by M. Z. Kelly
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
The next morning I briefed Lieutenant Edna on what Brie had said about Jiggy Biggs’ autopsy results. “Based upon the video at the Alibar Hotel and Brie’s analysis, there was no window of opportunity for King to have murdered Biggs.”
“What a fucking mess.” The lieutenant shoved some paperwork into his briefcase. “I’m heading downtown with Captain Decker to meet with some of the brass, the DA, and the feds about cutting King a deal in return for immunity. I’ll catch up with you later.”
While the higher-ups were off deciding Jerry King’s fate, I went back to working the George Bundt murder with Pearl and Harvey.
“No leads on Marcel Frost’s whereabouts,” Pearl said, after we took seats in his office. “I checked with the studios and he missed another day of filming yesterday.”
“What about the actress Frost was supposedly having sex with when Bundt walked in?” Harvey asked. “Do we have any idea who she was?” My new partner was dressed like a regular cop again and seemed to have his head in the game.
“Somebody at the studios must know who he was having the affair with,” I said, agreeing with Harvey.
Pearl nodded. “I’m told it could be any one of a dozen women. But let’s head over there this morning and see what we can turn up.”
While Pearl finished up some paperwork, I stopped by the station’s front desk and asked Terry Shaw how Lindsay’s day at the station had gone from his perspective.
“I think she was interested and learned a lot,” the middle-aged cop said. Shaw was on light duty due to a recent knee injury, hence the desk duty. “Guess you heard she did a brief ride-along.”
“I understand there was a disturbance and assistance had to be called in.”
Shaw nodded and grimaced. “Crenshaw was one of the responding officers. The scuttlebutt is that he was trying to hit on your sister after the incident.”
“Oh no, that’s not good.” Ralph Crenshaw was a first rate sleaze, always looking for a hook-up.
“You might want to have a talk with Lindsay.”
“Consider it done. Thanks Terry.”
I not only planned to talk to Lindsay, but also Crenshaw and tell him in no uncertain terms that my sister was off limits.
***
We spent most of the morning asking around Sunset Studios about Marcel Frost’s hook-ups. We got several women’s names who Frost was supposedly involved with, including a couple of actresses and a production assistant. The name Sally Mattingly came up a couple of times during our questioning and we learned that she was scheduled to be on set that afternoon.
We decided to have lunch at the studios while waiting to talk to Mattingly. We caught a break when Bruce Wallace, the head of security for the studio, came by the lunchroom.
“I’ve asked around about problems with Bundt but didn’t come up with much,” Wallace said. “But I did learn that he’s been using a retired employee’s locker. If you’d like, we can all go over there together and check it out.”
We followed Wallace to the studio’s employee lounge and an adjacent dressing room. He got a key from one of the supervisors and opened Bundt’s locker. “Looks like just a bunch…what’s this…” Wallace paused, reaching into the back of the locker. “What do you supposed he was using these for?” We saw that he was holding three smoke detectors.
Pearl took one of the devices and opened it. “It looks like our victim had a hobby,” he said, showing us there was a miniature camera inside the detector. He opened the other two units and found the same thing.
“If Bundt was spying on someone, maybe he was blackmailing him or her with the video, and it didn’t end well for him,” Harvey speculated.
I took one of the smoke detectors from Pearl. “Maybe we should go ask Sally Mattingly what she knows about this.”
We found Mattingly on the set of a game show where she was working, showcasing prizes that contestants won. After a segment of the show was completed we met with her in a small office near the sound stage. The actress was probably in her late twenties, pretty, and nervous.
After explaining in general terms why we were there, Pearl said, “We understand you were in a relationship with Mr. Frost.”
Mattingly tugged on an earring and nodded. “We were involved for a brief time, but it’s over now.”
Pearl’s voice became more confidential and he spoke in a way that reminded me of a father speaking to his child. “I need to ask you something personal. I know this might be embarrassing, but I want you to answer truthfully. Will you do that for me?”
The actress nodded, her gaze falling away from Pearl.
“We’re you ever involved in a physical relationship with Mr. Frost when a security guard walked in on the two of you?”
The actress sighed, brushed a hand through her short blonde hair, and met Pearl’s eyes. “Marcel was pretty angry about it.”
“Can you tell me exactly what happened?”
“The guard walked in while Marcel and I were…together…on one of the sets from his show. He said something about being sorry and started to leave. That’s when Marcel got angry and started calling him names.”
“What kind of names?”
“I don’t remember exactly. I think it was something about him spying on us and being a pervert.”
“And then what happened?”
“The guard left, but Marcel was still really angry. He said he wasn’t going to continue to put up with his bullshit.”
“When Marcel said the guard was spying, did he tell you exactly what he meant by that?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I just assumed he meant walking in on us.”
“Did the security guard ever contact you and maybe say he had pictures of you and Marcel together?”
“What…” Her eyes were suddenly huge, the realization about what had happened dawning on her. “You mean he…”
“We’re not sure at this point. We’re still investigating.”
Mattingly’s complexion paled. Harvey being around a dead body came to mind when she said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
***
We got back to the station by mid-afternoon and met with the lieutenant.
