump-me, Dump-me.”
Years before, I’d learned the term critical mass, which defines a turning point where all social and societal norms break down. It marks that juncture in human behavior where all you can do is expect the unexpected. That explains what happened next.
Natalie and Fred grabbed each other by the necks, began choking one another, and then lost their balance. They fell into the surging crowd, which engulfed them. Mo, Nana, and I were all buried beneath a mound of angry, drunken bodies. Then the evening went from bad to worse.
I was arrested.
FIFTY-NINE
The next morning, I left Bernie at home because he wasn’t authorized to work with the feds. On our way to meet Joe Dawson and Eva Valdez, I told Olivia about my night.
After going over the events, I added, “The only good thing is that the officers recognized me after they detained everyone and let me go.” I rubbed my neck, still feeling the effects of being in the Club Chub riot. “Otherwise, I’d have spent the night in the drunk tank with the others.”
“So, who was the winner of last night’s performance?” Olivia asked, laughing.
“The Tinsel Town Beat Down was officially declared a draw because of the riot. I’m a little worried the performers are going to want a rematch.”
“It sounds like that could be dangerous. How much longer is Mo’s uncle going to be staying with you?”
“We’ve got that lip sync contest for charity this weekend. Once that’s over, Mo’s made it clear to Fred that he’s got to leave.”
After Olivia said that she thought that Fred going home was a good idea, we talked about the Novak case as we drove to Rancho Palos Verdes, where Anne Parker’s niece lived.
“After executing the search warrant, SID found evidence at Welch’s house that she was involved with Boyer in diverting money from Brad Novak’s accounts,” Olivia said. “It pretty much seals the deal that everything went down as we speculated.”
I agreed, then mentioned Annie Watts. “She’s the only missing piece of the puzzle. What do you think happened to her?”
Olivia glanced at me as she drove. “We know that she was in love with Novak and had gone to confront Boyer about stealing from him. He couldn’t let her talk, so she probably went away.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I’m just not sure Boyer is someone who personally was prone to violence.”
“Maybe he hired someone.”
“It’s possible. All I know for sure is that before I walk away from our case for good, for her mother’s sake, I need to know what happened to her.”
Rancho Palos Verdes was an affluent suburb of Los Angeles, on the bluffs overlooking the ocean, just north of Long Beach. Carson Parker’s daughter lived in a gated, planned community of expensive homes. After meeting up with Joe and Eva on the sidewalk, they explained what they knew about Alexis Turner.
“She’s married to an orthodontist,” Joe said. “No kids. Works from home, writing a blog about organic food and nutrition.”
“What do we know about her relationship with her father?” Olivia asked.
Eva glanced at the house, then answered. “As far as we know, Alexis and her father haven’t been in touch for years. She moved to Southern California when she enrolled in UCLA.”
“There has to be a lot of baggage, given her father’s relationship with his sister,” I said.
Joe agreed. “Let’s go see what dirty laundry’s in the carry-on.”
We hung back a few steps as Joe rang the bell. An attractive young woman, with green eyes and dark hair, came to the door. Something about her demeanor told me that she knew why we were there even before Joe showed her his credentials and briefly explained the situation.
Alexis then stepped back and opened her door, “Please, come in.”
Joe made introductions before we met on an outdoor patio that overlooked a pool and the seashore beyond. After complimenting her on her home, Eva said, “You probably know from the press coverage that your father is in custody, and his sister and her son are wanted for murder.”
Alexis nodded. “I’d hoped that Father had managed to separate himself from my aunt after all these years, but I guess some things aren’t possible.” She sighed, her milky green eyes shifting away from us. “I’m just sorry for the children at her school.”
“They’re receiving medical and psychiatric care.”
She looked back at Eva. “It’s going to take them years to recover.” She shook her head and chuckled. “Maybe you don’t ever really recover from The Realm.”
Eva glanced at us. “What can you tell us about the school?”
Alexis brushed the tears from her eyes and said, “I can tell you everything you want to know. When I was a child, I attended the school with Alexander.”
SIXTY
“Tell us about The Realm,” Eva said, her voice encouraging and compassionate.
Alexis had managed to regain her composure. “It’s Anne’s personal house of horrors for children, most of them stolen or manipulated away from their parents. Her students are drugged and brainwashed into believing Anne’s own twisted view of reality. She’s living out the Prophecy.”
Eva’s brow tightened. “The Prophecy? Can you explain what you mean?”
Alexis nodded. “Yes, but for that, you’re going to need some background. I should also warn you, the story you’re about to hear is difficult to believe.”
“We need to hear all of it, so, please, take your time.”
Alexis took a moment to fill a pitcher of water in her kitchen. After returning and filling glasses for everyone, she took a glass for herself, then began telling us about her aunt’s descent into madness.
“There’s a little-known sixteenth century playwright, a contemporary of William Shakespeare. His name is Russell Nathan Bellamy. His most famous work is called The Prophecy. The protagonist of his play is Anne, who lived in a mythical village in Northern England called The Realm.”
“And your aunt is living out this play,” Joe said, the pieces beginning to fall into place with what we knew.
“Yes, but in a very delusional way. Let me tell you about the play, and you’ll understand what I mean.”
