Hollywood Enemy: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by M. Z. Kelly

  ***

  I hadn’t slept well thanks to Edna’s phone call and stopped by Joe Schmoe’s on the way into the station. After ordering something called a, Rocket Roast Latte, that had an extra shot of caffeine, Tony, the barista, rewarded me with a muffin and Bernie with another chew. I thanked him for the chew and tried to pay for the muffin but he refused.

  “My treat,” Tony said. He had one of those faces that radiated kindness.

  “You’re going to spoil us.”

  “Just paying it forward.” I realized that he’d seen the badge affixed to Bernie’s collar. He added, “Thank-you for your service.”

  After the kindness and caffeine blast I was feeling a little better about things until I ran into Jessica Barlow in the Hollywood Station parking lot. Olive belched to a stop as Jessica made a beeline for me.

  “I saw the article,” she said with a smart-ass grin on her heavily made-up face. “The press is going to be stalking you worse than Ryan Cooper.”

  My eyes shot a death ray at her. “You didn’t happen to open your big mouth and talk to the reporter, did you?”

  “What?” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “Some people have more integrity and professionalism than you.”

  “That might be true,” I said, “But you sure as hell wouldn’t be one of them.” I stomped off, pulling Bernie with me into the stationhouse.

  When I got to my desk I told Charlie what had happened.

  My partner had a mouthful of a fast food breakfast sandwich, chewed, and said, “Wouldn’t surprise me if that shrew mouthed off to the reporter. She’s always looking for a way to get back at one of us.” His brows lifted and he swallowed. “Hey, maybe we should file a complaint, get IAD involved.”

  I sighed and dragged a hand through my hair. I’d fussed with it for twenty minutes this morning before giving up. I needed it trimmed and styled but I certainly wasn’t going to let the British bushwhacker near me again. “I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty hopeless about everything.”

  His fleshy face pinched into something I recognized as his concerned Daddy look. “Don’t give up, Kate. I think we’re getting closer to finding Cooper. It’s just a matter of time.”

  I glanced at the stack of paperwork on my desk that needed filing, then back at him. “I keep hearing that from Jack. Is there anything new?”

  “Jack and me are gonna canvass the neighborhood today around Cooper’s former apartment building. We’re trying to locate that girl his landlord said was hanging around. One of the neighbors also saw her and confirmed that she and Cooper were in some kind of argument.”

  “Did he know what the argument was about?”

  He shook his head. “My guess is that Cooper owed her money for something and she was trying to collect. If we can find her, we might get a lead on where he’s hiding out.”

  “Sounds like a big if.”

  He tried another pep talk but couldn’t pull it off. After popping the lid off a strawberry diet drink he mentioned reading Haley Tristan’s article.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, ending the conversation. I hadn’t read the article and knew any discussion of it would only make my blood pressure soar.

  I tried concentrating on the files on my desk, but the dread of the afternoon press conference with the chief made it impossible to focus. By late morning, I finally decided that I needed to read Tristan’s article if only to prepare myself for the conference. But I also had to admit that I was curious to find out what she knew about the case.

  I found that the article was thorough and included specific details about Ryan Cooper. It also included a timeline that went back over two decades when he’d shot and killed my father in Griffith Park and had then made threats to my adoptive mom.

  The article went on to discuss how Cooper had married my birthmother, the former actress Judie Crawford, before disappearing and then resurfacing recently with Judie ending up in a convalescent hospital. It included references to Cooper using the pseudonym Shumi Duvall, courting my adoptive mom, and making threats to me. The one thing the article lacked was a motive for Cooper’s crimes. Even before I’d finished reading the article I was livid.

  “God damn it,” I said, pushing the paper aside. Charlie was coming back from the break room with a plate of spaghetti and asked me what was wrong.

  “What’s wrong is the fucking article about my father includes details that Tristan only could have gotten from someone close to the case. It also makes my mother look like a fool for being duped by the con man. When she reads this she’s going to be so upset.”

  I picked up the paper again. Charlie mumbled his support while slurping up his spaghetti. By the time I’d finished the article, which went on to discuss the murder of Olivia Halstead in Seattle, I was furious.

  I looked over at my partner. “Her source has to be someone with the department.”

  He blotted his mouth, having already wolfed down the meal. “Maybe it’s Jessica, like we said before. She can’t be trusted.”

  “I don’t think so. There’s a lot of detail here.” I wadded up the paper, stuffed it in my trashcan. “I think Tristan’s got somebody on the inside again.” The nosey reporter had used an associate to sleep with a detective involved in a prior case that I’d worked on to get the inside story. I wouldn’t be surprised if history was repeating itself.

  “Maybe you should talk to the chief about it this afternoon,” Charlie suggested. “If someone’s talking they need to be held accountable.”

  I pulled my handbag over my shoulder and tugged on Bernie’s leash, bringing him up off the floor. “I’m sure the guy who sent me into the path of a tornado chasing a serial killer is going to be real sympathetic to anything I have to say.”

