by M. Z. Kelly
On the way out of the station I met with a couple of officers about Lindsay doing a ride along and spending some time at the front desk. I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of having my little sister at the station, but knew I had to keep my promise.
“Adam Lexington has a reoccurring role on the TV show Summer Session,” Gluck said, as we slogged through the rain up into the Hollywood Hills. I glanced over at Pearl who was driving. He met my eyes but said nothing. From the backseat my new partner added, “I’m just saying it for information purposes, nothing more.”
An idea had come to mind as Gluck tried to explain away what he’d said. I turned to him while Bernie sniffed the air from the partially open window next to him. “I’m going to let you handle this.”
“I’m not sure what you mean?”
“Talking to Lexington and explaining that we need to find Marcel Frost. This is your show.”
Gluck nodded. “I can handle it.”
We found the actor’s house in Brentwood, overlooking the city on what looked like an acre of land. It was one of those modern structures that reminded me more of a fire station than a house. Pearl and I hung back, but tried to stay out of the rain as Gluck rang the bell.
It took several minutes before a woman answered the door. After explaining why we were there, she told us to wait on the step for Lexington and closed the door. The actor appeared a few minutes later wearing a bathrobe and snarling at Gluck. “What the hell is this about?”
My partner showed the actor his credentials. “We’re here because we have reason to believe Marcel Frost is living with you. We need to speak to him.”
“What about?”
If Gluck was star struck he didn’t show it. “It’s a police matter. I can’t go into details.”
“Then I can’t help you.” Lexington stepped back and started to close the door.
My partner blocked the door with his foot and leaned over to the angry actor. “That’s not acceptable.”
“I don’t care…”
Gluck cut him off. “And I don’t care if you don’t care. I do care about you impeding a murder investigation.”
“Murder?”
As he said the word we all heard a garage door opening, an engine starting. Seconds later tires squealed as a Porsche accelerated down the driveway and skidded into the rain slick street. It was gone before we had a chance to react. Pearl said he would call dispatch and see if they had a patrol unit in the area.
“I’m assuming that was Frost,” Gluck said to Lexington.
“He’s been staying in the guesthouse attached to the garage.” The bluster had gone out of the actor.
My partner huffed out a breath. “Thanks for nothing, asshole.” He handed Lexington his card. “If you see him, call me immediately. If he comes back here and you don’t call I’ll be back with an arrest warrant—for you.”
“For what?”
“Harboring a fugitive.” Gluck stomped off with me
When we got to the car I smiled at him and said, “Nice work, Harvey.” Pearl echoed my comments.
Gluck’s face flushed. “It’s just a matter of playing a role. All the world’s a stage.” He smiled. “Just kidding.”
***
Jerry King was being housed at the Inmate Reception Center in downtown Los Angeles pending arraignment for the murder of Jiggy Biggs. Carl Hammer was waiting for me when I arrived in the administration wing of the building after dropping off Bernie at the station. I’d arranged for Lindsay to observe the duties at the front desk and she’d agreed to keep an eye on him.
“Just so you know, I still think King’s good for the murder,” Hammer said, wasting no time telling me where he stood.
“He was at the hotel with Wayland when Biggs was shot. We reviewed the security tapes.”
“Maybe your coroner buddy got the time of death wrong.”
I was about to tell him he was full of shit when I saw Preston Shepherd walking in our direction. King’s attorney was a fixture in the L.A. courts, representing several high profile cases. He was a big shark in L.A.’s choppy criminal waters who I knew charged hefty fees for his services. I wondered how Jerry King could afford him, given that he was heavily in debt.
After introductions, Shepherd said, “I don’t know what this interview is about, but I’m not going to let my client say anything without my approval.” The attorney was about six feet, heavy set, probably in his late forties. His hair was coal black, thanks to a recent dye job. If sleaze had a first name it would be Preston.
