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

We divided up duties after the meeting, with Darby and Mel agreeing to let Leo and me go to Klondike Studios, while they met with Campbell Turner’s parents again. Darby wasn’t happy with the arrangement, but Mel thought her experience with Media Relations might help her convince Castello that we were actively working the case and expecting results soon. I didn’t have the same confidence, but saw no reason not to let her try and calm down our victim’s father.

As we drove to Klondike Studios, Leo and I again talked about the photograph of Pearl and my bio-mom. I then told him about Joe Dawson’s phone call. “I guess I’ll fill in Edna, the chief, and the rest of the brass about the FBI setting up shop in our neck of the woods at this afternoon’s meeting.”

“There’s still a great deal of fear about what happened in New York,” Leo said. “If the press finds out the Swarm is in this area, it’s going to create all kinds of hysteria.”

I thought about my meeting with Jenson Moore in just two days. “All the more reason to get a head start on things.”

“What do you think they want?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The Swarm. What’s their end game?”

I exhaled and took a moment to consider his question. “I can’t say for sure, but I think they’re like other terrorist organizations. They want power and control and to impose their way of life on everyone else. It’s less about an ideology or belief than it is about power.”

Leo’s dark eyes met me for a moment and he nodded. “Your sister’s very brave for what she’s done, trying to stop them.”

“I know. I just hope we can get her out and get her safe.” Even as I said the words, I didn’t have a clue how to do that. For all I knew, Moore was holding Lindsay in some secret location and torturing her. Just the thought of her at the hands of the madman filled me with despair.

Klondike Studios was built by the descendants of Walter Strunk, who made his fortune in Alaska, buying up every gold mining claim he could get his hands on. His fortune wasn’t made by finding gold, but rather by leasing the mining claims to prospectors. His great grandson pursued a similar strategy, leasing out the numerous sound stages he’d inherited to production companies. I’d read somewhere that Steven Strunk was worth close to a billion dollars.

After checking in at a security gate, Leo and I were directed to the studio’s administrative offices, where we met with Hannah Montague, the vice-president of operations. The studio executive looked like she was in her mid-thirties. She had purple hair, a sleeve of tattoos, and was wearing a short, dark skirt and semi-transparent blouse. Montague was attractive, in a punk-rocker kind of way. After some small talk about Bernie, we took seats in her office and got down to business.

“I can’t believe Campbell’s gone,” Montague said. “She was the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met, not to mention the hardest worker. We’ve been shooting her show daily for the past month because of scheduling issues and she never missed a day.”

“I take it they weren’t shooting her show on the day Campbell was murdered,” I said.

“It was the first day we were dark...not shooting, in weeks.”

We learned that the studio was running at full capacity, trying to get shows taped before the fall television season began. Leo then asked about Luke Morgan. “It’s our understanding he was infatuated with her, sent her flowers, and asked her out for coffee.”

“Really?” Montague took a moment, her eyes losing focus. “We’ve done a little internal review of things. Luke was a stagehand, helping with sets. If he was infatuated with Campbell, I’m not sure when or how that happened.”

“Were any of your staff aware he was sending her flowers?” I asked.

“The flowers did come up. It was her birthday, and I’m told he brought in one of those five dollar bouquets you can buy at Trader Joe’s. Our staff thought it was kind of sweet.” She looked at Leo. “I can’t speak to him asking her out for coffee.”

Leo lowered his voice. “What we’re about to discuss is confidential. There may be a man working here. All we know is that he goes by the name Garth…”

“Garth Henry?”

“Perhaps. Can you tell us about his duties here?”

“He’s one of the script consultants for Campbell’s show. They worked together almost every day.”

“Would he happen to be on the property today?” I asked. “We’d like to talk to him.”

Montague picked up her phone. “I’m sure he’s on site. Let me call him.”

“No, please.” I looked at Leo, back at her. “Would it be possible for us to go directly to his office? I’d rather that he not know in advance we’re here.”

Montague’s brow tightened. “What exactly is this about?”

“We’ll fill you in as soon as we talk to him,” Leo said. He stood. “If you’ll have someone show us the way.”

Montague insisted on taking us to Garth Henry’s office, along the way telling us he was one of their most valuable employees. “He’s been with the studio for a couple of decades. He’s worked on
Stolen Desires
almost exclusively for the past three years.”

