Hollywood Lust (5 page)

“So, where does this leave us?” Selfie asked.

“With a cold case that’s going back into the refrigerator,” Alex said. “This is a complete waste of time.”

Leo smiled, his dark eyes holding on Alex for a moment. He looked back at Selfie. “Tell you what, why don’t you take another pass at anyone the original investigators interviewed. Maybe a fresh set of eyes will come up with something.” He looked at me. “Let’s also put it on our list to go back to the ex-wife. Maybe time has mellowed out some of her negative feelings. It could be that she’s remembered something.”

Leo turned and began walking to the door.

“Where are you going?” Alex asked.

He stopped and turned back to my tubby partner for a moment. “Crime scene number two. MacArthur Park.”

MacArthur Park consisted of a small lake, soccer fields, a children’s playground, and a recreation center. I remembered reading somewhere that when the lake was drained in the 1970s, hundreds of handguns were found, no doubt deposited there by their owners who had used them in a variety of crimes. The park became known for prostitution, drug dealing, and shootouts in the 1980s. There had also been dozens of murders there over the years, including the one now assigned to Section One.

I took Bernie for a short walk before meeting up with Leo, Alex, and Selfie at the perimeter of the park near a stand of trees where the murder of Carla Hodge had occurred less than forty-eight hours earlier. Alex went over the facts for Leo as they’d been told to us earlier that morning, while Selfie laid out the crime scene photographs on a picnic bench.

“It looks like she’d gone jogging after work and came across our suspect,” I said to Leo after Alex finished telling him what he knew about the murder.

“Was there a wallet or anything else found on the girl?” Leo asked.

Selfie showed him one of the photos. “She had a fanny pack with her wallet, cell phone, and keys inside. There was thirty-eight dollars inside the wallet, so the motive wasn’t robbery. Her car was parked in the lot across the way.” She pointed to the nearby adjacent parking lot.

“What about the cell phone? Was there anything of concern in the texts, calls?”

Selfie shook her head. “There wasn’t much of anything, just some calls to her mother, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I think whoever did this was trying to make Hodge go with him,” Alex said. “It was an attempted kidnap and sexual assault. When she refused to go along, she was murdered.”

What Alex had postulated was possible, but it was conjecture, not based on the facts as we currently knew them.

I said, “I’m trying to understand why you think it was an attempted rape?”

He shrugged. “Once you rule out robbery, what else did the girl have to give up but her body? No other motive makes any sense.”

“Maybe our suspect knew the girl,” Leo said. “He might have followed her here.”

“You mean, as in stalking her?” I asked.

“I’m just speculating, but it could have gone that way.”

What Molly had said earlier about Carla Hodge possibly being gay came to mind. It could have been that whoever killed her had taken an interest in her and had been rebuffed.

Alex interrupted my thoughts. “I don’t think this was a crime of passion, more like a crime of lust.” He took a moment, glancing through the photographs Selfie had brought. He finally looked up from the photos, brushed a hand through his thinning hair, and said, “This case is already a giant cluster fuck. We’ve got a knife with the guts of a murder victim from ten years ago on its blade that somehow got out of an evidence locker and ends up here. How in the hell do we do anything with that?”

Leo stared hard at my partner. “We work both murders like we work any other killings. We dig through what evidence there is, follow-up with the witnesses, and try to piece something together.”

“Don’t patronize me. I know how to do basic police work.”

Leo smiled. “Sorry. The way you were talking, I thought maybe you’d forgotten.” He went over and studied the photos, taking a couple of them over to where the body of the girl had been found.

When he thought Leo was out of earshot, Alex said, “I think there’s a reason why Leo the lion has been working cold cases.”

I looked at him, then back at Leo who had kneeled down on the ground with the photos, but I didn’t respond.

“He’s dead wood.”

“What?”

“He’s way past his prime, on cruise control, heading toward retirement.”

“I doubt that Leo Kingsley has ever been on cruise control, and he’s certainly not dead wood.”

I walked away, ignoring my partner who went on a rant, saying something to Selfie about dinosaurs. When I got to Leo’s side, I saw that he was now on all fours and was wearing reading glasses. He had a couple of photos of Hodge spread out on the grass in front of him.

“Anything interesting?” I asked.