“Understood,” I said. “There’s some information that’s recently come to light we’d like to discuss with him. You might find it’s in his best interests to talk to us.”
Shepherd smiled, revealing his yellow shark teeth. “We’ll see about that.”
We interviewed King in a small room adjacent to his housing unit. The jail was noisy and crowded and I was relieved when we shut the door, drowning out the roar of the other inmates. From somewhere overhead a heating unit pumped air into the room. With the door closed I knew the room was going to get hot before our interview was over.
The realtor looked tired and dejected in his orange jumpsuit. I wasted no time getting right to the point. “We’ve recently determined that you were at the Alibar Hotel on the day Jiggy Biggs was murdered.”
“Wait,” Preston Shepherd said, grabbing King’s arm. His dead blue eyes fixed on me. “What makes you think my client was at the hotel?”
“We received information from a confidential source and reviewed the Alibar’s security tapes. A subject who looks remarkably like Mr. King was seen arriving just after noon and leaving around seven.”
Shepherd looked at his client and gave a slight nod of his head.
“Yes,” King said. “I was there.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that before?”
“Based on what you just said,” Shepherd interrupted, not letting King answer. “My client now has a solid alibi during the time Mr. Biggs was murdered. I demand that he be released immediately.”
I ignored the attorney and looked at King. “You were meeting with Rafi Wayland, arranging a drug deal. That’s why you didn’t say anything.”
“This is ridiculous,” Shepherd said. “And who is Rafi Wayland?”
Hammer finally spoke up, taking my side. “You really want to play this like that? Everyone knows who Wayland is.”
The shark smiled. “I think what we have here is a big bunch of nothing except an air tight alibi. I want Mr. King released.”
“What we have here,” I said. “Is a subject who was supplying drugs to Rafi Wayland, thanks to Dr. Nolan Cruise and probably a half-dozen other pill-pushing doctors.”
“That’s pure speculation, absolute nonsense. You can’t prove a word of what you’re saying.”
I blew out a long breath and regarded Preston Shepherd. The sleazy attorney was right, we didn’t have any proof King was dealing drugs. A thorough investigation into the allegation would likely take days, if not weeks.
The air in the interview room was stale and hot. I decided to play the only card I came with. “Suppose we drop the murder charges and your client is released. How long do you think it will take Rafi Wayland to put two and two together, figure out that your client burned him for his own alibi.” I glanced at King who was nodding. “I would say the safest way to play this is to admit the truth and I’ll talk to the DA about protection.”
Shepherd folded his hands, looked at King, then back at me. “Give us ten minutes to talk.”
Hammer and I waited in a hallway outside the quad where King was housed. He surprised me by saying, “You weren’t too bad in there.”
I exhaled. “Thanks, I guess.”
“So my take is that King and Biggs were both involved in dealing drugs to Wayland. Biggs needed to pay off his gambling debts since King wasn’t coming through with what he owed him. King went to Wayland and said Biggs had double crossed him and the drug boss took out Biggs. It ended the debt King owed and at th
e same time put him in the driver’s seat in providing drugs to Wayland.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “A few minutes ago you said you still thought King murdered Biggs.”
“Maybe he did. I’m just spinning scenarios.”
“Maybe there are other possibilities. It could also be that there were some issues between Biggs and Wayland from the old days when Biggs was into the hip hop scene. Wayland finally had enough and killed Biggs.” I then thought about Biggs being a player. “There’s also the possibility that one of the women Biggs was involved with had enough of his cheating and killed him.” I smiled. “I’m just spinning scenarios.”
We went on for a few minutes, speculating about what happened until we got a message from the corrections officer that King and Shepherd were ready for us. I gulped in a couple of breaths before returning to the cramped little room. We took seats across from King and Shepherd, waiting for the big shark to open his mouth.
“Talk to the DA,” Shepherd said, his lips turning up in a smirk. “My client wants both immunity from any possible prosecution and protection. In return you’ll both get credit for taking down Rafi “The Righteous” Wayland.”
