by Tripp Ellis
Go figure.
I took off my jacket, folded it over, and tried to cover the blood stain on my shirt as I walked through the hotel lobby.
In my room, I pulled the whiskey bottles from their bags and set them on the counter, then peeled out of my bloody suit. I took a shower, changed into another suit, then called room service and sent my soiled garments out for cleaning.
I wasn’t sure the stains would come out.
My phone buzzed with a call from Lyric. “You got a minute?”
“For you, I’ve got more than a minute.”
“I did some digging.”
“I thought you had dropped your investigation?”
“Well, old habits die hard. And you’ve sparked my curiosity.” She paused. “So, take this with a grain of salt. I have a source that has a source…”
“Okay…”
“The toxicology report was sent out to an independent lab for testing. My source, who has a source within that lab, swears that a large amount of fentanyl was found in Mia’s blood along with the heroin, cocaine, and alcohol.”
“The fentanyl didn’t make it into the final report,” I said, my face twisted with confusion.
“I know.”
“How much trust do you place in these sources?”
“A lot.”
“Would you bet your life on it?”
She hesitated for a long moment. “Let me get back to you on that one. But I trust my source.”
I thanked her for the info and told her to let me know if anything else came up.
It was almost 11 PM. I figured I'd hit Opal first. It was the closest bar to the hotel. The line of pretty people was around the corner, and I had no intention of waiting for hours to get in.
I cut the line and flashed my badge to the bouncer at the velvet rope. He unhooked the rope from the stanchion and waved me past. Another flash of my badge to the cashier, and I was inside the club.
Music thumped, and colored lights swirled. A sea of revelers undulated in rhythm to the beat.
The place was packed.
I surveyed the scene, looking for the VIP area. Movie stars didn't usually party with mere mortals. They sat at exclusive tables and drank from expensive bottles.
I pushed through the crowd, weaving my way to the far end of the club. There were lots of short skirts, high heels, and fake boobs.
Really, really nice fake boobs.
Beverly Hills surgeons had lots of practice.
There were gaudy purses and blinged-out cell phones and lots of shimmering earrings and necklaces.
I had looked up Zach Ward online and studied a few images of the leading actor. I kept a few for reference on my phone.
There was a section of the club that was roped off toward the back, and a bouncer stood guard. Pretty people lounged on couches and drank bottles of expensive champagne.
I surveyed the VIP area but didn't see who I was looking for. I approached the VIP bouncer and flashed my badge. "Looking for Zach Ward. Have you seen him?”
"He's not in tonight. He's usually here on Thursdays. Is he in some kind of trouble?"
The bouncer was looking for juicy gossip.
"No. I just need to ask him a few questions."
"This about Mia Sophia?"
I lifted a curious eyebrow. "It is, actually. Why do you ask?"
The bouncer shrugged. "They used to date. That's all. Plus, there was another cop in here asking about Zach a week ago."
"Well, we like to be thorough."
The bouncer surveyed me for a moment. “You might be able to catch him at Skyline. That's where the Panty Platoon hangs out."
"Panty Platoon?”
“Have you been living in the Stone Age, man?"
"I just thawed out. I’ve been frozen in a block of ice for the last 2,000 years."
He chuckled. "It's a group of young stars. They’re always cruising the bars, picking up chicks. I mean, who could blame them. If I was rich, famous, and good-looking, I'd be hitting anything that walked.” He paused. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for good looking.”
I grinned and we shook hands. "What’s your name?"
"Tyrell."
“Good to meet you, Tyrell. My name is Tyson. Thanks for the info.”
“Just remember I did you a solid.”
“You’re not planning on getting in trouble, are you?”
He grinned. “Nobody ever plans on getting in trouble. But it never hurts to have a friend on the job.” He paused. “You can’t do anything about parking tickets, can you?”
15
The ivy-covered pavilion of Skyline offered a stunning view of the city. Lights of the LA basin twinkled like stars in the night. There were cozy white couches and chairs. Flowing sheer drapes rippled with the breeze. Candles flickered atop tables. Lounge chairs surrounded the outdoor pool, and the bar served up fresh cocktails. Music pumped through speakers, and pretty people mingled. It was an exclusive bar, and the clientele was carefully curated. If you were a celebrity, you bypassed the chaotic line and were ushered to an exclusive area.
I found Zach poolside. He was with a few members of the platoon and Tricia Marlowe.
Zach had piercing blue eyes, brown hair, and a square head that looked like it belonged on television. He almost looked cartoonish in person. A constant insincere smile was permanently etched on his face, revealing pearly white teeth that almost seemed to glow. He was a man that knew people were always looking at him.
Tricia Marlowe was a platinum blonde with shoulder-length hair coiffed to perfection. She reminded me of an old-school Hollywood starlet. She wore a black one-piece that hugged her pert form. The halter top had a low V-cut, revealing what looked to be all-natural endowments. A rarity in this town.
I flashed my badge as I approached. I’m pretty sure everyone assumed I was LA County. “I’d like to talk to you about Mia Sophia.”
