Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (17 page)

I was shocked and touched by what Francesca had told me. While she couldn’t or wouldn’t provide any details about my biological father, she assured me that it was a matter of time until I found him.

After finishing my session, I felt uplifted and spent a few minutes with my mother, telling her about our conversation. I then asked her about Tom Knight and showed her the photograph.

She studied the photo before handing it back to me. “I think I may have seen him with your father, once or twice, but I can’t be sure.”

“Did daddy…” I took a moment, still trying to deal with my emotions, “…did he ever mention him?”

“I can’t be sure. It was so long ago.” She studied me. “What Francesca said…it touched you deeply, didn’t it?”

I nodded. “She’s very…I guess you could say intuitive.”

Her eyes remained fixed on me. I could tell she was struggling with how to respond when she surprised me by saying. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Her gaze drifted off. “For everything…for the way I handled things when you were a child.” She looked at me. “For not telling you the truth about your…your
real
mother. It was so wrong.”

I hugged her, as tears stung my eyes. “I love you, Mom, and I…I think I understand why you…”

“I was jealous.”

I brushed my tears, looked into her watery eyes, and waited for her to go on.

“I was jealous of Judie, the relationship she and your father once had. I know it was wrong, but I was also jealous that she was your biological mother.” She turned away from me and folded her arms. “I made some bad choices because of that…choices that I’ll always regret.” A deep, racking sob followed. “Oh, God, I was such a mess.” She again told me how sorry she was.

I gave her some time to regain her composure, then said, “I think…in some ways, everything that’s happened has been for a reason. I believe what Francesca told me. I’m here to regain my power, as a woman, and do what’s right.”

We held one another, sharing both our grief over what was lost and our happiness at connecting with one another again.

Mom’s watery voice came back to me, saying words that I knew would stay with me for the rest of my life. “I love you, Kate. I’m so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

***

I was on my way home from Mom’s when I got a call from Natalie. “Mo and me are ‘bout to be arrested. We need your help.”

“What’s going on?”

“We did us one of them flash ‘n’ dash events and weren’t quite fast enough to get away. The coppers are here and they’re talkin’ ‘bout takin’ us to jail.”

“Tell me where you are.”

“In front of the courthouse in downtown LA.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“We’ll explain everything when you get here.”

I was exhausted and had no desire to go to Los Angeles, but I would do anything for my friends. Luckily, traffic was light, and I made it to the courthouse in under a half hour. I found Natalie and Mo, with about thirty other women, sitting on the sidewalk. A large crowd had gathered in the street, along with some marked patrol cars and the press.

I showed one of the officers my badge. Bernie and I then made our way over to my friends. “What’s going on?” I demanded.

“We was trying to free that professor who was arrested,” Mo said.

“Who?”

Natalie answered for her. “Dr. Beth Robbins. She’s the college professor who led that protest against the judge who gave that dirty rotten rapist a ninety-day sentence. She was arrested and is still in jail.”

I now made the connection to the case that had recently made the national news. A USC student had been raped, and her attacker was given a ridiculously light sentence. After the victim had posted a blog on the Internet about the crime and the effect it had on her, Dr. Robbins had become an outspoken critic of the judge, demanding that he be removed from the bench. She’d been arrested during a protest and had refused to post bail as a way of publicizing the case.

“What exactly did you do?” I asked.

“We got us a flash mob goin’,” Natalie explained. “It was based on that song from the movie
Frozen.”

Mo gave me a brief rendition of their version of the song. “We sang,
let her go, let her go
, then we all just sat down in the street, frozen in place.” She looked over at the officers who were huddled on the sidewalk. “They said what we did was an illegal demonstration and we’re all goin’ to jail.”

Natalie stood and belted out, “Let us go…let us go.” Some other women joined in, and in a moment, the tune was being sung by all the demonstrators who stood on the sidewalk as though they were frozen in place.

