by M. Z. Kelly
I sighed. “What would we do without the news?”
“Are you up for a bite to eat? I thought I could meet you at Musso and Frank’s.”
Any other night, I wouldn’t have hesitated to eat at the iconic restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard, but I was running on fumes. “Tell you the truth, I’m pretty beat. I just want to kick off my shoes and forget about the world for a few hours.”
“Why don’t you come by my place, then? If you’re nice to me, I might even give you one of my patented massages.”
I smiled. “I can be a very nice girl. See you in a few.”
I glanced at Bernie in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Looks like you get to hang with your people for a few hours.”
Bernie’s people included the world’s largest dog, named Shaq, a couple of labs, three cats, and Pete, a sick raccoon. They were all inhabitants or patients in Noah’s home office that was on a hillside near Elysian Park in Los Angeles.
Noah met us on the front porch, then led us inside. A couple of puppies I’d never seen before immediately came over to us, wagging their tails.
“I didn’t know you had guests,” I said.
“Rescues.” He smiled and bent down to the dogs. “Meet Harry and Sally.”
I spent a couple of minutes on the floor beside him nuzzling the little dogs that looked like they were part Cocker, with maybe some beagle tossed in. I then remembered what Brie had said about possibly adopting a dog for Lily and mentioned it to Noah.
“Ideally, I’d like to find someone who would take both puppies,” he said, “but we’ll have several other dogs at this weekend’s event.” Bernie finished giving Shaq some attention and came over to do a meet and greet with Harry and Sally, as Noah added, “How is Brie doing?”
We both stood up and I exhaled. “It’s a struggle, both physically and emotionally. She’s a strong woman, but I worry about her and her daughter. Lily’s pretty wrapped up in what’s happening to her mom.”
“Maybe Lily would like to hang out here at the office for a few hours one of these days. Sometimes it’s good to get away and change your focus.”
“That would be terrific. I’ll mention it to Brie.”
Noah took my hand. “Let’s go back to the porch and open a bottle of wine.”
Noah’s house was a rambling craftsman, built around the middle of the last century, which overlooked the city. He spent most of his down time on the backyard porch. It was furnished comfortably, with several photographs on the walls of him growing up and his years in the army.
He brought over a bottle of pinot from his wine fridge. While working on the cork, he asked me if I’d settled into my new home.
“I’d better not get too settled. We’re being evicted.”
“What?”
“The residents’ council doesn’t seem to think we fit in. They drummed up some ethics code violation and hired a lawyer. He served us with notice that we have three days to move.”
“I can get Madeline involved, if you’d like. From what she told me, she’s done battle with them before.”
Madeline Dupree was the wealthy owner of the mobile homes that my friends and I were renting.
“I’ll let you know.” I rubbed my neck, feeling the tension of the day. “We have a lawyer, named Hermes Krump, who’s supposed to be working on our behalf.”
Noah smiled. “Hermes Krump. Really?”
“It’s better if you don’t ask.” I kneaded my muscles again. “I could really use that massage you offered.”
He served the wine, then had me sit on a cushion in front of him as he worked on my shoulders. After a moment, he said, “You’ve got so many knots you could give them names.”
I chuckled. “Let’s see…there’s a Darby in there…and then a Peters and a Feckle. Not to mention an Oz.”
“Your lieutenant?”
“Yeah…” He continued to work on my neck. I moaned, “Ahh…that’s the spot.”
“I thought you and your lieutenant got along pretty well.”
I realized that I hadn’t told him about the photograph of Oz and my love-dad that was taken at Jean Winslow’s party. I took a moment and filled him in on everything, adding, “To make matters worse, Ryan Cooper was also in the photo, along with Kellen Malone.”
Noah was familiar with Cooper and Malone because I’d previously mentioned them. I then remembered my discussion with Dr. Castillo. “I talked to a professor at UCLA today. She’s an expert on some issues that might be relevant to our case. She’s also an expert on cults. I mentioned the Revelation to her and, as it turns out, she knows about the group.”
“Really? What did she say?”
“Have you ever heard of a man named Harlan Ryland?”
I had the impression that Noah was thinking about my question as he continued to work on my shoulders. He took a moment before saying, “I don’t think so.”
“According to Castillo, the Revelation believed in a form of enlightenment and that they would eventually take over and change society. Ryland split off from the original founders, the Revelation pretty much dissolved, and he became the founder of the Tauist Society.”
“I’ve heard about them. Aren’t they the ones who have their members on the streets looking for converts?”
“Yes. From what I understand, they have beliefs that are similar to the Revelation. The professor told me that in the early days of Hollywood, Ryland and his group had a lot of control over the stars and the studios. She also told me that one of Ryland’s associates was Donald Regis.”
“That studio guy that you mentioned before?”
“He was the head of Wallace Studios back in the day. He supposedly committed suicide recently. Castillo said he and Ryland had some sort of falling out.”
“Did she think Ryland could have murdered him?”
