Hollywood Lust

by M. Z. Kelly

  After giving her a moment, Leo tempered his deep voice and asked, “Was Carla ever at a place called Bernstein Studios? It’s near Hollywood.”

  Hodge shook her head. “Not that I know of. Why are you asking that?”

  Leo glanced at me before saying, “A man named Bruce Reeder was killed ten years ago. He worked at Bernstein Studios. Does his name sound familiar to you?”

  She shook her head. “I still don’t understand your questions.”

  Leo lowered his voice further. “He was killed by the same weapon that was used on Carla.”

  Hodge stared at him, processing what he’d said. “You think the same man that killed her also killed this man you mentioned?”

  “It’s possible. We’re still trying to piece things together.”

  She looked away and sighed. “None of this makes any sense. Carla was about the most harmless person you could ever meet.” Her watery eyes found us. “Who would want to kill her?”

  I reached over and touched her hand. “I don’t know, but I promise you we’re going to find out.”

  EIGHT

  We talked on the street for a moment after leaving Carla Hodge’s apartment. I said to Leo, “Not much to go on, really.”

  He rubbed a big paw over his shaved head and smiled. “Maybe, maybe not. At least we know your secretary was probably right about her sexual orientation.”

  “You think she could have been involved with someone that her mother didn’t know about who turned against her?” Selfie asked him.

  Leo shrugged. “Hard to say at this point. Why don’t you and…” He turned to me. “Your secretary?” I told him her name. “…you and Molly take a look at everyone she ever knew, going back to middle school. You never know what you might turn up.”

  After Selfie said they would make it a priority, I said to Leo, “Why don’t we plan on going by R&I in the morning, also talk to the coroner on Hodge. Maybe we can also track down Bruce Reeder’s ex-wife. Can you meet us at Section One?”

  “See you in Hollywood.”

  ***

  I was on my way home when I got a call from Natalie. “Me and Mo got us that security gig at the museum I mentioned the other day. Do you think you could stop by and give us your take on the caper?”

  I remembered her mentioning there had been a theft of artifacts from the Hollywood Movie Museum and that she and Mo had been hired to work security there. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to flop down on the sofa and forget about my day, but then I thought about all the times my friends had helped me out.

  “It’s on my way home,” I said. “Bernie and I can be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Meet you out front with Chewbacca,” Natalie said before ending the call.

  I had no idea what she meant about the Star Wars figure, but I did know from having lived in Hollywood my entire life that the museum was a repository of movie props, costumes, and memorabilia, going back to the early days of the film industry. I’d toured the place when I was in elementary school and knew it was located in a converted movie theater built in the early days of Hollywood.

  As I pulled up in front of the museum, I saw that the establishment’s name was on the marquee in front of the art deco building. Natalie and Mo were standing in the forecourt where replica stars from the Walk of Fame were embedded. Standing between my friends was a large subject who was wearing a Chewbacca costume.

  “Nice company you’re keeping,” I said, coming over to them with Bernie.

  “Glad you could make it,” Mo said.

  Natalie left her hairy companion for another hairy companion—Bernie. As usual, she gave my big dog lots of attention. Chewbacca, maybe upset that he’d been upstaged, disappeared back into the museum.

  Mo went on, “The owners think the thieves could strike again and we wanted your take on how they might be getting in.”

  “I’m glad to help out,” I said, noticing the glass cases with antique movie posters on the walls surrounding the ticket booth. The place felt like I’d gone back in time to a movie theater from the 1940s.

  “We got us our own personal tour guide,” Natalie said, waving a hand and turning toward the entrance.

  I saw there was an elderly woman waddling out of the museum. She was less than five feet tall, with short gray hair that she wore in a bun. For a moment, I thought she might be Nana, but she looked even older than our former landlord, if that was possible.

  “This here is Gladys,” Natalie said, introducing the woman. “She’s the original owner of the museum.”

  We exchanged hellos before Gladys demonstrated she could swear like a sailor, telling me what she had planned for the thieves who broke into her place. “When you catch the fuckers who stole my stuff, I’m gonna string them up by their balls and rip their hearts out.”

  Mo said, “Gladys don’t take no shit. I like her attitude.”

  It was obvious that Mo and Gladys had a lot in common.

  I said to the elderly museum owner, “Why don’t you show us around? Maybe we can figure out how they got in.”

  Gladys ambled back toward the museum entrance. “I hope you brought your gun. I want you to shoot the bastards when we find them.” She waved a hand and we followed her inside.

  Bernie and I spent the next half hour wandering around the public portion of the museum with our tour guide and my friends. The one-time theater housed exhibits with memorabilia and information about all the major stars.

  Gladys explained how the museum got its start. “I started collecting movie posters when I was just a kid. Back then, after they filmed a movie, they either threw stuff out, or just gave it away. I started hanging around the back lots of the studios and got a lot of stuff for free. It eventually turned into all this.” Her brown eyes drifted up, taking in the displays. “Not bad for an old woman who didn’t have a pot to piss in when she was younger.”

  “I’d say you’ve done very well for yourself,” I said, at the same time hearing Natalie calling over to us.

