Hollywood Assassin - A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller

by MZ Kelly

  “We need to downshift,” I said, grabbing the gearshift. “Hit the clutch, and I’ll change gears for you.”

  In retrospect, I decided it was all a multi-tasker’s nightmare. Too many feet, hands, bodies, and engine parts were involved. Olive’s engine revved wildly as Natalie engaged the clutch but didn’t ease up on the accelerator. I tried to downshift and heard metal grinding. Black smoke belched from under the hood.

  Natalie slammed on the brakes. We spun around in the street. I heard a hard clanking noise, a huge swishing sound, and suddenly the world was full of water.

  I turned, the clarity of the moment hitting me all at once. There was a duck sitting behind the wheel of my car, and a fountain of water spilling in through the open windows.

  Natalie turned on the windshield wipers, looked at me and said, “I think we hit a fireplug.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

   

  The day after Natalie and I survived our encounter with Nathan Kane, I was hobbling around on crutches, thanks to a sprained ankle. We invited Charlie to meet us at Pearl’s cottage late in the afternoon.

  I’d filed a police report about last night’s events, but told the responding officers our intruder was unknown. Charlie told me that Kane’s parole warrant had already hit the system, and I didn’t want any further complications with the department until we had a chance to sort through everything.

  After Pearl brought us drinks, I mentioned the painting he was still working on, set up on an easel. I still couldn’t make out the images in the unfinished artwork.

  “I think it’s a couple bumpin’ frizzies,” Natalie said.

  “Why am I not surprised?” I said to my friend.

  “The images are starting to come together,” Pearl offered. “But the painting is still a bit of a mystery, just like our case.”

  Charlie had taken a stroll through the rose garden adjacent to the patio to smoke a cigarette before joining us. He accepted a beer from Pearl and asked me about Bernie.

  “He’s doing watchdog duty for Robin at my mom’s house. I want my brother safe until things are settled.” His question brought Charlie’s daughter to mind. “How are things with Irma?”

  “Living with B-Boy for the past three days. She called me last night, though. Wants to come by this weekend and talk.”

  “Maybe the grass isn’t so green after all?”

  “There ain’t no grass. B-Boy lives over on Florence in government housing.”

  I knew the neighborhood. It was one of the worst in LA. “Get her home as soon as you can, Charlie.”

  He tipped up his beer, set it down. “I know. I’ve got an app on my iPhone that picks up all the police dispatch calls. The department should just open up a station in one of the apartments.”

  I turned to the business at hand. “I wanted you to meet with us, Charlie, because at some point, maybe at my Board of Rights hearing, we’re going to have to bring other agencies into everything.”

  Charlie said, “Dorothy Velasquez told me you’re trying to expedite your hearing. I don’t get it.”

  “I want the department to know the truth, and I want my job back as soon as possible. Chester was able to get the hearing set for this coming Wednesday morning. That gives me three days to prepare.”

  Charlie had guzzled his beer while I was talking and set it down. “If the department finds out you’ve been involved in a rogue investigation, the hearing will be a slam dunk. You won’t have a chance.”

  I heard the edge in my voice as I said, “The only way I can keep from getting slam dunked is if we break the case. If I sit around and watch from the sidelines, the game’s over.”

  Charlie shrugged and drank, maybe thinking I was a lost cause, or maybe he just needed more beer to get the nerve to come back at me.

  I spent the next few minutes summarizing everything for Charlie, including our meeting with Gloria Stallings and last night’s run-in with Nathan Kane.

  “We would’ve gotten the ruddy wazzock,” Natalie said, referring to Kane, “if it wasn’t for a few mechanical problems.”

  I estimated those mechanical problems would cost me close to a thousand bucks and didn’t want to even think about how I was going to pay the repair bill. I turned to Pearl after mentioning to the others that he’d received a copy of John Carmichael’s unfinished film by overnight mail.