“She didn’t say. I’m going to have dinner with her tomorrow night. I’m hoping to get a lot more information.” I went on to mention that my adoptive mother had recently gone to the Tauist retreat. “I don’t know if she has some knowledge about Ryland that she’s kept from me all these years, or if she just went there to get away.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
I sighed, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders finally beginning to ease. “At some point. Although dealing with my mother is about the last thing I need with all the other stress in my life.”
Noah stopped working on my shoulders and said, “Maybe you should give it a rest for a while.”
I turned my head, but still couldn’t see him, since he was sitting behind me. “What do you mean?”
I heard him take a breath and exhale. “I just think maybe you’re too close to everything and that you’re a little obsessed with what happened to your father.”
I moved away from him, turned, and looked back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just think you’re…”
“Obsessed. I heard what you said.”
His voice pitched higher. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
My brows inched together, my tone growing accusatory. “You said the word.”
“I’m just concerned about you. I think maybe you’re going a little overboard.”
“Really?” I stood up. Now my voice pitched higher. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. I’ll repeat it for you one more time, just so that you understand. I believe there’s a reason I was put on this earth and became a cop. It’s to get to the bottom of my father’s murder, once and for all.”
Noah stood up and took a step closer, trying to hug me.
“Stop,” I said, taking a step back. “I guess I didn’t make myself clear about everything when we started dating.”
“You did, but…”
“But what?”
He took another breath. “Lately, I just think that maybe it’s a little too much. It’s taken control of your life, affected your relationships. Just look at what it’s doing to us right now.”
&nb
sp; “I don’t believe this.” I got my sweater off the sofa, then turned back to him. “I’m leaving.”
He followed, trailing behind me through the house and into the living room as I got Bernie. “Kate, let’s talk.”
I snapped Bernie’s leash on his collar, then opened the door. “I have nothing to talk to you about. I’ll just go my merry way, living a life of obsession.”
I slammed the door behind me and the world dissolved into a blur of light and water. Tears were streaming down my face.
***
I got home just before nine. I was still angry over my conversation with Noah and the way we’d left things. Noah had always been supportive and understanding of my need to find my father’s killer. His change of heart had left me feeling defeated and abandoned. Maybe I’d misjudged both him and our relationship. We’d only been dating for a few weeks and, once again, I questioned whether this was another relationship I’d rushed into to make up for the losses in my life.
As I got Bernie out my car, I was feeling depressed and contemplated getting into bed and hiding out from the world. Then I heard Natalie calling out to me from her porch. “Kate! Come over for a few. Mo and me just had a pizza delivered.”
I was starving and weighed the option of sleep induced depression versus food. My stomach won the battle. A couple of minutes later, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Nana was sitting at my friends’ kitchen table.
“I saw you on TV today,” Nana said, after I’d greeted her and took a seat at the table with everyone. “Your hair looked like hell.”
While my friends lacked a certain degree of diplomacy, Nana took the word tactless to a whole other level. She’d been our landlord at one time, before she’d gotten married and her husband had dropped dead on their wedding day. He’d left Nana with about fifty million dollars and a host of angry relatives who were contesting the will.
“I think Kate just had that tussled, wind-blown look,” Natalie said.
I tugged at my wayward do. “I’m trying to grow it out again.”
“You should throw it out,” Nana said. “You looked like Norman Bates plugged into an electric socket.”
Mo, who suffered from a wig addiction and tonight sported curly purple hair, was munching on a slice of pizza. “According to the reporters, the killing of that couple was done by the same guy who whacked and posed that Day of the Dead girl.”
I now had my own pizza slice. I didn’t want to go into details and said, “That might be the case.”
“Why do you suppose he’s doing it?”
My mouth was full of pizza, and I mumbled, “Too early to say.”
“I have my own theory,” Nana said. She was working on a long string of cheese and, with her oversized dentures, she looked like an elderly shark that was trying to floss.
Mo rolled her eyes. “If this involves sex, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Nana was taking a sexual rejuvenation drug and lately had surrounded herself with a group of male friends she called her posse. Everyone else called them gigolos.
Nana went on anyway. “The guy suffered some kind of Halloween trauma when he was a kid. He’s now taking it out on everyone.”
“Halloween trauma,” Natalie said, shaking her head. “Now I heard of everything.”
Nana continued. “The same thing happened to my brother when he was little.”
“You mean he became a crazy-ass serial killer,” Mo said, with a mouth full of pizza.
“No. He was traumatized by a scary mask that I had. He ran around the house screaming bloody murder whenever he saw it.”
Natalie laughed. “You sure it was just the mask that scared him?”
Nana defended herself, but was starting to take things personally, so I changed the subject. “What’s the latest with your bucket-list party?” I knew she was planning a blow-out party that she hoped people would be talking about even after she was dead.
Nana blotted her ruby lips. “I finally got the permits. It’s going to be this coming Saturday night on Hollywood Boulevard. You’re invited, providing you don’t poop on my party.”
“Kate ain’t no pooper,” Natalie said.
“She’s got poop priors,” Nana countered. “Even though your zombie performance is all over TV promoting that Hollywood Detective show.”