Zach’s perpetual grin faded. “I already talked to the LAPD. Mia drowned. What more is there to say?”
“The autopsy report says she had alcohol, cocaine, and heroin in her system at the time of death.”
“I guess she made some bad choices,” Zach said.
I decided to roll with Lyric’s information and see where it got me. “There was enough fentanyl in her system to kill a rhinoceros. If she didn’t drown, she would have been dead anyway.”
A wave of concern washed over Zach’s face. “I guess she got a hold of some bad stuff.”
“Any idea where she got it from?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t do drugs.”
Zach flashed that television smile again, but I could tell he was lying. I could see it in his eyes.
“Sure. No one in Hollywood does drugs,” I said dryly. “Especially not the rich and famous.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Maybe it was bad luck,” I suggested. “Maybe she bought a bad batch from the wrong dealer. Who knows? Or maybe, somebody tainted her supply on purpose.”
Zack’s face twisted up. “Why would anyone do that?”
“You tell me.”
He shrugged innocently.
“Did she have any enemies?”
“Everyone in Hollywood has enemies. But I can’t imagine there was anyone who wanted to kill her. That’s what you’re suggesting, isn’t it?”
“Why did you two break up?”
“Don’t answer any more questions,” Tricia advised.
Zach squirmed uncomfortably.
“If he doesn’t have anything to hide, he’s got nothing to worry about,” I said to the blonde bombshell.
“I don’t have anything to hide,” Zach announced.
“Who had the most to gain by Mia’s death?” I asked.
Without hesitation, Zach said, “June Foster.”
“Who’s that?”
“She was probably Mia’s biggest competitor. The two hated each other. They were always up against each other at auditions, and June always lost out to Mia. Jun
e actually took over her role on the new show.”
I glanced at Tricia. “What about you? Were you ever in competition with Mia?”
Tricia’s eyes narrowed at me. “We’re not the same type. And even if we were, Mia wouldn’t have been competition for me.”
“What you’re suggesting sounds a little outrageous,” Zach said. “I highly doubt June Foster paid Bhodi to lace Mia’s drugs with fentanyl.” The name slipped out, and I could tell Zach regretted it the minute it escaped from his lips.
“So, Bhodi was Mia’s dealer?” I asked.
Zach grimaced. He looked around to make sure no one was listening. The rest of his platoon had drifted away the minute I flashed my badge. Zach leaned in and hissed, “Bhodi Hendrix. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Where can I find Bhodi?”
“He’s at all the usual hotspots. Here, Opal, Crescent Club, Prism. He supplies all the celebrities with their party favors.”
“How do I get in touch with him?”
Zach shifted uncomfortably again.
“I’ll leave your name out of it,” I assured.
“I can give you his number. But he won’t call you back. Not from a number he doesn’t recognize.” Zach thought about it for a moment. A devious grin curled on his lips. “Tell him Blaine sent you.”
“Who’s Blaine?”
“A guy I don’t like.”
I entered Bhodi’s number into my cell phone.
“What about Nikki Griffin?” I asked.
Zach rolled his eyes. “That’s all bullshit.”
“If you say so,” Tricia added snidely.
Zach’s eyes narrowed at her. “Please. Mia was not a hooker.”
“She got to the top somehow, and it certainly wasn’t on talent,” Tricia quipped.
“Seriously? Have a little respect,” Zach snapped.
Tricia’s face crinkled. “Why are you defending her?”
“Because she’s dead. She can’t defend herself.”
“I thought you were over her, but I guess not.” Tricia sipped her drink.
“Why are you being like this?” Zach growled.
“Can we get back on topic?” I suggested, interrupting the quarrel. “What was Mia’s relationship like with Desmond Ross?”
The two got quiet.
“I don’t really know,” Zach said.
“Did they ever sleep together?”
“We never talked about it, and I didn’t ask.”
Tricia bulged her tongue into her cheek and made a motion with her hand like she was sucking on something. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what.
The gesture annoyed Zach. “She did not suck her way to the top.”
“She didn’t get there on talent, just saying,” Tricia added. She’d had quite a few drinks, and her filter was nonexistent.
“You have to excuse her,” Zach said. “She gets a little mouthy when she’s drunk.”
“You like it when I’m mouthy,” she muttered. “Stop being a dick, or you’re not going to get any mouthy-mouthy tonight.”
Zach took a deep breath. “You ought to be looking into Rory Allen.”
“Who’s Rory Allen?” I asked.
16
"He's a nut job," Zach said. "Mia had to get a restraining order against him. He broke into her house one time. Threatened to kill her."
"What for?" I asked.
"I don't know. The voices in his head told him to do it?" he mocked.
“And you think Rory could have paid Bhodi to lace Mia’s drugs with fentanyl because the voices told him to do it?” I asked with more than a trace of sarcasm.
Zach's face crinkled. "I don't know. I'm just making suggestions.” He paused. “Are you sure it was the fentanyl that killed her?"
I shrugged. "Right now, I'm not sure of anything. Somebody could have pushed her into the pool, and she was too whacked out to do anything about it."