“The jury’s still out on King,” Edna told us. “The feds want to take down Rafi Wayland and end the drug dealing, so they’re eager to cut a deal. But the DA’s dragging his feet. It’s hurry up and wait.”
“And in the meantime?” I asked.
“We continue to work the case on the down low. Hammer’s coming in tomorrow to help plan where we go from here. In the meantime let’s continue to work on Bundt.”
After our meeting ended we got a call from Bruce Wallace telling us that Marcel Frost had been spotted at Sunset Studios. We all piled into an unmarked car and were headed for the studio when Wallace called again. “Frost just left through the main gate. He’s driving an older model, silver Porsche.”
I called dispatch, asking that they alert any marked units in the area to be on the lookout for Frost’s car. Hollywood station was only a couple of miles from the studios on Sunset Boulevard, so we knew that our subject had to be in the area.
No sooner had I ended the call than Harvey said from the backseat, “He just blew through the intersection ahead of us, heading west.”
“Got him,” Pearl said, turning onto Sunset in pursuit. Our car was unmarked without lights or a siren so I called for assistance. A marked unit on Highland spotted Frost’s car and took up the pursuit ahead of us.
“He sees the cruiser,” I said, as the actor sped up and ran a red light.
Frost narrowly missed a van moving through the intersection. The responding unit ahead of us was now in full pursuit with lights and siren blaring, weaving in and out of traffic.
“He’s turning onto Fountain, heading south,” Gluck said, the pitch in his voice lifting. I glanced back at Bernie, who sat next to him. He was aware of the pursuit and panting, his ears pointing straight up on alert.
“He’s skidding up on the sidewalk,” Pearl said as we saw Frost’s car go sideways and take out a row of newspaper racks. He managed to get the car under control again and accelerate down the street.
We picked up speed as we followed the marked cruiser down Fountain, a congested two lane boulevard. It was a busy time of day and up ahead I saw Frost’s car swerving in and out of traffic, just missing several cars.
“He’s turning on Vista,” Harvey said. “He’s heading back toward Sunset.” Ahead of us Frost’s Porsche accelerated wildly as he skidded around the corner and turned onto Sunset. “Hollywood High’s just up ahead.”
The high school was located on the corner of Sunset and Highland, a busy intersection filled with cars and people. Frost applied his brakes as he came to the intersection, skidded into oncoming traffic, and hit a school bus. He then bolted from the car.
We came up behind the responding unit and saw Frost running onto the grounds of Hollywood High. School was getting out and the campus was crowded with students.
We took up the foot pursuit as the marked police unit assisted at the accident scene, called for an ambulance, and did crowd control. Up ahead we saw Frost making his way through a gate and running onto the school grounds. We followed behind as he headed onto the athletic fields.
I stopped, released Bernie from his leash, and gave him the attack command, “FASS.”
It took my big dog less than thirty seconds to close the distance between us and Marcel Frost. Bernie lunged at the actor, clamping down on Frost’s arm as the actor went down. When we got to the scene our suspect was on the ground, bleeding, and screaming for help.
I got Bernie under control, but Frost was hysterical, telling us that he was going to bleed to death.
“Shut the fuck up,” I spat at him. “There’s a bus full of kids back there and some of them could be in worse shape than you.”
The actor continued wailing until other marked units arrived. One of the responding officers gave him first aid and called for an ambulance. We had a unit go with him to the hospital, where he was treated for minor injuries and released to our custody.
It was a little after six in the evening by the time Frost was released from the hospital and transported back to Hollywood Station for an interview. We’d learned that the injuries to the students on the school bus were minor.
So far, the only charges we had on Frost were resisting arrest and a multitude of traffic violations, including reckless driving resulting in bodily injury. I was determined to charge the actor with the murder of George Bundt before the day was over.
“I want to do the interview,” Harvey said. “It’s time I shared the workload and fine-tuned my skills.”
I glanced at Pearl who gave a slight nod. I turned back to Harvey. “He’s all yours. I’ll sit beside you unless…” I looked back at Pearl.
“You two go ahead,” Pearl said. “I’m going to call it a day. You can fill me in tomorrow.”
As soon as we walked into the interview room Marcel Frost said, “I didn’t kill him. He was blackmailing me.”
Harvey read the actor his Miranda rights. He waived, agreed to talk, and then my partner said, “Tell me about the blackmail.”
I knew from running record checks that Frost was thirty-seven. He had all the prerequisite qualities required of an actor; handsome, a flawless dark complexion, a megawatt smile, and a convincing persona. He also had his arm swathed in bandages from Bernie’s attack.
Frost winced and complained about his injuries before answering Harvey. “About three months ago, I was in a relationship with an actress that had been going on for a few months. One day, a DVD of us having sex was left in my dressing room with a note. Bundt used the name Carter and said he wanted ten thousand or he would release the video on the Internet.”
“How do you know Bundt was behind the recording?”
“He gave me some specific instructions about where and when to drop the money. I waited after the drop off and followed him. He went to a shopping mall where I confronted him, demanded my money back, and the recording. He was basically scared shitless and complied, telling me it was all a big mistake.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
The actor tugged on his bandaged arm, said he was in pain, and then said, “I was afraid he had another copy of the video. I knew if he was arrested he’d have nothing to lose by releasing it.”
