Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

After I finished my interview with Chloe Bryant at HSS, Pearl agreed to give me a ride back to Santa Monica to get my car. By the time we got to the ocean, the sun had already set
, and I was exhausted.

We’d gotten a lot of information about
Myra, her cult, and what Chloe had described as an Internet game of murder, but the case had taken on layers of complexity that made me feel like we were a long way from breaking it.

Late in the day, the local police in Santa Monica informed us that the body of a man was found at a house overlooking the pier. His throat had been slashed and his clothing removed. When they determined he was a pier maintenance worker some of the taskforce members had been dispatched to pour over the scene.

“Have you ever heard of the name, Azazel?” I asked Pearl.

“We did an Internet search while you interviewed Chloe. The name was given to one of the earliest manifestations of a
creature who was supposedly a god of the darkness or evil. It goes pretty far back in antiquity.”

“Hearing Chlo
e’s story makes me realize there’s a whole lot more to this case than we’d ever imagined.”

Pearl nodded. “Skully’s planning on calling a meeting of the joint taskforce with the feds tomorrow. A guy named, Byron Ellington is going to head up things on the FBI side. Maybe it will help.”

“I haven’t had the best of luck working with the feds…” I chuckled. “…or Skully, for that matter.”

Pearl’s silver hair reflected in the headlights of the oncoming cars as he turned into the parking
lot near the pier. “Skully already had five years on the job when I joined the force. Rumor had it that his wife ran off with a plumber. The guy was never right after that.”

“Maybe th
at explains his hatred of women.” Despite my fatigue I felt too keyed up to sleep. “You interested in a nightcap, Pearl? My treat.”

“
I think I’ll pass. Tonight, I’m feeling my age. I’m going home, getting into my PJ’s, and trying to forget about the world for about eight hours.” He smiled. “I suggest you try and do the same.”

I knew that
Pearl was right, but I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep given everything that had happened. I drove out of the parking lot as my phone rang. It was Natalie.

“
Could you do me and Mo a big favor and give us a ride home from Voodoo Mama,” Natalie asked. “Mo’s Vespa’s in the shop.”

I’d almost forgotten about Natalie taking a job at the Hollywood goth-shop. She didn’t drive due to her failure to pass the DMV driving test. Since I knew my insomnia would be in high gear, I decided to take the opportunity to see what her new job was all about.

“I’m leaving Santa Monica now,” I explained. I can be there in about half an hour.”

I found Voodoo Mama on Melrose, less than ten minutes from my apartment. The shop was dark, except for blue and red neon lights shining dimly from the storefront.

I stopped, examining the display windows that illuminated various costumes posed on some zombie-looking mannequins. The brand names included something called, Murderdoll, Trinity, and Morpheus.

A cloud of incense hit me when I opened the door.
The store was almost empty, except for three or four customers milling about.

One of the patrons, a thin young man who looked like a cross between Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow and Alice Cooper, turned to me and said, “Cop in the shop.”

A woman came over. In an English accent, she said to me, “Fraid you’re sticking out like a happy stick in a cathouse.”

“Natalie?” I said, at the same time realizing that my plastic ID badge was still pinned to my shirt. I removed the badge and stepped back to take in her outfit.

My blonde, girl next door, friend had been transformed into a dark-haired woman dressed in a red and black lace tutu, a black satin top, and black opera gloves. She had enough black makeup on to make it look like she worked a rack at Jiffy Lube. Despite the getup, Natalie was beautiful in a dominatrix sort of way.

“Name’s, Lolita,” she said, lowering her voice. She pouted and motioned to the obnoxious customer. “Got me a whip and a chair if this poser needs a lesson.”

We both turned and saw the Depp-Cooper freak standing a couple of feet away from us, now with his hands on his hips. “You gonna arrest me or what?” he demanded. “I planned on clearing the traffic warrants tomorrow.”

I brushed a hand through my
frizzy hair and sighed. Why don’t crooks have the common sense to hide out when they’re supposed to?

“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ll let you go if you promise to take your bony-freak ass out on the street, walk home, and have your mother tuck you into bed for the night.”

“You didn’t have to insult me,” the young man said, breaking into tears and scurrying out the door.

Natalie shrugged. “High maintenance twinks. They’re the worst.”

I heard a voice behind the counter say, “You ladies gonna just stand there and ignore the Big Mama?”

I turned and saw
Mo standing next to a cash register. She had on a tight red bustier that looked like it could launch the girls into a high earth orbit. The leather pants, streaked red and pink hair, all seemed an afterthought given the breast sling-shot on her upper torso.

“I didn’t know you’d also signed on for extra work?” I said.

“I’m the enforcer,” Mo explained. “These vampire mutants try and bite baby sis, I jam a stick in their mouths.”

I had no doubt that Mo meant what she said.

Natalie said to Mo, “I’m gonna take Kate back to meet with Prissy for a moment if you’ll mind the freaks.”

Mo shrugged and pulled a magazine from beneath the counter. “Take your time.”

Natalie led me past a couple of dark curtains until we were in the back of the store where I saw there were boxes, racks of clothing, and a couple of display mannequins that the store owner was working on.

“This is Priscilla Pettibone,” Natalie said by way of introduction.

Priscilla stood. I found myself looking up into the grinning face of a six foot-five inch woman. At least, I thought it was a woman. She or he had the flat, but earnest face of a dog I once knew that always jumped on me, as if to say, “Like me, please!”

Natalie must have seen my confusion and whispered, “She’s got a sock in the box.” She apparently still wasn’t s
ure that I got it. “Prissy’s a tranny.”

“I’m so…pleased to…meet you
,” Priscilla said in a high pitched staccato voice that made it sound like he had the hiccups from inhaling helium.