  “Before we watch Days of Destiny,” I said to Pearl, “maybe you can summarize what was in the envelope we got from Cassie’s mother.”

  “It was a list of over thirty corporations, beginning with what we believe was the original company, Pacific Trading Partners, started by Conrad Harper and John Carmichael back in 1983. The documents included more than a hundred subsidiary companies, film studios, and related businesses. It’s noteworthy that the corporations were created, existed for a year or two, and were then dissolved.”

  “Once they served their purpose,” I said.

  “The corporations served two purposes,” Pearl agreed. “First, to get the fledgling drug empire off the ground by importing heroin and other drugs. Second, to launder the drug money by running it through the corporations and studios. Diamond was one of Kane’s dealers, and Harper had the studio connections. He probably set that part of the scheme in motion.”

  “Dirty flicks for clean money,” Natalie said.

  “Good analogy,” I agreed. “When the movies were finished, they would be sold to independent distributors. A few of the films made a healthy profit, but, for the most part, they earned very little. Of course, none of that mattered.”

  “Because the books were cooked,” Charlie said.

  “In a big way,” Pearl agreed. “They couldn’t just put the drug profits in the bank, because any deposits in excess of the government reporting limits would raise red flags. So they had to find a way to make it legal. The financial records would make it look like the corporations spent large sums of money on the productions, but the finished product wouldn’t come close to matching what they probably reported went into making the films.”

  “What about the corporations?” Charlie asked. “Whose names are on the records?”

  “So far none of the records show that any of our suspects are listed, except for the initial company that was set up by Harper and Carmichael, but that’s no surprise. Pacific Trading Partners was probably their test corporation, a learning experience, for fledgling drug dealers who were testing the waters. As the business grew, they used small-time players to set everything up, with multiple layers of insulation to protect them in case anyone became suspicious. In time, Kane also parlayed his drug money into a prostitution ring. The porn industry went hand-in-hand with that.”

  Charlie was into his second beer. “This all sounds good in theory, but it’s gonna take a ton of research, warrants, and paperwork to make the case.”

  I agreed. “The FBI and IRS will need to be involved. Unraveling a thirty-year-old con game will be complicated. There are millions of dollars at stake, not to mention the reputations and freedom of those involved.”

  After we chewed on all this for a few minutes, Natalie referenced my earlier summary of our interview with Gloria Stallings. “Do you think Cassie’s mum knew about the dummy corporations and the drug dealing?”

  “I think Gloria Stallings knows much more than she let on, maybe even who killed John Carmichael and their daughter. That’s a piece of the puzzle that still needs to be developed.”

  “Once everything is out in the open, Jessica and I can bring her in,” Charlie said. “See if we can break her.”

  I gave my former partner the stare of death. “Jessica?”

  Charlie set down his empty beer can, splayed his hands. “I don’t like it any better than you. Jankowitz told me I had no choice. Jessica Barlow’s been temporarily assigned to the warrant desk as my partner until your case is settled.”

  “I can’t believe this.”

  I turned away from him, thought about wa
lking away to blow off steam, but didn’t want to put any weight on my injured ankle. Jessica working with Charlie felt like the ultimate betrayal.

  “What about me?” Charlie said. “Jessica won’t let me smoke or cuss without making a federal case. She’s got a hot poker up her tight ass about everything I do. She’s making my life miserable.”

  I refused to look at him. There was stony silence as Pearl and Natalie worked on the DVD player in the house. Charlie ignored the impasse by walking away and smoking a cigarette.

  After a few minutes, Pearl called us together in the living room and said, “Let’s see what Days of Destiny was all about.”

  For the next hour we watched as a series of unedited scenes rolled by. The shooting script and resulting scenes were out of order, but the plot dealt with the lives of two college couples in the early days of the Vietnam War. The movie focused on their relationships and how the opposition to the war was affecting their lives.

