Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (5 page)

I finally understood. “A band? Are they singing to someone about death?”

Her murky
eyes came back to me. She smiled. “Of course. Billie Bathgate’s the singer. She’s singing to her lover—the prince of darkness. She’s singing to Satan.”

Chapter Ten

Myra
watches the park from the street, scanning the faces. Like a bird of prey, she’s on the hunt. In her mind, she soars through the sky, her arms and legs extending, flexing, surging with the power that flows through her body. Her luminescent eyes take in everything. She is the predator, hungry, dangerous, and determined.

There will be no rest until Chloe is found and murdered. She had trusted the young woman, taken her under her wing
, and mentored her. That trust has been shattered. The ultimate price must now be paid.

Rose and Henna are at her side, waiting for instructions. Sh
e turns to the young women and delivers the death sentence. “Fan out and move along the edges of the park. If you see her, report back to me. Remember, she knows about the portal, Azazel, and the others. She must die.”

The park is
one of Myra’s favorite places. She and her sisters have spent hours together here panhandling and scoring drugs. They’ve made connections, gone to parties, sometimes spending the night with those who offer to share their homes.

Of course, nothing is free. Sex is often exchanged for these favors. Sex for food. Sex for drink. Sex
for drugs. Sex for shelter. It’s the currency of staying alive. Myra also knows that sex is the currency of power and control.

The portal is on her mind, the entrance to the Forbidden World. It
’s their secret domain, the place where she meets with her beloved, Azazel. Chloe knows about the portal. It must be closed down before she can tell anyone about it.

Even as
Myra knows this she feels her mind drifting away, finding the solitude and love of the one who waits for her. The past again comes out of the shadows of the present, surfacing and bringing with it the long ago memories.

***

She sees the girl again, the one named, Lenore. It was many years ago when she began to find her power again, but before that there were the long, empty days in the hospital with the psychiatrist and the drugs.

Lenore is in the shrink’s office, watching his angry, solemn face staring down at her in disapproval. Her mind is there, but something has changed. It’s her body. It is somehow detached from her. The drugs have made it so that she can barely move. She can’t even feel her body. It is as though she is looking down from somewhere above, seeing her body, but it
’s separate from her.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Dr. Thurston says. “I will call you
Myra, but first you must tell me about your crime. Tell me about your mother.”

Myra
starts to speak, but her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth. She has trouble swallowing.

The doctor slides a glas
s of water across the table. Myra’s hand moves forward, takes hold of the glass, and brings it to her mouth. Half the water spills, running down her blue cotton dress. She looks down and sees that the water has caused her dress to cling to her body and the breasts which seem strangely separate from her.

“I’
m waiting, Lenore.”

Myra
sees that his eyes are on her breasts. She moves a hand up, touching the dress where it’s damp, but feels nothing.

“She
knew,” she finally manages to say, “about what I did.” Even as she says this, Myra feels the regret. Why is she telling him? It must be the drugs, making her lose control.

“Your mother?” the doctor says. “She
knew about what? What did you tell her?”

She feels her body shaking, but it’s another body—a separate body.
It is not her. Lenore wills herself into silence as she pushes the past into the dark regions of her mind.

“You need to talk to me, Lenore. If you ever want to leave this hospital, you have to talk to me. I’m the one who holds the power. Talk to me and someday you may find yourself free to leave.”

Myra looks at him. A smile slips across her face, before her dark eyes shift, her gaze drifting away.

Dr. Thurston comes around his desk. She feels his hands on her shoulders again, watches as they move down to her breasts.

“Maybe it’s just a matter of trust,” the doctor says. “Once you learn to trust me, you will open up and begin to heal.”

Myra
’s mind slips farther away. There’s a body somewhere far below where she sees the man, the psychiatrist who lifts up her dress, pushes her across the desk, and spreads her legs apart, saying, “It’s all about trust. This is so that you will learn what it means to trust.”

Far away now, floating up, drifting through the clouds,
Myra is gone. She feels nothing as the psychiatrist enters the body below, moving, thrusting, violating something that she once was.

When it is finished,
Myra sees the girl being led away, back to her room. The image is fleeting, ephemeral, like a distant memory. She knows that soon Azazel will visit the girl she once was. When that happens, vengeance will arise and death will come again.

***

“We can’t find Chloe anywhere,” Rose says, trying to catch her breath.

“She’s probably hiding out,” Henna adds. “Afraid of her own shadow.”

Myra feels herself being pulled back into the present by the words of her sisters. She again sees the park where they’ve searched for Chloe. The fragile, broken girl she once was is pushed back into the shadows of the past. She checks her watch, controlling her anger, and realizing that she has other duties awaiting her.

“Stay here and keep your eyes open,”
Myra says. “If you see her call me, but don’t approach her. Chloe belongs to me.”

Chapter Eleven

“I can’t go into specifics at this time,” I said, standing at the gate in front of Love Dawg’s estat
e before dozens of reporters, “but I have the sad duty to report that Trevon Jackson, an entertainer, was found dead in his residence early this morning. Mr. Jackson’s body was found by a housekeeper who called the police. We are treating his death as a homicide and we are in the very early stages of processing the crime scene. We will provide additional details as they become available.”

I turned away and was
about to head for my car, when Haley Tristan shouted above the other reporters and stuck a microphone in my face. She was with her ever-present aide, Cher, who looked she belonged on the cover of a slutty magazine.

“De
tective Sexton, can you tell us how Mr. Jackson was killed? Was this a shooting, similar to the murder of Karma’s agent, Harriett Nordquist?”