The owner of Voodoo Mama w
ore a black leather skirt and a form-fitting, see-through mesh blouse that didn’t really reveal anything because I wasn’t sure if there was anything to reveal. A spiked collar, skull necklace, and orange hair complemented the ensemble.

We made small talk for a minute after Natalie and I took a seat at the table where Pr
issy, as he wanted to be called, dressed the dummies for a new window display.

Prissy finished up with the mannequins and said, “I’m so happy that Natalie and Mo have come to work here. It reminds me of my dress-up parties when I was a boy.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Natalie said to me, “Prissy knows why we’re working here. She’s game to help out any way that she can.”

“I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if I may,” I said to Prissy. “But, please keep in mind that everything we discuss here is strictly confidential.”

“I’m the mouse in the house,” he said, giggling. “My dad was a vice cop in Baltimore when I grew up. I’ve always had a place in my heart for law enforcement.”

“We’re investigating a case involving a woman named
Myra,” I said. “We have reason to believe that she may be the leader of a cult.” I gave him the first names of the cult members which was all I knew, and told him about Chloe Bryant.

Prissy’s narrow shoulders shrugged. “I know this is about the Occult Killer. It’s been all over TV. The names don’t ring a bell, but I’ll give it some thought and certainly keep my eyes open. We get all kinds in here.”

I had no doubt about that. I brought out the most recent artist’s rendering of Myra, based upon a description Harley Porter had given us. The police artist had told us the sketch was a best guess because Porter wasn’t able to provide much detail on the facial features due to Myra’s heavy make-up.

Prissy studied the drawing before handing it back to me. “It’s hard to say. She doesn’t look familiar but, again, there are so many of these types that I see. I’ll think about it.”

I then showed him the artist rendering of the leather masks worn at the Trevon Jackson murder scene.

“Wow, these are way cool.
” He stood and motioned us into a back room. “Let me show you our Dom and Diva line.”

We trailed behind him until Natalie and I were standing in a small storage room full of dominatrix supplies. Natalie went over and pulled out some kind of harness with leather straps that had a ball attached.

“Not sure where the ball goes,” Natalie said, holding it against her tutu. “In fact, I’m not sure where the harness attaches.”

Prissy giggled. “Silly girl, you really need to spice it up in the bedroom.”

That was the last thing Natalie needed. Prissy pulled the harness over his head but didn’t fasten it. The red ball dangled in front of his face.

“When the game gets serious,
” Prissy said, “the ball goes in the mouth.”

“Oh.
” Natalie turned to me and shrugged. “Guess I was thinking ‘bout trying to saddle the horse from the wrong end.”

Prissy removed the device
and went on to show us ankle restraints, a leather penis sheath, whips, riding crops, paddles, and a leather hood. “The hood is one of our most popular items, but it’s different than the one in your drawing.”

I examined it and saw that it had red stitching, but the cutouts for the eyes and mouth were different from the artist’s rendering of the one
Myra had used.

“Very intimidating,” I said, handing it back to him. “But you’re right. It’s no match.”

“There are lots of suppliers for these kinds of masks. I’ll look through some catalogues, see if I can come up with anything that’s a match.”

We returned to the general supply room where we spent the next twenty minutes chatting about Voodoo Mama. I learned that Prissy hoped to someday open a nationwide chain of the stores, creating something he called a, freak-franchise for goth entrepreneurs.

After we said our goodbyes, we walked to my car chatting about the establishment. Natalie’s enthusiasm for her new job was still evident.

“Had me a load of fun muck’n ‘
round in the smock ‘n mask store,” Natalie said. “I think I might go mad for this gothic business. Maybe it’s time to give up being a muggle.”

“Yeah,” Mo agreed. “Nat’s thinking of going over to the dark side.”

“I’m sure Clyde would love that,” I said, unlocking the car.

Natalie
opened the door. “He just needs a pair of razor cut pants and a leather vest. He’ll fit right in. Might even get him one of them cock socks.”

I couldn’t hel
p but laugh at that, but then realized by the look on Natalie’s face that she might be serious. Just the thought of old Clyde with a…never mind.

“Did you guys make it to Karma’s today?” I asked
, changing the subject as we pulled away from the curb. “I’m just wondering if you’ve gotten to know any of the staff working there, besides Earl.”

“All I know is
Earl’s a squirrel who’s a little too happy with his nuts,” Mo said. “The guy’s using his position to get to know all the celebs and groupies. He’s also dabbling in more than the body juice, if you know what I mean.”

“He’s dealing drugs?”

Mo shook her head. “Supplies ‘em for free, just so that he can get access to parties and clubs. He’s a player, looking to score with the ladies.”

“Maybe the tootsie roll still has some chocolate in it,” Natalie suggested.

“What about Vee and the other staff?” I asked Natalie as I turned onto the street where they lived. “Any thoughts on anyone who might be suspicious, maybe a danger to Karma?”

“Vee spends all her time fuss’n
over Karma. Had me a couple a chats with Karma’s driver, Bobby Collins. Nice enough chap. He told me basically what Mo said about Earl, that he’s up to no good. I’m still checking out some of the wait staff, butlers, and the like.” As I pulled to the curb Natalie added, “I know you’re not keen on it, but Robin’s checking out some of the hair staff. Karma’s got more wigs than a British courtroom.”

“Do me
a favor and keep an eye on him,” I said, feeling the tension in my neck as I rolled my shoulders. “He tends to wade in a little deeper than he should sometimes.”

Natalie must have seen my stress. “Mo
and me got the day off tomorrow. We’re going to Karma’s day spa, Buddha’s Bodyworks. Since we work for Karma, it’s free and we can bring a friend. Why don’t you join us if you’ve got a free hour in the afternoon? Let ‘em work out the kinks.”