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
After leaving the Inmate Reception Center I had dinner with Brie Henner at Off Vine in the heart of Hollywood. The restaurant was located in a turn-of-the-century craftsman bungalow. It was known for its great food and atmosphere.
The rain had finally let up, but it was chilly so we took seats inside, near the fireplace. I’d called my sister earlier and she’d agreed to take Bernie home with her.
Over drinks, while we waited for our food, I told Brie about our meeting with Jerry King and his attorney, summarizing what we thought we knew about his relationship with Rafi Wayland.
“Do you think the DA will offer him immunity?” Brie asked, after hearing about King spending the afternoon Biggs died with the drug dealer. My beautiful friend’s chocolate eyes glowed, reflecting the flames from the fireplace.
I sipped my wine, set the glass down. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to have dinner tonight. Lieutenant Edna wants to know if there was any possible window of opportunity for King to have murdered Biggs. We know that on the day Biggs died, King arrived at the Alibar hotel around noon. He didn’t leave until seven when he met Natalie and Mo but that still leaves the morning. Do you think there’s any chance King could have murdered Biggs before meeting Wayland at the hotel?”
Brie set her wineglass down, brushed the hair from her eyes. “When we found Biggs’ body, rigor had set in. But the fact that he was in a hot tub influenced his core body temperature readings so those results aren’t reliable regarding the time of death. We do know that Biggs had an early lunch that morning at a restaurant not too far from his home. There was some digestion of the stomach contents indicating he would have eaten three to four hours before he died. A conservative estimate would place the TOD sometime between two and six that day.”
“Then that would seem to rule King out as being the shooter.”
“I’m reasonably confident that the timeframe for Biggs’ death is accurate and that would exclude Jerry King. But, as you know, forensics is not an exact science.”
“I hope that’s enough for the DA to grant him immunity. It’s the only way we’re going to take down Rafi Wayland.”
“I’ve heard Wayland’s name before.”
“He’s the leader of Blood Nation. We think King’s going to burn him if he’s granted immunity, saying that Wayland’s behind most of the drug trafficking in Hollywood.
“That doesn’t sound good for Jerry King if he’s released.”
“That’s why he wants protection. If he’s granted immunity we’re going to have to get the feds involved and have them put him in a witness protection program.”
I sipped the last of my wine as our food arrived. After the server left Brie asked, “Do you think Wayland could be behind Biggs’ murder?”
“It’s a possibility. We know that Biggs was desperate for money to pay off his gambling debts. We also know that both Biggs and King were involved with a local doctor who wrote enormous amounts of script for prescription drugs. His name is Nolan Cruise.”
“I’ve heard about him. He’s nothing but a drug pusher with a medical degree.”
I nodded. “It could be that both Biggs and King somehow crossed Wayland, didn’t deliver on a shipment of drugs. Maybe King was pleading their case while one of Wayland’s associates decided Biggs had crossed a line and took him out.
“One of the detectives working the case also thinks it’s possible that King set up Biggs to take the fall for not delivering on the drugs they promised to Wayland, thereby relieving himself of a debt that he owed Biggs. There’s a lot that we still have to put together.”
“I don’t envy you having to deal with someone like Rafi Wayland.”
“Our case is going to have to be solid before we even get there.”
As we ate, our conversation shifted to our personal lives. I told her about being in a relationship with Buck McCade. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little scared about everything.”
Brie tasted her veggie lasagna then said, “Why? It sounds like everything is going great with you two.”
“That’s just it. It feels almost too good to be true.” I didn’t have much of an appetite and pushed my chicken piccata around on my plate. “It’s a little scary with everything going so well. I just hope things can stay this way.”
Brie touched my hand. “I’m glad you found someone.”
I asked her about her five year-old daughter, Lily, and then about her house hunt.