Leo removed his glasses, braced himself on one knee, and then stood up. “Let me take my engine off cruise control before I answer your question.” He smiled, putting his glasses in his pocket. “I might need glasses, but my hearing’s still pretty good.”

I glanced over at Alex who still had Selfie cornered, lecturing her about something. “I know he’s not my monkey, but, just in case you had any doubt, he’s as dumb as an ape.”

Leo laughed loud enough to cause Alex to turn in our direction. The big detective then turned back to the crime scene photographs lying on the ground. “We can check with the coroner, see what he says, but I think our suspect was left handed.”

“What makes you think that?”

He motioned to the photos of the body, the blood spray on the grass next to it. “I think our victim was turning away, trying to ward off a blow that was coming at her right side. She turned when she was struck and the blood spray went in that same direction.” He pointed at the photographs. “A right-hander would have caused her to have the opposite reaction.”

I took a moment, examining the photos and the blood spray. “I think you could be on to something.” I glanced back at him, smiling. “Not bad for a piece of dead wood.”

“Let’s go see what the coroner thinks, and then let’s talk to the victim’s mother. Maybe Mom can give us something more to go on.”

We were walking back toward Selfie and Alex when Leo said, “By the way, thanks for sticking up for me.”

I whispered to him as we got closer to our colleagues. “You watch my back, I’ll watch yours.”

***

Carla Hodge’s mother lived in an apartment complex in Long Beach. Alex told us the detectives that had done the original interviews with her had done a good enough job. He said it wasn’t worth his time to talk to her and he was heading back to the station to try and put something together on the case, whatever that meant.

Anna Hodge was in her late forties with mousy brown hair and deeply set blue eyes. She was wearing sweat pants and a T-shirt that had food stains on the front. Her apartment was dark and cluttered. She looked like a woman that had spent the last couple of days in mourning and hadn’t bothered to take care of herself or her apartment.

After introductions, I asked our victim’s mother about her daughter. “It looks like Carla had gone jogging the night she was killed. Do you know if that’s something she did on a regular basis?”

She wiped her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. “All the time. She was always worried about gaining weight. It was part of her disease.”

“Are you talking about anorexia?”

Hodge stood up. “Let me show you something.” She returned a couple of minutes later with a couple of photographs in picture frames. She handed one of the photos to me as Leo and Selfie also came over to take a look. “This was Carla the year after she graduated from high school.”

The smiling girl in the photograph was attractive. She had that vital look that young people with most of their life ahead of them have.

“She was so pretty,” Selfie said.

Hodge nodded and handed over the second photo to me. “This is Carla a year later.”

Selfie gasped and then said, “Sorry.”

In this photo Anna Hodge’s daughter looked like she was well under a hundred pounds. Her face was sunken and the bones in her arms and legs were almost visible. She looked like she was wasting away.

“It took her years, but Carla was doing better,” Hodge said. “But she still exercised constantly and weighed herself at least ten times a day. It was a compulsion.”

I handed the photographs back, at the same time thinking about what Molly had said earlier that morning about Carla possibly being gay, something that I’d mentioned to Leo on the way over.

“Was Carla involved with anyone recently?” I asked.

Hodge shook her head. “She wasn’t…she was very shy. When she wasn’t working, Carla spent most of her time at home.”

“What about someone from her past…when…before she developed the disease?”

“There was a boy…” Her eyes shifted. “Jimmy…Pulido, I think. Yes, they were together after high school for a few months.”

After asking about an address or phone number for Pulido I got nothing back. I then said, “How did the relationship end?”

She shrugged. “I think they just drifted apart. They both decided to go their separate ways.”

“There was no animosity?”

She shook her head.

“What about girls? Was Carla attracted to other women?”

Hodge’s features became pinched. She looked away. Her face softened as she exhaled. “Maybe…I don’t really know. We never talked about it.”

“But you think she might have been?”

She shrugged. “It could be. Like I said, we never discussed it.” She took a breath. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think there was anyone she was involved with in recent years. She was sort of a recluse, maybe because of the disease.” She teared up and found a tissue.

After giving her a moment, Leo tempered his deep voice and asked, “Was Carla ever at a place called Bernstein Studios? It’s near Hollywood.”

Hodge shook her head. “Not that I know of. Why are you asking that?”

Leo glanced at me before saying, “A man named Bruce Reeder was killed ten years ago. He worked at Bernstein Studios. Does his name sound familiar to you?”