I saw that everything was being captured by the reporters as I made my way over to a lieutenant who I recognized from a training session we’d attended together. After I said hello, I explained why I was there, then asked him what was going to happen to the demonstrators.

“We’re waiting on word from the higher-ups, but it looks like they’re all going to jail.”

“Are you kidding me? For singing a song in the street?”

“You know the rules. They should have gotten a permit.” He lowered his voice. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”

I walked away, angry that the department didn’t have the sense to simply send the protestors on their way and forget everything. That’s when a reporter who recognized me came over.

“Would you care to make a statement regarding what’s going on here tonight?” Cynthia McFadden said. 

McFadden was with the
Herald-Press
, and, unlike most reporters, we had a good working relationship. She’d even helped me out with a source that was crucial to an investigation a few months back.

I started to give her my standard no comment reply, when I remembered what Francesca had said earlier about finding my power. I was also sympathetic to Dr. Robbins and her protest of the outrageous sentence that had been imposed on a rapist.

I knew there would be repercussions, but decided to say exactly what was on my mind. “These women were exercising their rights as citizens to peacefully protest what, in their opinion, was an unjust sentence for a brutal crime. They should be commended for their actions, not arrested.”

“But isn’t this what’s called an illegal assembly?” McFadden asked. “Shouldn’t there be a consequence for that?”

“That’s not my decision to make. All I can say is that they stood up for justice and for the rights of a victim. As far as I’m concerned, that makes them all heroes.”

I don’t know if it was my interview, or divine intervention, or if the department, for once, had made the right call, but shortly after my interview the protestors were sent on their way, without any arrests being made.

After everything was over, my friends and I decided to grab a late dinner at a nearby restaurant. After ordering drinks, Natalie said, “You were the bomb, Kate. You can be part of our next flash ‘n’ dash event.”

“I doubt that’s going to happen, especially if I want to keep my job.”

Mo hoisted her drink and said, “Here’s to doing the right thing, even when it gets you into a shitload of trouble.”

We all clinked glasses and laughed, then spent the next hour chatting about our day. I took a few minutes and filled them in on my meeting with Francesca and told them about the conversation Mom and I had afterwards.

“All things considered, I couldn’t be happier about the session with the psychic and me getting back with Mom,” I said.

“I like what that Francesca woman said about power,” Mo said. “Maybe she’s right. It could be that God’s plan is for you to find your true power.”

“Maybe that’s Her plan for all of us,” Natalie said, giggling.

Mo hoisted her glass again. “I’ll drink to that.”

We eventually ordered another round of drinks, and the conversation drifted to the photograph of Tom Knight that Woody and Harry had given me earlier. I showed them the photo and told them about his strange disappearance. “The detectives think he may have known Pearl and my adoptive dad. We speculated that my dad might have even shared what he knew about the embezzlement at Wallace Studios and Jean Winslow’s death with him.”

“You think Ryland and Russell whacked him?” Natalie asked.

“I don’t know what to think,” I said. “All I know is that it’s another piece of a very big puzzle.”

“When you find Pearl, maybe he can tell you more,” Mo said.

“
If
I find Pearl.”

We spent a few minutes talking about their PI work and their part-time acting roles on their sit-com,
Hollywood Girlz
. Natalie’s plans to pay back her boyfriend for cheating on her then came up.

“Howie’s gonna come by this week and help us plan everything,” Natalie said. “Since he’s been workin’ as one of Izzy’s assistants, he’s perfect for helpin’ me pay back Izzy.” She smiled, running a finger over the edge of her glass. “He’s also not bad to look at.”

Mo’s wide forehead scrunched up. She looked at me. “You wanna tell her, or should I?”

“Tell her what?”

Mo looked at Natalie. “Kate’s decided to go with you to see that relationship therapist. She thinks it will help you both out with making good decisions.”

I started to protest, but Mo shook her head and gave me a hard stare. She was clearly sending me a message about going with Natalie to keep her from becoming involved with Howie.