Natalie had a sudden brainstorm and said to me, “Hey, maybe they should change the name of the show to Zombie Cop. You might become famous.”
“I don’t need the fame or the show,” I said.
“Tell us ‘bout your party,” Mo said to Nana. “Me and baby sis are worried it’s gonna be some kinda big orgy.”
“It better not be a senior citizen orgy,” Natalie said. “We got us enough problems with old farts right here.”
Nana stood up. “It’s going to have a Mardi Gras theme. That’s the only detail I can give you for now. In fact, I have to leave to make some arrangements. See you all later.” She glared at me. “If you show up with that doggy doctor, I expect you to participate or I’ll have you thrown out.”
I looked at Natalie and Mo after she was gone. “Participate? What does that mean?”
I got shrugs, but my friends shared a look that made me think there was something they weren’t telling me.
“You seem a little down tonight,” Natalie said, changing the subject. “What gives?”
I exhaled slowly, brushing the hair out of my eyes. “Noah and I had a disagreement.”
Mo looked at Natalie. “That’s a code word for fight.” She looked back at me. “Don’t tell me the big fish already wiggled his way off the hook, like all the others.”
Natalie’s hazel eyes widened. “Maybe Kate’s takin’ up with that cowboy again.”
Mo regarded me. “You back in the rodeo?”
“No. It’s nothing like that. Noah thinks I need to back off and stop investigating the death of my love-dad. He thinks I’ve become obsessed with it.”
“What? That’s nonsense.”
“You gotta find justice for him,” Natalie agreed.
I took a couple of minutes, telling them about my meeting with Dr. Castillo and what she’d said about the Revelation. “Apparently Harlan Ryland was involved in the group with Donald Regis. The Revelation splintered and fell apart a few years back and Ryland went on to form the Tauist Society.”
“Isn’t that the crazy group your mum became involved with?” Natalie asked.
“Yes, and now I’m wondering if she doesn’t know something about Ryland and what happened to my love-dad.”
“You gonna confront her?’ Mo asked.
“Eventually. But, I’m planning to have dinner with Dr. Castillo tomorrow night. I’m hoping she can tell me more about the group.”
Mo was working on her third slice of pizza. “Me and baby sis are gonna go by the Platinum Theater this week. See what kinda nonsense is goin’ on there.”
I remembered that I’d told them about my brother’s boyfriend working on a script for the studios. The dialogue in one of the scenes had been changed, referencing a meeting at the theater this week. We’d had suspicions that the meeting had something to do with the Revelation, but now it seemed more likely the Tauist’s were involved.
“You two be careful,” I said. “I think the people behind what’s been happening are dangerous.”
Mo had a mouthful of pizza as she said, “Like, maybe your boss.”
“You still got the Oz card,” Natalie agreed. “You need to confront him about the photograph you found of him with your love-dad and Jean Winslow.”
“I want to talk to Dr. Castillo first.” I yawned and stood up. “I think I’ll call it a day.”
“Before you go rushin’ off,” Mo said, “we all gotta meet up with Krump at the courthouse tomorrow. He’s gonna file that unlawful detainer motion.”
“What if he freaks out, starts hyperventilating?”
“Not to worry,” Natalie said. “I’m makin’ a batch of Flaming Grasshoppers. I figure we can give Krump a tail
gate party in the parking lot before he goes inside.”
“Swell,” I said. “Our lawyer’s going to appear in court drunk.”
Mo regarded me with one eye. “It’s either a drunk Krump or we live in the streets.”
TWENTY-ONE
Dr. Ellen Moore sat on her bed, trying to control the tremors in her body. She’d spent a sleepless night after her meeting with Quinton Macy. His threats to harm her children had left her with an almost paralyzing anxiety, and she’d called Brian several times to check on them. While the children were safe, she had no doubt that Macy would find a way to make good on his threat if she didn’t cooperate.
At first, Macy’s statements that he was in a symbiotic delusional relationship with Joshua Brown seemed almost impossible to believe. But then she remembered that the guard who was supposed to travel with them hadn’t come to work yesterday morning. It now seemed likely to her that Joshua was behind whatever had happened to him.
Joshua. The realization that she’d almost allowed herself to become involved in a relationship with the guard sickened her. How could she have allowed herself to compromise her position and her trust? She’d thought about confronting him about his relationship with Macy, but the prospect of doing that terrified her. If Joshua Brown was, in fact, acting in concert with her patient, he would probably be the one to make good on the threats to harm her children.
Ellen clutched her sides, trying to find the strength to deal with what lay ahead. Like dozens of times before, her mind tumbled back to last night’s conversation with her patient. Quinton Macy had not only threatened Eric and Jennifer, he’d made his demands clear to her.
“Tomorrow, after the drug is administered, I expect you will convince the staff that you will be spending the night in my room with Mr. Brown, monitoring my condition,” Macy had said.
“Halgen has their own protocol,” she’d told him. “It requires they do testing and chart your reaction to the medication.”
“You are a medical doctor, Ellen. I’m sure you can be very convincing.”