  We went over and saw there was an exhibit that offered a virtual display of how you would look if you had Marilyn Monroe’s hair and body. Natalie couldn’t resist the opportunity, and we watched as her face was superimposed over the actress’s features on a movie screen.

  “I think maybe I’m a natural Marilyn look-alike,” she said.

  There was some resemblance to the movie star. “I agree, but I think you’re much better looking.”

  “You’ve got a lot of potential,” Gladys told her. “I might even let you try on a couple of Marilyn’s dresses one of these days.”

  Natalie clapped her hands. “Hope you got that one from The Seven Year Itch. We can use a fan and blow air up me privates.”

  Gladys’s wrinkled face became even more pinched. I had the impression that she didn’t know what to think about Natalie.

  Mo couldn’t resist borrowing the title of one of the actress’s old movies. “Some like it hot, baby sis. But you like it boiling over.”

  Natalie turned to me. “Why don’t you give it a go, Kate? I always wondered what you’d look like as a blonde.”

  “I don’t think the world is ready for that.”

  Mo put her hands on her wide hips and eyeballed me. “You need to loosen up. What you got to lose, anyway?”

  I sighed and caved into their pressure. In a moment I was staring at my face as Marilyn on the movie screen and said, “I look ridiculous.”

  Mo made a humming sound that was full of disapproval and then said, “Guess some people just don’t fit the Marilyn mold.”

  “I think it’s her hair,” Natalie offered. She regarded me. “We’re used to your hair being…sorta on the wild side.”

  I hit a switch, killing the wannabe Marilyn image. Even though my brother had recently worked on my hair, it sometimes had its own zip code. I made a mental note to make another appointment at Robin’s salon.

  “Let’s take a look at the storage room,” Mo said, turning to Gladys. “That’s where the
stuff was stolen the other night.”

  Gladys led the way, and in a moment we were in a massive storage room full of shelves and memorabilia. Movie props, posters, costumes, and an assortment of odds and ends were stacked to the rafters. There was even a robot standing in a corner that Natalie went over to and hammed it up with, saying, “Take me to your leader.”

  “The fucking thieves stole the stuff from over here,” Gladys said, motioning us over to a corner of the room.

  We saw there was an antique dressing table with drawers overflowing with jewelry.

  “They didn’t touch the costume jewelry but took a brooch that was worn in the movie Diamond Jim. It was worth a damned fortune.”

  While Natalie and Mo commented on the mounds of jewelry, I glanced around the storage room. I said to Gladys, “Do you have security cameras?”

  She shook her head. “Too busy keeping things going on the main floor. I should have put them in years ago.”

  “How many exits are there from the main building ?”

  “Just two. They have to open from the inside due to the fucking fire regulations, but they’re always locked from the outside.”

  She led me over to the exits where we tested them and found, just as she’d said, they opened from the inside but were securely locked from the outside. After walking through the building with Bernie a final time, I gave my friends and Gladys my best guess as to what happened.

  “There’s no way into the building unless someone is allowed in. That means that an exit door was left open, or it was purposely opened by someone on the inside of the building.”

  “What are you saying?” The elderly woman said.

  “I’m saying this was an inside job. Somebody who works here either stole your property or let someone inside after hours who took it. They also knew enough about your jewelry to take something of great value.”

  Gladys shook her head and sighed. “You’re probably right. Most of my employees have worked here for years. I’ve even got a cousin on my staff. I’ll have to do some thinking about which one of the fuckers might have done it.”

  We were on our way out of the storage room when I passed a shelf with a photograph that caught my eye. It was a group picture taken in front of Bernstein Studios. I stopped, picked up the photo, and asked Gladys about it.

  “I think it was taken just after the big war. Every year the studio has all their employees get together for a group shot at the front gate.”

  “Do you happen to know if they still take the photos?”

  She nodded. “I think so. It’s a tradition. Lou Bernstein inherited the place from his father a few years back. You might check with him.”

  I followed Gladys back into the main portion of the museum with my friends. I knew it was a long shot, but it occurred to me that the person who murdered Bruce Reeder could have worked at Bernstein Studios with him at one time. If that was the case, there just might be a photograph of our killer hanging on the wall of the studio.

  NINE

  I got a decent night’s sleep for a change and got to the station on time. My spirits sank when I saw that my new partner had settled into the desk across from mine. The work station had been vacant since my former partner Ted Grady had committed suicide. I preferred the solitude, and finding Alex Hardy at the desk of one of the best detectives I’d ever worked with irritated the hell out of me.

  “So how did things go with the vic’s mother?” Alex asked me after I’d settled in and said hello.

  “We didn’t get much that was new, other than learning her daughter was suffering from anorexia. She also said that Carla might have been attracted to other women, but she wasn’t sure. I think our victim was pretty much of a recluse because of her disease.”

  My partner levelled his dark eyes on me. “I knew it would be a waste of time. You need to follow my lead on this investigation and stay away from the beast.”

  I turned, seeing that our new partner was in the hallway. I lowered my voice. “His name is Leo and I’ll investigate this case as I see fit.”

  Alex glowered at me. “Then I’m going to make an issue of it at this morning’s meeting with the lieutenant.”