Natalie slapped me on the back. “That’s great news, Kate. Maybe you can find a new guy and you can double date with Howie and me.”

Mo did the world’s biggest eye roll and shook her head. “Yeah, maybe Kate can also find somebody with multiple personalities, baby sis.”

Natalie looked at me and winked. “I got me a feelin’ it will be like havin’ sex with a different guy every time we do it.”

“Swell,” I said, thinking about the personalities Howie had already demonstrated. “A teenage boy one night, then Norman Bates, followed by a little boy candy. What could be better?”

I was getting ready for work the next morning when Joe Dawson called. “Just confirming I’ll be in your neck of the woods in a few days, Buttercup. I’m planning to fly in on Sunday. How are things with you?”

“Working cases and trying to stay out of trouble. How’s the shoulder?”

“Like new. I’ve been following up on a few leads regarding Mr. Moore. We definitely think he’s in the LA area, maybe with your sister.”

My heart was beating against my ribcage as I thought about tomorrow’s meeting with the terrorist. “Los Angeles is a big city. Do you have anything more specific?”

“I’m hoping to be able to fill in a few blanks when I get there.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, when he changed the subject. “Anything new with your father?”

I told him about the photo of Pearl with Tom Knight. “Apparently he knew both my father and Pearl and went missing a few weeks before my dad was killed.”

“You think there’s a connection?”

“Not sure, but for a law enforcement officer to walk away from his patrol car in the middle of the night and never come back, something bad was definitely going on.”

“And Pearl?”

“Nothing new, but the department has assigned a couple of our better detectives to the investigation, so I keep hoping something will break.”

We chatted a few minutes longer before he brought up what I decided was the real reason for his call. “I was just wondering if…” He hesitated, and I could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully. “…if you would like to have dinner Sunday night.”

It was now my turn to hesitate. While we were friends, something in his tone told me this was different, like maybe he was asking me out on a date. I quickly dismissed the thought, deciding I was reading something into a friendly invitation that wasn’t justified.

“Sure,” I said. “Dinner sounds great. Just text me when you get in, and we’ll make plans.”

After the call ended, I still wasn’t sure about the dinner invitation. Joe Dawson was handsome, a good friend, and a terrific cop. We’d become close over the years, but the idea of becoming romantically involved with him had never crossed my mind. Then I remembered a few months back we’d said our goodbyes after working a case together and he’d kissed me. At the time, his intentions had seemed more than a casual sharing of affection between friends. That memory, once again, made me wonder if he was feeling something that I wasn’t.

I again tried to dismiss my concerns as I drove to work with Bernie. When I arrived at the station, Molly stopped by my desk and told me, “I just got some info on the Slayer case and thought you might be interested.”

I motioned to Leo’s chair, which was empty, since he was out again. “Leo’s on medical leave with his granddaughter, so have a seat and tell me what’s going on.”

She set some police reports in front of me and took a seat. After I filled her in on Leo’s family situation, she said, “I finally got what you’re looking at from Taft PD on that 2012 case. The victim was Valerie Quail, age twenty-three. She went missing from a shopping mall. Her body was found about ten miles from the city limits, by an abandoned building near an oil field.”

“Her throat was slashed,” I said, glancing at the first page of the report.

“Yes, after…” She took a moment. “It looks like there were multiple sessions of torture. She was also starved. The body was in a shallow wooden grave, similar to our subjects.”

I sighed. “It has to be the same guy.”

“There’s something else.” Molly motioned to the reports. “Take a look at the photographs on page twelve.”

I glanced at the reports as she said, “A box hook was found in the desert, about a hundred yards from the victim’s body.”

I found the images she was referring to. The metal hook was about eight inches long, with a wooden handle.

Molly continued. “The hook had the victim’s blood on it. It was probably used to drag her or hoist her up.” She took a breath. “It’s a pretty gruesome instrument.”