  ***

  I grabbed a sandwich on my way into the Police Administration Building in downtown Los Angeles. The PAB is a multi-million dollar high rise that was built in 2009 to replace the old Parker Center headquarters. The complex featured a reflection garden and memorial monument honoring the badges of officers killed in the line of duty. My father’s badge hadn’t been included in the display because, according to police administration, his unsolved homicide had occurred off duty. Even with what we now knew about Ryan Cooper murdering my father, that oversight still hadn’t been corrected, something that tore me up with anger every time I thought about it.

  I found Lieutenant Edna waiting for me at the department’s Media Relations Section or MRS. He was dressed in a dark suit that I knew he reserved for special occasions. I’d chosen a dark pantsuit and my best Ann Taylor blazer, but with my hair disaster and it being my time of the month I dreaded being on camera during the news conference. As we waited I felt like a bloated schoolgirl who’d been sent to the principal’s office.

  “Saw the fucking news vans out front when I pulled up,” Edna quietly said to me. “It’s a god-damned media circus out there.”

  “Yeah and I’m the star performer.”

  After a short wait Commander Rob Nelson greeted us. We spent a couple of minutes making small talk. Nelson was in his late fifties with a shaved head, gray eyes, and the thin build of a runner. He had one of those deep voices that played well when you had a microphone stuck in your face.

  “The chief’s going to meet us downstairs in the auditorium,” Nelson said as we headed for the elevator. Bernie, as always, got lots of attention and comments as we walked down the hallway. “We’re expecting a pretty big gathering,” the commander added. “Your role is to just be there for support. The chief should handle most of the questions.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said. As the elevator doors opened I mentioned Tristan’s article. “There was a lot of detail, specific information about events. Any thoughts about her source?”

  Nelson regarded me as the elevator descended, his gray eyes holding on me for a moment. “I’ve been at this business a long time, Detective. The only thing that still surprises me is how the press seems to know about our business,
almost before we do. It’s impossible to know who the source was. Most of the time we just do our best at damage control and try to be reassuring that we’re actively working cases.”

  I understood what Nelson was saying. It was classic bureaucrat-speak that meant they didn’t care about the leak. All they cared about was appeasing the press and giving the appearance that they were on top of the case when the truth was they had no idea where or when Cooper would strike again.

  My stomach twisted into knots as we got off the elevator. Five minutes later when we entered the auditorium and I saw what must have been over a hundred reporters all turn in my direction, I felt the bile in my throat rising. Edna and I shook hands with Chief East when we got to the stage. We then took our places with a small army of command staff on parade for the media circus, including Commander Sherry Miles.

  Even before the conference began, I saw Haley Tristan in the front row. She looked like she’d gotten a make-over since I’d last seen her. The reporter now had platinum blonde hair and wore a low cut black silk blouse that displayed breasts that were large and round and full of silicone. She nodded at me as the chief began. I looked away from her, pretending not to notice.

  “Thank-you all for being here today,” East said in a voice that reminded me of a preacher I’d once heard as a child. The chief was a big man but far from handsome. As I watched him addressing the media I remembered that a couple of my coworkers said there was something about East that was reminiscent of a goat. I had to admit they were onto something.

  “I’m going to give you a brief summary of the manhunt for Ryan Cooper,” East began. “After that I’ll be available for questions.”

  The chief acknowledged the lieutenant and me, assuring the press that everything possible was being done to bring my father’s killer to justice. He then summarized the case, hitting the same highlights that Haley Tristan had mentioned in her article. I thought he did a good job of summarizing everything before the questions began. One of the reporters asked what the department was doing to offer protection for me.

  “Today, I’m assigning twenty-four hour armed security to Detective Sexton. That protection will continue until our suspect is apprehended.”

  It was the first I’d heard about getting protection and it further flattened my already deflated spirits. The last thing I needed was Charlie or Jack or someone else following me around all day.

  Another reporter asked about my mother’s condition after Cooper’s attack. The chief surprised me by asking if I’d give them a brief update.

  I stepped up to the microphone and tried to control my nerves. “She’s doing as well as can be expected. She suffered a concussion during the assault and is living in another area for the time being. I expect that she’ll eventually make a full recovery.”

  I took my place back with the command staff. A couple of follow-up questions were asked that were fielded by East. Then Haley Tristan stood and directed her question at me. “Detective Sexton, isn’t it true that the reason Ryan Cooper killed your father and is now targeting you is because your father had an affair with his girlfriend that resulted in your birth. Isn’t the motive for these crimes really just a matter of revenge for your father’s infidelity?”

  The chief started to respond but saw me step forward. We made eye contact and I nodded at him, a signal that I wanted to answer. I took a moment at the microphone, taking a breath and trying to control thoughts about pulling out my gun and capping off a couple of rounds into Tristan’s head.

  I locked eyes with the reporter who had an idiotic smirk on her face. “What you just said is untrue and intentionally insulting to myself, my family, and the memory of my father.” I glanced over at East who looked pale, maybe even a little wobbly. “My father was involved with Judie Crawford well before he met my adoptive mother. There was no deception and no infidelity. What we have here is a psychopathic killer who must be stopped and a reporter who is making that infinitely more difficult by both her reporting and her false and inflammatory accusations.”