I turned back to her.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss any details at this time.”

Tristan was not deterred. “Why wasn’t your department more proactive in protecting M
r. Jackson when his fiancé was the possible target of yesterday’s shooting? Why wasn’t there a police presence at his estate?”

“Once aga
in, I am not going into details.” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Skully standing next to me as I continued, “other than to say that we will continue to process information from both crime scenes until we bring the perpetrator of these crimes to justice.”

“But why can’t you tell us more?” Tristan went on. The other reporters started shouting at me
, the tension growing. “Are the citizens of Hollywood safe? What about the tarot card found at the first crime scene? Is there a serial killer on the loose who could strike again tonight? People have a right to know.”

I tried one final tactic. “The police will continue to serve and protect the public, just as we have always done. There is no need for anyone to panic. We have no reason to believe there will be another killing.”

I turned and started to walk away, taking Bernie from one of the uniforms. My anger was barely under control. I almost bumped into Skully, who still had the world’s biggest shit-eating grin. The captain had let me take the heat for his botched investigation and we both knew it.

A
fter leaving Jackson’s estate, I did some deep breathing to calm myself and decided to stop by Mom’s house on the way to meet with Charlie and Pearl. As I pulled to the curb, I was thankful that the press was no longer camped out, but knew they’d moved on to the site of the most recent killing.

I took a moment to call Charlie and fill him in on what Chandra Martin had told me
while Bernie sniffed the flowers on the sidewalk. “The writing at both crime scenes are lyrics from a song called, ‘Love Me or Kill Me,’ from a heavy metal group called, Fleshded.”

“Never heard of them,” Charlie said.

“Me neither. But according to what Chandra told me, the lead singer is female and she’s singing to her lover—Satan.”

“Nothing like a good love song.
” Charlie was quiet for a moment. I wasn’t sure if he was eating something or processing what I’d said.

“How did Karma take the news about her fiancé’s murder?” I asked.

“She was at a recording session, so I had to call her. When I broke the news, she went into hysterics and the line went dead. She’s supposed to be back here within the hour.”

I t
old Charlie I would meet him and Pearl at Karma’s estate and ended the call.

Bernie and I found Robin in Mom’s living room. My brother’s usually carefully styled hair was uncombed. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. I didn’t see my mother until Robin pointed her out.

“She’s been in her spirit room all morning. I think she’s in some kind of trance.”

I gave Bernie the settle command and left him as Robin and I moved into the psychic parlor. I saw that Mom
wore the same headdress she had on yesterday. She didn’t seem to notice that we were there.

“Mom, it’s me, Kate. Are you okay?”

Her gray eyes moved in my direction, but registered nothing. I looked at Robin.

“She’s been like that since I got up,” he said. “She hasn’t acknowledged me once.”

I tried again. “Mom, we need to know that you’re okay.”

Nothing.

“Maybe we should call a doctor,” Robin suggested.

Or a witchdoctor.
I leaned over, taking Mom’s hands in mine. “Mother, you need to talk to us. What’s going on?”

Her eyes shifted,
her gaze drifting away. Her lips moved, but nothing came out.

I leaned closer to her. “Mom, I can’t hear you.”

Her eyes slowly swung back over to me. The voice I heard was deep and sounded nothing like my mom. “I am not your mother.”

I looked at Robin again. I had no idea what she was talking about, but then it hit me. Lolly, Mom’s spirit guide, the woman who had supposedly contacted us when Harriett Nordquist was shot, was speaking to me.
I had the same crazy thought as last night, that maybe this Lolly person knew who killed Harriett. Since Skully wasn’t around I decided I had nothing to lose by asking.

“Lolly, we need your help
,” I said, at the same time feeling like an idiot for trying to talk to a spirit. “Can you tell us who killed the woman who was in this room last night?”

“Yes.”

I looked at Robin. He made a circling motion with his finger, which I took to mean that either Mom was crazy or I should ask the question again.

“Then tell us,” I said. “Who killed her?”

“The fallen one.”

“Who is the that?”

“The one who has no soul.”

“You mean, Satan?” I asked, at the same time looking at Robin and doing an eye roll.

“Yes.”

I stepped away from her and took a breath. It was a little eerie that she was talking
about the Satan or the devil, just like the lyrics found at the crime scenes seemed to indicate. But she was a psychic, and she was my mother, or Lolly, and it wasn’t the first time I’d heard her make a reference to evil forces.

I walked over to Robin
, motioning for him to follow me into the living room. I turned to him and said, “So, I guess I just need to find some dark hole, pull the devil out, and arrest him.”

“Or, maybe j
ust go out and find a lawyer.” Robin knew I hated attorneys.

“I’ll check on you both later,” I said, heading toward the door with Bernie.

“Wait, Sis. I need a favor.” As Robin hurried over to me I turned back to him. “Can you introduce me to Karma?”

I shook my head. “I only know her because of what happened yesterday. It’s strictly professional. I can’t…”

“I just need to get a foot in the door. If I can do her hair, it would really help me out. Business at the salon has fallen off since Clark’s death.”

I took a long breath. Robin’s boyfriend, Clark, had died of a drug overdose after he’d left my brother for a celebrity. I knew that Robin was still suffering, both emotionally and financially. And, I would do almost anything for him.

“I’ll see what I can do after we solve the case. No promises.” I headed for the door, adding, “Let me know if Mom’s head starts spinning around on her shoulders.”