“I’ve seen similar hooks used by ranch hands to move hay bales.”

She nodded. “It’s also called a cargo hook and is used by longshoremen. There’s even some history of city workers using similar hooks to remove manhole covers. I’ve been wondering if there might be some connection to our suspect’s line of work.”

“It’s possible.” I took a couple more minutes, shuffling through the reports, then looked at her. “Does Edna know about this?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be sending the reports to Markley and Waters, but thought you might want to talk to him first.”

I smiled. “You think the case should stay in Section One.”

“You and I both know if it goes to RHD, and with their workload…” She took a breath. “I’m just afraid the reports will get lost in the shuffle, there won’t be much follow-up.”

“Understood. I’ll talk to the lieutenant after we meet on Campbell…” I lost my train of thought, seeing that Charlie was dragging himself into the station. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes. “See you at the meeting,” I said. “I’m going to check on my former partner.”

Bernie and I walked over to the workstation Charlie occupied in a corner of the office, away from other staff. As I took a seat across from him, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot and he hadn’t shaved. So much for his attempt to change his image and take care of himself.

“How goes it, partner?” I said.

He glanced at me, set a bag of fast food on his desk, and opened a container of coffee. This time there was no smile. “It’s been better.”

“What’s going on?”

He sipped his coffee. “Suzie and me broke up.”

“I’m sorry.” Bernie intently watched him as he removed a breakfast sandwich from his bag and took a bite. I was about to ask him about the breakup when he said, “That medical problem I had went away.”

I nodded. “That’s a good thing.”

“But…” He chewed, “now I can’t…” He swallowed. “...you know.”

I didn’t know, but I thought I might know, and I didn’t want to know.

He went on. “Maybe I should see a doc, after all.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.”

“Can you recommend someone…maybe your doctor?”

“My doctor’s a woman.”

“Oh.” He took another bite, chewed. “I haven’t been to a doctor in about ten years, except for my heart attack.”

I heard Selfie calling out, telling me that the lieutenant was ready to meet.

I turned to her. “Be right there.” I rose and said to Charlie, “I’m sure if you check the Internet, you can find someone.”

“Maybe I should get one of them pumps.”

“A pump?” Even as I asked, it dawned on me what he meant.

“You know, to get things going down there.”

Sure. Maybe you should call the auto club, get a jump start, a new battery, some spark plugs, and a pump.

I exhaled. “Charlie…” I tried to choose my words carefully. “Maybe it’s time…maybe you should worry less about your privates and more about…everything else in your life.”

I did my best to put Charlie and his pump desires out of my mind as the meeting with Edna began.

The lieutenant didn’t waste any time, telling us that he’d met with the brass late in the day yesterday, and they weren’t happy. “I hope you’ve got something worthwhile to tell me. Dunbar’s holding a press conference this afternoon and he wants something positive to report.”

“Then he’s going to have to make it up,” Darby said. “We’ve got squat.”

“I wouldn’t call it squat,” I said, annoyed with his constant negativity.

Mel agreed with me. “We’re starting to get a bigger picture of things, and a lot of it points to Campbell Turner’s father.”

Edna exhaled and dragged a hand through hair that looked like it had been in a wind tunnel. “Let’s hear it.”

Mel went over our meeting with Norma Morgan, telling Edna that her son had a mild form of a bipolar disorder and that we believed his relationship with Campbell was platonic.

“Morgan said that Luke talked about Campbell on a few occasions and he described her as being sad,” Mel said. “She thought that sadness was similar to the depressive episodes he suffered from because of his mental illness.”

“We all get sad from time to time,” Darby said. “It doesn’t mean she was mentally ill.”

Edna ignored him. “What else?”