  What followed was an angry outburst by Tristan, defending her article and again questioning my father’s fidelity. Rob Nelson, the MRS commander, came to my side maybe in an attempt to physically restrain me if tried to speak again, as Chief East did his best to do damage control. He told Tristan and the other reporters that losing a father and being stalked by his killer was taking its toll on all parties involved. There was a flurry of other questions that he answered with typical media-speak before the conference finally, mercifully, ended.

  We all left the news conference together. Before getting into the elevator with his small platoon of command staff, Chief East stopped and said to me, “That was one giant cluster fuck, Detective.”

  I looked into the face of a goat and said, “I agree. And now I know what it’s like to be screwed in public.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  After the news conference, Chief East made good on his promise of providing me with twenty-four hour protection. My armed guards were two cops who worked in twelve hour shifts. A big guy named Arnold Murphy, who had the personality of Mount Rushmore, took the night shift, stationing himself on the street in front of my house.

  The next morning Bernie and I met my daytime protector, Lacy Grover, at the front door. I’d met the detective once before at a training session and knew that she normally worked out of the Hollenbeck Division.

  “You got some kind of leftover Halloween decorations,” Grover asked, pointing at the black netting that had captured and slimed me a few weeks earlier. My assigned protector was about five-six, heavyset, with short brown hair and blue eyes. She wore a wrinkled pantsuit.

  “It’s a long story,” I said, referencing Tex’s security device. “I’ll introduce you to my roommates one of these days, then you’ll understand.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her manner was direct and unpretentious, something I welcomed after spending yesterday with the department’s command staff.

  “They’re what you might call different, a little on the oddball side.”

  “Sounds like my family.” We got to my car. She gave Olive a once over and turned to me. “Really?”

  “Long story involving an ex and bad credit.”

  She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “Been there. No need to explain.”

  As we drove to the station I asked about her background. “Divorced. No kids. Transferred from Detroit about five years ago. Don’t miss the winters. I live alone.” She reached back and gave Bernie a stroke. “Except for a lab named Sam.” She looked at me, her round face smiling. “Just me, Sam, pizza, and a vibrator. Everything a girl needs.”

  I laughed. “Can’t say that I disagree.”

  I then took a couple of minutes, giving her my background. When I mentioned that I was dating Jack, I thought about last night’s conversation with him. He’d wanted me to come over, but I explained about my assigned protection and decided to stay home. The conversation ended shortly after that and I knew he wasn’t happy with me.

  “So what’s the real story on this Cooper nutball?” Lacy asked after I gave her the abridged version of my life story. “I saw part of the press conference on the news last night. Nice work with that reporter, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” I filled her in, going over the entire story before we arrived at the station. As we parked I said, “Someone’s talking to the press about the case so keep your ear to the ground and let me know if you hear anything.”

  “You can count on me, Kate—okay if I call you Kate?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “But I don’t got any sources, contacts, or anybody in high places. I’m just a grunt doing the best I can.”

  I smiled over at her. “I like that.” I reached over and shook her hand. “Kate’s fine with me. Lacy?”

  “You got it sister.”

  I spent the morning at Paperwork Mountain, sorting and filing until I was cross-eyed. The only consolation I had in what, so far, was an otherwise dismal day, i
s that I’d taken the time that morning to do what I could with my hair. Knowing that I would be deskbound all day, I’d also put on a dark blue Donna Karan knit skirt and matching jersey blouse, an outfit I sprang for when I got a small insurance settlement after a fire at my previous apartment. I seldom got the opportunity to dress up at work and decided to take advantage of a bad situation.

  Lacy was kind enough to help me with the paperwork, telling me that if she didn’t keep busy the day would be longer than a Detroit winter. I found her to be a hard worker with an easy going personality, something that I seldom saw in a line of work where inflated egos too often got in the way of the job.

  Lieutenant Edna came by to check on us, said hello to Lacy, and mentioned that Charlie was at Homicide Special with Jack and John Duncan. “They’re meeting with some of the command staff. The Beast isn’t happy about the way the news conference went and wants action on Cooper.”

  “I’m not happy about it either.” I changed the subject. “I’d like to do some follow-up on the FBI case this afternoon and go over my files again, if that’s okay.”

  “Suit yourself.” He motioned to Lacy. “Just be sure she’s with you all the time.”

  I turned to Lacy who lifted her brows, then turned back to Edna. “Thanks, that way we’re both targets.”

  I spent the afternoon pouring over the FBI’s files one more time. I decided to include Lacy because she offered to help review the reports and I thought a fresh set of eyes might provide insight into something that might have been missed. She said that she was happy to help out until she began reading the files.

  “This is one sick motherfucker.” Lacy’s face twisted up like she’d tasted a lemon. “And you think he’s coming back to Hollywood?”

  “Yes, but for now, don’t say anything. When my superiors find out I doubt they’re going to continue to let me work the case.”