“I have to be out of my apartment in two weeks. I’m afraid I’m going to end up staying with my sister, but she has three kids of her own. It’s not very promising.”
She was obviously desperate and I felt compelled to try and help. “I’m living with my friends, my sister, a vampire, and a troll. Our house might also be haunted, but if you’re inclined to give it a try you could move in with us.”
***
After dinner I got home around nine. Bernie greeted me at the door with a lot of enthusiasm. Maybe the ghouls had been after him.
I found Lindsay in the living room and asked my sister about her day.
She swept her hand through her brown hair, her eyes widening. “It was interesting and a little crazy. I left Bernie with one of the desk officers and spent a couple of hours doing a ride-along. The officers arrested someone on Hollywood Boulevard for fighting. They had to call for backup and it was a little intense.”
Seeing what really goes on in the streets of Hollywood was a good thing from my perspective. “Having some doubts about the job?”
She shrugged. “Eli doesn’t think the job’s for me, but the jury’s still out. We’ll see.”
I still hadn’t met her boyfriend. “Are things going okay between you and Eli?”
She smiled. “Pretty good. His friend, Sonny, set us up to go on a fantasy double date for tomorrow night. It’s going to be me and Eli, Sonny and Natalie.”
My friends came over from the kitchen where they’d made hot chocolate. Natalie overheard our conversation and said, “It’s roller derby night. I get to be a jammah.”
“A what?”
“She means jammer,” Lindsay said, saying the word without a British accent. “She’s the person who tries to lap the other team and score.”
I said to Natalie, “I hope you don’t get injured.”
“Baby sis can take care of herself,” Mo said. “The other team don’t stand a chance.” She looked at Natalie. “Maybe Larry and me can tag along, if there’s room.”
“Of course, Mo. Maybe you can be part of the team.”
Mo said she would think about it before I asked Natalie, “Have you met Sonny?”
Natalie’s beautiful hazel eyes brightened, the pitch in her voice rising. “We had a drink tonight. He’s the bomb, Kate. Hunky, smart, and I think me fantasy life is gonna
get a whole lot better, if you know what I mean.”
I knew exactly what she meant. “Just take it slow. Remember what happened with Tex.” Natalie had been engaged to a brainiac named, Tex, but the marriage had been called off when he took up with a college sweetheart.
“Don’t remind me. Heard he married that nerd he took up with.”
“Georgette?”
“Yeah. They’re probably spendin’ their honeymoon at some geek convention.”
Mo changed the subject. “I heard today that Jerry King’s gonna walk.”
“What? How did you…”
Mo waved a big hand, sipped her hot chocolate. “I got my sources. From what I heard King and Biggs weren’t good for a drug delivery to Rafi Wayland and he sent Biggs a permanent message.” She shook her big head that tonight was topped by a green wig. “And Rafi The Righteous ain’t somebody you wanna cross.”
I was wondering if someone in the department had leaked the information when Natalie said to Mo, “Maybe we oughta spend some time over at Blood Nation’s HQ, get the lowdown on Rafi.”
“You can’t be involved,” I said, “And Wayland’s gang is extremely dangerous.”
Mo looked at me and shook her head. “You’re a broken record with a bad memory. Baby sis and me know how to take care of business.”
After a ten minute argument, they both agreed to give me space to work the case without interfering. I then remembered about my conversation with Brie and explained her circumstances. “She’s got a five year-old and would like to move into the carriage house over the garage if Larry and Phyllis can get it in shape and you all agree.”
“We’re gonna have our own in-house coroner,” Mo said after no objections were raised. “If one of us gets whacked at least she can slice us open and figure out if it was Claude or that Lester freak who murdered us.”
I was told that Dr. Lester had spent the afternoon with a shovel digging at various locations around the estate before we all heard a loud groaning sound. Mo got up and headed for the basement. “There’s no way I’m gonna put up with another night of groaning. I’m gonna put a pillow over that little troll’s head.”