I told him about our meeting with Adriana Montoya. “She said Campbell was using everything from marijuana to crank, and maybe heroin, before entering the drug program. She attributed her drug problems to her relationship with her father. She said Campbell told her that her father’s life was one big lie and she hated him. She also said that Campbell’s mother was an alcoholic and was cheating on her father, but didn’t know who she was involved with.”

“We also talked to Campbell’s makeup artist, Donna McBride, at Klondike Studios,” Mel told him. “She and Campbell were pretty close. She said Blake Lambert was still seeing his old girlfriend, Alexis Teller. She said Campbell was also seeing someone from her past, but didn’t know who. Campbell confided in her that she became pregnant about three months before her death, but miscarried.”

“Who was the father?” Edna asked.

“McBride didn’t know.”

“Maybe it was Morgan,” Darby suggested.

“What makes you think that?” I asked.

“He obviously had the hots for her. He gets her pregnant and maybe she didn’t lose the baby. Maybe she got rid of it and Morgan paid her back.”

“There’s nothing to substantiate what you’re saying,” Mel said.

Darby glared at his partner. “There’s nothing to substantiate anything. All we’ve got on this case is speculation.” He looked at me. “And a shitload of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Why don’t you ask your crazy friends? They seem to have all the answers, or think they do.”

“Enough,” Edna said. “This constant bickering doesn’t solve anything.”

“What about going back to Jimmy Castello?” I said, doing my best to put what Darby said out of my mind. “Everything points to Campbell having issues with him.”

Edna locked eyes with me and slowly nodded. He turned to Darby and Mel. “You two go have a conversation with Castello.” He looked at Darby. “But keep it civil.” He wagged a finger at his employee. “In fact, I want Mel to do all the talking.”

“Why is that?” Darby said, jutting out his chin.

“Let’s just say that your partner has certain skills she acquired in Media Relations. I want her to use them.” Darby scoffed as the lieutenant went on. “I also want you to talk to Alexis Teller, see what she knows about this shit storm.”

“What about me?” I said.

Edna’s dark eyes shifted and fixed on me. “You and I need to talk.” He looked at Selfie and Molly. “You two have anything?”

“Molly and I worked up a bio on Teller,” Selfie said. “I can send it to everyone’s phone.”

Edna nodded. “Everyone’s dismissed, but Sexton.”

After the room cleared out, Edna leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “You really blew it this time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That interview you did in front of the courthouse last night. The brass, in particular Dunbar, saw it. He wants you held back while he considers his options.”

“Held back. What exactly does that mean?”

“For now, you work your backlog of cases. Darby and Mel have the lead on Turner and the other homicides.”

I did a slow burn—no, make that a fast burn. “I was off duty when I gave that interview and I have a right to my opinion.”

“You know it’s against policy to talk to the press unless it’s cleared.”

“The protest against that rapist was the right thing...”

Edna cut me off. “I agree with you, but it doesn’t matter.” He took a moment, then softened his tone. “You and I both know Dunbar’s been looking for something to hang on you for using his past issues against him. You just handed it to him.”

I tried to steady my voice, but it kicked up a notch. “Those issues, as you call them, involved our chief using a date rape drug on women he slept with against their will.”

The lines on the lieutenant’s forehead deepened. “How do you know that?”

I didn’t want to betray Mel’s confidence without her approval. “I can’t say. All I can tell you is that I have it on good authority.”

Edna dragged a hand through his hair and made huffing sounds. After a long moment, he said, “Let me work things behind the scenes with Dembowski. Maybe, after a couple of days, things will calm down and you can go back to your regular duties. For now...like I said, work your backlog.”

I was mad as hell, but knew Edna’s orders were coming from downtown. Yesterday’s meeting with Francesca came to mind. Despite everything that happened, I knew I had done the right thing by talking to the reporter.

“Can I work the Slayer?”

“What?”

“Molly pulled up some reports on a homicide in the city of Taft from 2012. It looks like there are parallels to our case. Since it’s now a regular RHD case and part of the backlog, I’d like to take another look at everything.”