  My pudgy partner wasted no time in making good on his threat after we all gathered in Oz’s office with Selfie and Molly.

  “These cases are already going sideways because of a lack of direction,” Alex said. He motioned to me and Leo. The cold case detective was impeccably dressed in a dark suit and had his ever-present smile. “These two insist on going off on tangents, not working the facts, and not following my lead.”

  “Those tangents gave us some additional information on Carla Hodge.” I took a moment and filled Oz in on what we’d learned.

  “So the girl was skinny and might have been gay, so what?”

  “What the hell do you mean by that? In case you haven’t heard, anorexia is a serious disease.”

  “Maybe so, but it has no bearing on our case.”

  “It’s a fact that we uncovered, so it’s worth mentioning and following up on, if warranted.”

  “Enough,” Oz said, raising his voice loud enough that Bernie raised his head from the corner of the room where he was resting. The lieutenant turned to Leo. “What’s your take on who should have the lead?”

  “Reeder has been mine for the past few years…”

  Alex cut him off. “You’re nothing but a guest here.”

  I broke in, “He’s part of our team, not a guest.”

  Leo went on, still smiling. “I’d like to keep Reeder.” His dark eyes swept over to Alex and me. “That said, I don’t see why we can’t all come to a mutual agreement and work these cases together.”

  “I’ve got seniority in Section One,” Alex said. “I want the lead.”

  Oz thumped the table with his hand, like a judge lowering his gavel. “That’s all. We work these cases together. No one person dictates how we proceed. This is about victims, not egos. We reach a consensus and work Reeder and Hodge just like any other cases. ” His gaze swept over all three of us. “Understood?”

  After another feeble protest, Alex gave up and we moved on, Leo and I recapping what we’d learned yesterday. I then mentioned what I’d seen at the Hollywood Movie Museum.

  “Bernstein Studios had a tradition of taking a group photo every year with all their employees. Maybe Bruce Reeder had a disagreement with one of the employees he worked with and our suspect is in a photograph with our victim.”

  “That’s one hell of a leap,” Alex said. “We’ve got nothing that shows Reeder had a dispute with a coworker.”

  “We have nothing that shows nothing. The case has been cold for years.”

  “I think it’s worth a shot,” Leo said. “What’s that old song about nothing from nothing leaves nothing? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a something.”

  Alex huffed out a breath. “What the hell is that gibberish supposed to mean?”

  Leo just smiled, while Alex went on a rant about me wasting everyone’s time again. After it was over, our new partner said to him, “I’ve never seen a guy whose time was so valuable.”

  Alex turned red. I had a thought that he was so angry that he couldn’t make his vocal cords work. While he was suffering rage paralysis, Oz overruled him. “Let’s go by and see what they’ve got at the studio. We’ve got nothing to lose.”

  I said, “We also plan to talk to the coroner on Hodge today, talk to Reeder’s ex, and go by R&I for background on the chain of custody with the knife.”

  Oz turned to Selfie and Molly. “Anything new on your side of things?”

  Selfie, who this morning had on a pair of yellow glasses that matched her hair, told Oz, “We have a list of people that knew Reeder at the time he was killed. There’s a couple of studio people and a guy named Jason Quail. He was Reeder’s best friend. The original detectives assigned to the case questioned him, but didn’t come up with anything.”

  “Did you talk to Quail when it came to your unit?” Oz asked Leo.
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  A nod. “He and Reeder were lovers at one time but the affair fizzled. They remained friends. I don’t think there was any real animosity between them but he’s worth taking another look at.”

  Selfie handed me the list of the names they’d worked up as Molly said, “We ran a record check on Carla’s boyfriend, Jimmy Pulido. He’s clean but still lives in the area. I’ve got his DMV printout with his current address.”

  I added the paperwork to my stack, stood up, and said, “It looks like a busy day ahead.”

  ***

  Despite the lieutenant’s directive that we reach a consensus and work both cases together, Alex insisted that going to Bernstein Studios was a total waste of time. He agreed to let Leo and me go alone and then meet us at R&I in the afternoon. As he drove, Leo asked me what I knew about the studio.

  “From what I understand, it’s been in decline in recent years. I think they rent space out to a lot of independent companies. It’s a pretty competitive business and lots of the big budget productions have moved to other states.”

  “That’s kind of what I thought. My daughter did some acting a few years back and they ended up shooting a lot of the scenes in Seattle.”

  I glanced at him. “Was she in a TV show?”

  “One of those made-for-TV movies that were popular about twenty years ago. She got out of the business, said it was too crazy for her. She’s now a teacher.” He beamed a smile at me. “I heard you’ve got some acting chops of your own.”

  I sighed, thinking how the news of my role as a Hollywood madam had probably made the rounds of every division. “I lost a stupid bet with my friends and paid the price. I’ll probably never hear the end of it.”

  He laughed. “It could be worse. I once wore a dress and danced in a chorus line.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  He shook his head. “I played semi-pro football for a couple of years after college. A friend said it would be a good way for us to meet some girls who were part of the production.” His eyes brightened. “He was right—met my wife there, but I’ve had to spend the last thirty-three years being reminded of it.”