"Who would do something like that?"
"I've got a source that saw her with Desmond Ross that night."
Zach exchanged a glance with Tricia.
“You’re not gonna catch me saying anything bad about Desmond,” Zach said.
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said, incredulous. “Going against that guy is career suicide.”
“You’re a big star,” I said, smugly. “Surely, your career is safe.”
Zach’s eyes narrowed at me. “Desmond can blacklist anyone. Nobody’s career is safe in Hollywood.” He paused. "Look, I hope you get to the bottom of this. I really do. We didn't always see eye to eye, but Mia was a special girl."
Tricia's jealous eyes blazed into him.
It didn't go unnoticed.
Zach defended himself. “What!? Am I not allowed to care for someone I used to date? Someone who happens to be dead now? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tricia snapped back.
The platinum blonde spun around and stormed away.
"Excuse me. I have to do damage control."
Zach chased after Tricia.
I mingled through Skyline, taking in the sights. I had to admit, all the online reviews weren’t wrong. This was one of the best views of all the nightclubs in West Hollywood.
I figured it was too late to pursue any more leads. I might as well have a little fun. I made my way through the good-looking crowd and ordered a whiskey at the bar.
A blonde shuffled next to me. She wore a black strapless dress that created a delightful valley of cleavage. She wasn’t shy about showing it off either. “Excuse me, but I couldn’t help notice you talking to Zach Ward. Are you two friends?”
“I guess you could call us acquaintances,” I said.
“You think you could introduce me? I’ve had such a crush on him for, like, ever.” She was like a giddy schoolgirl. “I mean, I just don’t want to approach him randomly and come off like a total fan or a stalker.” She chuckled, laughing it off.
“I thought you just said you were a fan?”
Her face soured. “I said I had a crush on him. And once he gets a taste of what’s in these panties, he may just have a crush on me.”
She had a few drinks and was a little on the sloppy side. She knew what she wanted, and she was determined to get it. The blonde was good looking, in a plastic sort of way, but it was the attitude that really killed it.
“If you’re as desirable as you say you are, you don’t need my help.”
Her face scrunched up. “Dick!”
She spun around and stormed away.
I laughed. Hollywood.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I slid the device out and looked at the screen. It was a text from Lyric.
[Find out anything interesting?]
[Isn’t it past your bedtime?]
[I’m a big girl. I can stay up as late as I want.]
[I just spoke with Zach Ward.]
[And?]
[Meet me at Skyline, and I’ll tell you.]
[It’s late, and I’m not waiting in that line. How about I meet you back at the hotel? I’ve got information you might find useful.]
[My room is #421]
[Not your hotel room. The bar. Don’t get ahead of yourself.]
[When?]
[20 minutes. I live close. In the hills.]
[See you there.]
17
The hotel bar was crowded, but not overly so. The booths were full, but I managed to grab a table. I didn’t see Lyric yet.
A waitress swung by, and I ordered a round for both of us. I gave her my room number, and she put it on my tab.
Lyric strutted into the bar a few minutes later. She had changed outfits and was wearing a skimpy blue dress that accented her red hair and creamy skin. It hugged all of her well-placed curves and took the eye on the delightful journey through captivating peaks and valleys. She had freshened up her makeup, which she didn't need, anyway.
I began to think her interest was more than just business.
I stood up as she arrived and offered her the seat across from me. "Thanks for coming."
"Well, I didn't have anything else to do," she said, feigning boredom.
I took a seat and lifted my glass. She clinked hers against mine, then brought it to her beautiful lips. She stopped short of sipping it and examined the whiskey carefully. "I usually don't drink anything that I haven't seen poured myself." Her emerald eyes gazed into mine, searching for clues to my nature. "I don't think you're the type to roofie anyone."
“Are you sure about that?” I asked, taunting her.
“I guess we’re about to find out.” She took a sip of the liquor and swallowed it down. "In this town you learn to size up people pretty quickly. Everybody's full of shit. Except a rare few."
“What category do I fall into?”
She squinted, pretending to scrutinize me once again. “I’m gonna say the rare few.”
“It's like an exclusive club," I said proudly.
"More like an endangered species.”
I smiled. My eyes drank in her enticing form, her gorgeous face, her sultry eyes. “Nice dress. You look… not at all unattractive.”
She arched a sassy eyebrow at me. "Is that your version of a compliment?”
"Yes, I do believe so.”
“Don't get too excited. This is just drinks, and we’re just discussing business."
"Do you always discuss business looking like this?"
"Like what?" she asked, acting oblivious.
I shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know… stunning?”
She tried to hide a grin on her full lips. “Would you rather I had worn sweatpants and put my hair up in a bun?"
"Somehow, I think you could make any combination look good."
"Well, aren't you charming this evening?" She took another sip of her whiskey.
I feigned modesty. “I haven’t unleashed my full charm yet.”
She laughed. There was a trace of sarcasm in her voice when she said, “Please don’t. I don’t know if I could stand it, Captain Charm.”
“I’ll go easy on you. Since this is just business, let's get down to it."