After a sip of water, Alexis began to take us back in time to Elizabethan England. “As the story opens, Anne is abandoned by Albert, her abusive and violent husband, who leaves to fight a war in France. Deathly afraid that Albert will eventually return after the war is over, reestablish his reign, and kill her and her children, Anne leaves the village and hides the children away in a cave.
“As the story progresses, Anne goes to the cave to beseech her eldest child, Alexander, to kill his father, after hearing rumors that her husband might return. To her great sorrow, Anne learns that her son has fallen ill and died. Just when all hope seems lost, Anne prays to the gods to resurrect her child. The gods take pity on her, Alexander is restored to life, and transformed into an avenging angel, a creature of great power.
“As the years pass, Alexander learns to use his power to change his appearance. He becomes a nobleman who helps his mother eventually ascend to his father’s throne. Anne manages to keep her power only because Alexander seduces and kills the women she believes are her husband’s courtesans that he has sent to threaten her power and take over The Realm.”
Joe rubbed a hand across his jaw and took a breath, maybe trying to come to terms with what he’d heard. “You said earlier that you and Alexander attended Anne’s school as children. What can you tell us about him?”
“I can tell you that, as a child, he was drugged and brainwashed into believing in his mother’s story. He’s completely convinced that his father will someday return and he must kill him.”
“He’s as crazy as his mother.”
“Yes, but my aunt is someone with great personal power. She’s living out a delusion, and has managed to pull others, including Alexander and my own father, into believing her madness. I think of her as being like a vampire.”
“Why is that?”
“Anne literally sucks the life force out of anyone around her. She finds or creates tortured souls, then bleeds them for their last ounce of blood, including her own son.” She took a breath. “It took me years to overcome the abuse I suffered as a child. That’s why I’ve dedicated my life to helping children through the resources on my blog.”
Eva lowered her voice, maybe trying to take the edge off Joe’s gruff manner. “Do you have any idea why she chose the play, The Prophecy, and came to live out this particular fantasy?”
Alexis nodded. “When I was a teenager and managed to break away from the school, my father told me about his and Anne’s father. He was a professor of English literature who was extremely abusive. He said that he and Anne spent years locked in their house because their father was afraid someone would steal them. They spent their childhoods with books and fantasies.” Alexis brushed a tear. “According to my father, Anne obsessed over Bellamy’s plays, and, in particular, The Prophecy, completely identifying with the story.”
Olivia and I had remained quiet as Alexis spoke. We now encouraged her to tell us how the story that Anne Parker had become obsessed over ended.
“When the war in France finally ends, Albert returns to The Realm, confronts Anne, and demands that his kingdom be returned,” Alexis said. “He also demands to see his children. Anne turns to Alexander to protect her and orders him to kill his father.
“A battle for the throne ensues in the royal gardens, where the citizens have all gathered. Before the battle is waged, Anne goes to check on the other children, who have remained hidden away. She learns that the gods have given them a potion that causes a metamorphosis, turning the children into beings of light to help her keep her power.
“In an epic battle, the children use their power to light up the night sky as Alexander defeats their father. After Albert is defeated, they feed him poison and turn him into a beast. The story ends with the beast recovering and promising to retake his kingdom, even as Alexander promises to protect his mother and save the power and the glory of the kingdom known as The Realm.”
We all sat in in silence for a moment, trying to absorb what Alexis Turner had told us. On one level, Anne Parker’s obsession with the story seemed incredible, but I’d seen my share of madness over the years; suspects who believed they were in touch with spirits, gods, or demons who had ordered them to kill. Anne’s ability to manipulate others,
including her own son, into carrying out her beliefs reminded me of Charles Manson, who had convinced his followers to kill in the certainty that an apocalypse was coming in the form of a racial war he called “Helter Skelter”.
“I guess we now know why Anne drugged the children at her school,” Joe said. “She gave them a hallucinogen called The Light.”
Alexis nodded. “It took me years to recover from the drug abuse. My aunt believed the drugs would eventually turn the children into magical beings that would help save her kingdom, just like in Bellamy’s story.”
Eva spoke up again after taking a moment to process everything. “Our investigation leads us to believe that Anne’s son, Alexander, was stolen from a hospital while she was in college. Do you know anything about that?”
Alexis blinked several times, her gaze drifting off. “My father told me once that Anne was involved with a young man in college whose name was Albert.”
“Just like in the play,” Eva said.
“Yes, that might be why she became involved with him, but the relationship didn’t last. I was told that he later got another woman pregnant. Anne stole their child, claiming he was her son, but...”
When she didn’t continue, Eva said, “What is it?”
Alexis drew a breath and went on. “The child died, or maybe Anne killed him because he wasn’t her real son.”
Eva looked at us, then said to her. “If the child is dead, then who is Alexander?”
“Just like Alexander died and was resurrected by the gods in the story, it’s my belief that Anne may have killed the child and replaced him with her biological son.” Alexis took a breath and didn’t continue.
“Please go on,” Eva said, after Alexis’s thoughts seemed to have drifted off.
Alexis took a sip of water and gathered her thoughts. “After the child she had stolen died, I was told that Anne became involved with a man who was her son’s biological father. He’s the one she believes is coming for her and her son to steal their power, just like in Bellamy’s story.”