We were headed down a hallway, leading to the soundstage where Campbell’s soap opera was filmed, when Montague called out to a man leaving an office. “Garth, these detectives need to talk to you.”

Garth Henry turned, glanced in our direction, then took off like someone who was running for his life.

Leo and I made our way past Montague and followed Garth Henry down the hallway. He barreled through a door, and we ended up on an empty soundstage, where he continued to sprint away from us.

“Stop!” Leo called out. “We just want to talk.”

Henry ignored us and my warning to release Bernie if he didn’t comply. It was a bluff. While Henry was running from us, he was only wanted for questioning, and I had no basis to use force. 

When Henry got to the rear of the soundstage, he tripped over some wiring and went head over heels. We closed the distance to him in seconds. I held Bernie back as he released a deep menacing growl, wanting a piece of our suspect.

“Get him away!” Henry screamed, kicking his legs at my dog. His hand went into his coat pocket.

“Gun!” I screamed as I saw that our suspect had a weapon he was trying to aim at my dog. I launched myself at Henry, knocking the weapon out of his hand. Bernie took the opportunity to help out, clamping down on his leg.

Once Leo had the gun in his possession, I took my time calling Bernie off. By the time Henry was handcuffed, and Bernie had settled down, a small crowd had gathered around. After calling for an ambulance to treat our suspect’s superficial wounds, Leo searched him, finding several dime bags of heroin.

Garth Henry was about fifty, overweight, and bald. He didn’t fit the profile of your typical heroin dealer, but I knew that the popularity of the drug and the money that came with selling it had made inroads into all walks of life.

“Doing a little side business at work?” Leo asked him, as Hannah Montague arrived.

“What’s that?” Montague asked, seeing the half dozen small cellophane baggies of white powder on the floor.

“Your employee has been selling heroin,” Leo said.

“Are you kidding?” Montague looked at Henry. “You’re fired.”

“I can explain…” Henry began moaning. “…but I need medical help first.”

“An ambulance is on the way,” I said. “They’ll make sure you’re healthy enough to go to jail.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Really?” I said. “How about resisting arrest, attempted assault with a deadly weapon, and possession of heroin for sale?”

Three hours later, after Garth Henry had been medically cleared for booking, he’d been transported to Hollywood Station for an interview. Darby and Mel had spent a fruitless afternoon, unable to locate either of our victims’ parents. They were down the hall watching our interview on a closed circuit monitor. I was still angry over our suspect’s attitude and actions, so I let Leo handle the questioning.

After Henry waived his rights, Leo began by asking him about the heroin he had in his possession.

Most of the bluster had gone out of our suspect as he answered. “I needed the money, and…” He sniffed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m sorry. I know it was wrong and stupid.”

“Who is your supplier?”

Henry sniffed. “I usually just buy at the park from whoever is dealing, then resell it.”

I knew it was a lie, but decided to keep quiet, for now.

“Let’s talk about who you sold to at the studio,” Leo said. “In particular, we want to know about Campbell Turner.”

Henry’s pupils dilated. He took a moment to answer. “She just bought now and then.”

Leo shook his head. “We need you to level with us. You’re in big trouble. If you cooperate, things might go easier on you. We know that Campbell was a regular user and you were her dealer.”

Henry sighed and shook his head. “We had an arrangement. She bought what she needed a couple of times a week.”

“And how much did she need?” I asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

Perspiration popped on his forehead. “Sometimes a half-dozen bags, a few times more than that.”

“Why?”

Henry looked at me. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You knew Campbell for several years. What was going on with her that she needed heroin?”

Henry’s gaze moved off and he shrugged. “I’m not sure…she seemed really unhappy. I think it had something to do with her family.”

“Her family,” Leo said. “You mean her boyfriend?”

He nodded. “Maybe that was part of it.”

“Was Blake Lambert also using?”

“She said they sometimes shared.” Henry took a moment, then went on. “It’s just a guess, but I think he was cheating on her.”

“Do you know who he was seeing?”

He shook his head.

“What about Luke Morgan?” Leo asked. “Were he and Campbell involved?”

Henry chuckled. “No way. He was…I think he liked her, but he was just a kid.”

“Any thoughts on why he might have gone by her house on the day he and Campbell were killed?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

I had the sense Henry was holding something back and decided to find out what it was. I raised my voice. “Here’s the deal, Mr. Henry. I’m going to personally talk to the DA and see that he pushes for the maximum sentence allowable in your case.”