  I thought the script had potential and, despite the film’s probable low budget, the acting was fair and earnest. When the film ended, we watched for a moment after the screen went blank. There were no credits listed.

  “Guy had talent,” Charlie said, referring to Carmichael. “Too bad he got popped before it was finished.”

  “Doesn’t seem like it helps us with anything,” Natalie said. “We’re still wafflin’ around in the dark like a buncha wet nellies.”

  Pearl pushed some buttons on the remote. “Maybe not. Lot of things can change in thirty years, including a person’s name and appearance.”

  We watched as Pearl moved to a scene in the film that showed several actors in a group shot. He froze the frame. “Notice anyone familiar?”

  “I must be missing something,” Charlie said, shaking his head.

  Pearl let the scene move forward. One of the actors played a marine recruiter, who was talking to a young man of draft age. They become embroiled in an argument about whether the war was justified. The scene ended with the young college student telling the marine that his brother had been killed in the war. Pearl froze the scene as the camera focused in on the student’s face.

  “Now I see it!” I shouted.

  “What?” Charlie demanded. “I don’t see nothing but a skinny kid with a beard.”

  I hobbled over to the television and pointed to the actor. “Imagine him with his head shaved, no beard, and about three hundred pounds heavier.”

  “I’m about to widdle me pants,” Natalie shouted. “It’s Wolf Donovan!”

  Charlie finally saw it as well. “I’ll be damned.”

  We all went silent for a moment. I hopped back to my chair and sat down.

  Pearl speculated that Donovan may have gone by another name when he began his acting career.

  “The stage name and his altered appearance would explain why Carmichael’s secretary never recognized him. He would’ve been just another small time actor starting out.”

  The others chimed in, but I tuned out the discussion. Our case, like the pieces of a kaleidoscope that had been broken and scattered on the floor, was beginning to come together for me. My heart raced as I considered the possibilities.

  Nothing that happened had been a coincidence. Everything had been orchestrated, then covered up for over thirty years.

  “You okay?” Charlie asked.

  The corners of my mouth turned up. I brushed the frizzies off my forehead and looked at my friends. “Some things are falling into place for me, and I’d like to run them down to you all.”

  Charlie got another beer and said, “Go for it.”

  “I believe everything that’s happened over the past several days has been designed to protect two things. First, to protect the drug empire that we know Harper and Kane began. Secondly, to protect the identity of the third party in that enterprise—Wolf Donovan.”

  “That’s one hell of a leap,” Charlie said.

  “Maybe, but let me go back to where this all began. We know that Cassie Reynolds was murdered and Jack Bautista was framed, but I think the frame was more of a coincidence than an intentional setup.”

  Pearl killed the television. “Jack was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Speaking of Jack,” Natalie said, “is he still in the slammer?”

  “He waived extradition, should be in our jail in a day or two.” I went back to my theory. “I believe the plan was to murder Cassie because she had learned about the money laundering scheme and Diamond’s involvement with Harper and Kane. Along the way, Cassie also learned there was a long ago third party who wanted to stop what Harper and Kane were up to—her father.”

  “But Carmichael formed the original corporation with Harper,” Charlie said. “He had to know about the drug dealing.”

  “I don’t think so. I remember his secretary telling us that Harper was the money man and Carmichael went along for the ride. She also said something about Carmichael just scraping by, that he wasn’t sophisticated about finances. I think Harper may have used Carmichael to set things in motion, without the young filmmaker knowing what he was really up to.”

  Pearl followed along. “And when Carmichael found out that instead of producing his film, the corporation had really been set up to launder drugs, it got him killed.”

  I nodded and then went back to Bautista’s involvement. “When Jack showed up, the shooter got spooked. He used the situation to murder Cassie and set up Jack. It was a pretty good frame, but it wasn’t thought through. It created a new problem—what did Cassie tell Jack before she died? It was a loose end that had to be tied up.”

  “Hence, the attempted shooting of Jack by Drake,” Pearl said.