“The girl on the video—who was she?”
Frost hesitated, sighed. “I don’t want to say.”
Harvey leaned in closer to the actor, his features hardening. “Listen to me. You’re facing murder charges unless we can substantiate your story. The only way that’s going to happen is if you give us her name.”
Frost lifted the arm that wasn’t in a sling and ran his hand through his hair. “Okay. She works at the studio. Her name is Sally Mattingly.”
Harvey glanced over at me, maybe questioning how he was doing. I nodded and he continued, “Did you see Bundt again after that day you confronted him?”
“The little asshole showed up on the set a few days later and caught me and Sally together again. I knew that he was continuing to spy on me and threatened him.” Frost’s eyes came over to me, maybe thinking he also needed to convince me of his innocence. “I warned him to stop what he was doing, but I didn’t kill him.”
“And I suppose you have an alibi on the day he was killed?” I asked.
“I was with my new girlfriend, Carla Larkin. I’ll give you her number if you want to call her.”
“We’ll need that,” Harvey said, pushing a pen and paper across the table. While Frost wrote down the number my partner said, “Tell me something. If you’re not guilty, why did you run?”
Frost scribbled a phone number and handed Harvey back the slip of paper. “I guess…” Frost sniffed, wiped his nose, and winced again. “I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.”
I despised Marcel Frost, his arrogant attitude, the way he used people, but that didn’t necessarily make him a killer.
“I’ve got just one more question, Mr. Frost,” I said. “If you didn’t kill George Bundt, who do you think did?”
Frost shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it was somebody else he was blackmailing. I doubt I was his only victim.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
We booked Marcel Frost on the existing charges, but knew we needed more before we could charge him with murder if, in fact, he had committed the crime. I had nothing but contempt for the actor, but wasn’t sure that he’d killed George Bundt.
It was almost ten by the time Bernie and I got home. We found Natalie, Mo, and Lindsay in the living room with Natalie’s date.
“Our roller derby fantasy was the bomb,” Natalie said. “Mo blocked the other team while I scored. We shut ‘em out.”
Natalie then introduced me to Sonny Croup. My friend’s new guy was probably about her age, with brown hair, even features, and huge brown eyes that gave me the impression that he was in a perpetual state of childlike wonder.
“Let me know if you’d like to participate in our next fantasy,” Sonny said to me, pronouncing each syllable in the word precisely. Something about his speech brought Kermit The Frog to mind.
“I’m not sure I’m up to a group fantasy,” I said.
“Kate’s too busy with her cowboy fantasy to do anything else,” Mo said to Sonny.
“Sonny and me have been thinking ‘bout our actor’s workshop,” Natalie said. “He’s got some connections and thinks we could get next week’s session moved to the Kodak Theater where they hold the Oscars, maybe even invite an audience.”
“It’s now called the Dolby Theater, but I’m sure I can work out the details,” Sonny croaked, his eyes wide. “We can hand out free tickets in front of the theater for the event.”
“That works for me,” Mo said. “I always perform better when somebody’s watching.” She smiled in a seductive way.
“I’d like to watch the performance,” Li
ndsay said. She turned to me. “Maybe I could invite Eli and you could bring…”
“Buck,” I said. “But I’m not sure acting workshops are his thing.”
“Buck’s more a rope and spurs kinda guy,” Mo offered.
“Come on, Kate,” Natalie said. “That new partner of yours is still in our workshop. It’ll give you a chance to see his acting chops.”
“And those are some ugly chops,” Mo said. “The worst of it is the guy thinks he’s good.”
“That bad?” I asked.
“Gluck sucks,” Natalie agreed. “And that’s being kind.”
I thought about my new partner, how he seemed to be finally separating his acting fantasies from his job. If he was as bad as they said he was, I decided that he probably needed some moral support. “I’ll plan on going, but I’m not sure that Buck can make it.”
“I’ll work out the details for the event,” Sonny croaked. His giant orbs held on Natalie. “I really should be going. I have an early class tomorrow.”
Natalie seemed disappointed that Kermit, I mean Sonny, wasn’t spending the night but she showed him to the door. While they were gone I asked about Claude and Dr. Lester.
“Been kinda quiet ‘round here today,” Mo said, smiling. “I think maybe the doctor got the message ‘bout his groaning problem.”
“I hope you didn’t hurt him.”
“Sometimes a little trauma ain’t such a bad thing.”
I was planning to ask her what she meant when Natalie returned and asked me, “Did you guys cut Jerry King loose yet.”
I didn’t want to discuss the case but said, “He’s still in custody. We have some things we need to look into.”
“We heard on the street that Rafi bloke’s got it in for Jerry,” Natalie said. “If you release him he’s gonna last about five minutes before Blood Nation puts the big hurt on him.”
I was about to warn them again to stay out of things when Mo said, “I heard Rafi had some kinda beef with Jiggy from the old days. Maybe that’s what was behind his murder.”
Now my interest was piqued. “What kind of beef?”