He started to cry. “I don’t understand. I’ve told you everything…”

“You’ve told us what you wanted to tell us. We need to know what was really going on with Campbell Turner, or it won’t be easy for you.”

His tears came harder. “I don’t know, exactly. Like I said, she was really unhappy because of her family.”

“You already said that—because of her cheating boyfriend.”

“No. I think it was more than that. Campbell said once that something bad happened a long time ago. Whatever it was, I think she was hiding from that.”

After arranging for the transport officers to take Garth Henry to jail, Leo and I made the drive to the Police Administrative Building in Los Angeles for our meeting with Chief Dunbar. We were a few minutes early, so we stopped by to see Woody Horton and Harry Braden.

“How goes life in the glass tower?” Leo said, as we took seats in their office.

“Not bad if you like lots of hot air,” Woody said.

“Not to mention ass kissing,” Harry added.

Woody looked at me and lowered his voice. “To tell you the truth, we’re spinning our wheels here, Kate. As you know, the search of Ryland’s house turned up squat, and Pearl’s still in the wind.”

“Speaking of Pearl,” I said, “Leo and I went by his house last night, just to see if there was any sign of him having been home.” I handed over the photograph we found. “Everything looked the same as before, but we found this in a box that was above an access panel at the top of his closet. It’s a picture of Pearl and my biological mother, Judie Crawford, taken more than thirty years ago.”

The two detectives studied the photo for a moment. “You said this was in a box?” Harry said.

I nodded. “With a few other miscellaneous photos. I can send them your way, if you’d like, but I didn’t recognize anyone in them.”

“We’d like to take a look,” Woody said. “It’s not like we’ve got anything else to go on.”

“Any thoughts on why Pearl would have this photograph?” Harry asked.

“Not sure. It might be that he is my father, but it’s impossible to say for sure.” I then told them I would send the other photographs to them and mentioned what Mo had told me. “Rumor has it that Harlee Ryland and Brett Denver, the washed up actor, have been hooking up. He’s also a Tauist, from what they told me. As you probably know, Denver’s bad news. Nothing good will come of their relationship.”

“We did hear some buzz about that,” Woody said. “We’ll check it out further and try and find out if he has some ulterior motive.”

We said our goodbyes and made our way to the sixth floor for our meeting with Dunbar. As it turned out, the meeting was attended by most of the chief’s immediate command staff and Media Relations, along with Captain Dembowski and Lieutenant Edna. We spent the first half hour going over our progress on the case and telling them that Campbell was a heroin addict, before discussing the arrest of Garth Henry.

“Henry admitted dealing heroin to Campbell for years,” I said. “He also said he thought Lambert was cheating on her.”

“Did he say with who?” Dunbar asked.

Our new police chief was a wiry man, with a serious expression and steel gray hair, cut short. The word hard-ass came to mind whenever I saw him.

“Henry didn’t know,” Leo said, “but he also said that Campbell was a very unhappy young woman, maybe over some issues in her past.”

“Not good enough,” Dunbar said. “Turner’s father thinks we’re missing something and is planning to go to the press about it. I want more progress. What does Lambert have to say about all this?”

“He’s in seclusion,” Edna said. “Whereabouts unknown.”

“Seclusion,” Dunbar spat. His dark, hard eyes surveyed the room. “I want him found, and I want to know exactly what he knows. I’m having dinner with Jimmy Castello tonight. I’m pretty sure I can get him to hold off on going to the press for twenty-four hours, but we’ve got to shake something loose.”

After Media Relations and some of the command staff left the room, I stayed behind to fill Dunbar in on the latest with the FBI. I then told him, “The feds are planning to send their taskforce to LA within the next week and focus their efforts in this area.”

Dunbar scowled and Leo’s phone was ringing as he said, “I’ve already talked to Greer. You’re cleared to help out because of your sister.” The chief fixed his steely eyes on Leo because he’d taken the call. “Can’t that wait?”

Leo held up a finger and took a moment, telling whoever was on the line that he’d be in touch. “That was our crime analyst,” he said, putting his phone away. “She was just notified that Blake Lambert has been found.”

“It’s about time. I want you to get some answers from him tonight.”

Leo shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”

“Why is that?”

“He’s dead.”