  Charlie shook his head and belched. “Doesn’t add up. They would never have sent Drake to do the hit with another cop around, even if he’s been a party to everything.”

  “It does,” I said, “if you consider that the hit on Bautista wasn’t planned for the day it was attempted. Remember, I got the tip about where Jack was staying from Barry Eckstein on my way out of court. I planned to call the taskforce, but when I picked up Drake after his car broke down and told him what Eckstein had said, he insisted we check out the Pinewood Apartments first. When we were searching the complex, he saw Bautista and acted impulsively.”

  “Prematurely shot his wad off,” Natalie said. “Reminds me of a guy named Jerry Wallace…”

  I shook my head. “Not now, Natalie.” I continued. “Drake probably thought he could get away with shooting Jack while I was searching the apartments.”

  “He’d still have the problem of Jack not shooting back,” Charlie said.

  “He probably would have found the gun on Jack after he shot him, tossed it near his body, and said Jack had pulled it during the confrontation. Or he could’ve had a throw-down gun he would have left at the scene.”

  “And when Drake’s attempt to shoot Jack failed,” Pearl said, “he claimed you interfered. The shell casings were planted to make it look like Jack had shot back, so Drake could say he acted within policy.”

  “Yes, but there’s more to it. The others became worried about what Jack might have told me, so they bugged my apartment and began trying to intimidate me. They tried to run me off the road and nearly ran me down in a parking lot, before they paid an actor to warn me off the case. When I persisted, Kane made a direct threat about Robin being in danger. Eventually my brother was set up on drug charges.”

  Natalie said, “Unless I’m off me trolley, this means Kane and Donovan are now workin’ together to keep things covered up.”

  “With Drake acting as the enforcer, at least until Kane got back in town,” I agreed.

  Charlie said, “I’m worried. After what happened last night, they’re not going to stop at anything to keep this covered up.”

  “Worry won’t accomplish anything, Charlie,” I said. “It’s time we had a talk with Wolf Donovan.”

  My former partner was out of his chair. “You can
’t do that, Kate. We need to go to the department now, maybe take this right to the top. We can get warrants, look at the financial records, and bring Kane and Donovan down.”

  I said, “Yeah, maybe we should just wait around for you and Jessica to wrap things up, say in six months or so after I’ve been fired.”

  “Kate, that’s not what I meant.”

  I ignored Daddy Charlie as Natalie spoke up, quoting one of Donovan’s famous lines from the spy thriller, Deadly Rhapsody, “No more games. No more talk. It’s time to rock.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

   

  Kane lies in bed, trying to recover from the bullet that exploded through his thigh. He’s lost a lot of blood and thinks the bullet nicked an artery.

  After the chase, a couple of phone calls secured the dingy motel room. His leg is loosely wrapped in an improvised tourniquet and bandaged, but that hasn’t stopped the bleeding or the pain. A hot poker burns in his thigh and his head. A fistful of Vicodin finally cuts the pain, but leaves him groggy.

  Kane turns on the television and watches, drifting in and out of consciousness. When he wakes up, it’s almost midnight. The pain is better, but his leg still throbs with every heartbeat. He takes a breath and sits up when he sees his picture on the television screen. He turns up the volume, listening to the announcer.

  The Los Angeles Police Department has just released this photograph of a man known as Nathan Kane. He was recently released from prison, but is wanted for parole violations related to the disappearance of a woman in Fresno. If you have any information regarding this suspect, please call the department’s warrant taskforce at the number on the bottom of your screen.

  Kane kills the sound. How did they link him to the dead psychiatrist? Maybe he left a fingerprint or some other evidence in her office. Or, it could be someone saw him leaving the residence. It doesn’t matter now.

  His mind drifts. He fantasizes about what it would have been like to be with Kate Sexton and the little blonde bitch. The night would have been exquisite. He’s run the scenario of killing Sexton over in his mind at least a hundred times since their meeting in prison.