She shook her head. “I still don’t understand your questions.”

Leo lowered his voice further. “He was killed by the same weapon that was used on Carla.”

Hodge stared at him, processing what he’d said. “You think the same man that killed her also killed this man you mentioned?”

“It’s possible. We’re still trying to piece things together.”

She looked away and sighed. “None of this makes any sense. Carla was about the most harmless person you could ever meet.” Her watery eyes found us. “Who would want to kill her?”

I reached over and touched her hand. “I don’t know, but I promise you we’re going to find out.”

We talked on the street for a moment after leaving Carla Hodge’s apartment. I said to Leo, “Not much to go on, really.”

He rubbed a big paw over his shaved head and smiled. “Maybe, maybe not. At least we know your secretary was probably right about her sexual orientation.”

“You think she could have been involved with someone that her mother didn’t know about who turned against her?” Selfie asked him.

Leo shrugged. “Hard to say at this point. Why don’t you and…” He turned to me. “Your secretary?” I told him her name. “…you and Molly take a look at everyone she ever knew, going back to middle school. You never know what you might turn up.”

After Selfie said they would make it a priority, I said to Leo, “Why don’t we plan on going by R&I in the morning, also talk to the coroner on Hodge. Maybe we can also track down Bruce Reeder’s ex-wife. Can you meet us at Section One?”

“See you in Hollywood.”

***

I was on my way home when I got a call from Natalie. “Me and Mo got us that security gig at the museum I mentioned the other day. Do you think you could stop by and give us your take on the caper?”

I remembered her mentioning there had been a theft of artifacts from the Hollywood Movie Museum and that she and Mo had been hired to work security there. I was tired and wanted nothing more than to flop down on the sofa and forget about my day, but then I thought about all the times my friends had helped me out.

“It’s on my way home,” I said. “Bernie and I can be there in about ten minutes.”

“Meet you out front with Chewbacca,” Natalie said before ending the call.

I had no idea what she meant about the
Star Wars
figure, but I did know from having lived in Hollywood my entire life that the museum was a repository of movie props, costumes, and memorabilia, going back to the early days of the film industry. I’d toured the place when I was in elementary school and knew it was located in a converted movie theater built in the early days of Hollywood.

As I pulled up in front of the museum, I saw that the establishment’s name was on the marquee in front of the art deco building. Natalie and Mo were standing in the forecourt where replica stars from the Walk of Fame were embedded. Standing between my friends was a large subject who was wearing a Chewbacca costume.

“Nice company you’re keeping,” I said, coming over to them with Bernie.

“Glad you could make it,” Mo said.

Natalie left her hairy companion for another hairy companion—Bernie. As usual, she gave my big dog lots of attention. Chewbacca, maybe upset that he’d been upstaged, disappeared back into the museum.

Mo went on, “The owners think the thieves could strike again and we wanted your take on how they might be getting in.”

“I’m glad to help out,” I said, noticing the glass cases with antique movie posters on the walls surrounding the ticket booth. The place felt like I’d gone back in time to a movie theater from the 1940s.

“We got us our own personal tour guide,” Natalie said, waving a hand and turning toward the entrance.

I saw there was an elderly woman waddling out of the museum. She was less than five feet tall, with short gray hair that she wore in a bun. For a moment, I thought she might be Nana, but she looked even older than our former landlord, if that was possible.

“This here is Gladys,” Natalie said, introducing the woman. “She’s the original owner of the museum.”

We exchanged hellos before Gladys demonstrated she could swear like a sailor, telling me what she had planned for the thieves who broke into her place. “When you catch the fuckers who stole my stuff, I’m gonna string them up by their balls and rip their hearts out.”

Mo said, “Gladys don’t take no shit. I like her attitude.”

It was obvious that Mo and Gladys had a lot in common.

I said to the elderly museum owner, “Why don’t you show us around? Maybe we can figure out how they got in.”

Gladys ambled back toward the museum entrance. “I hope you brought your gun. I want you to shoot the bastards when we find them.” She waved a hand and we followed her inside.

Bernie and I spent the next half hour wandering around the public portion of the museum with our tour guide and my friends. The one-time theater housed exhibits with memorabilia and information about all the major stars.

Gladys explained how the museum got its start. “I started collecting movie posters when I was just a kid. Back then, after they filmed a movie, they either threw stuff out, or just gave it away. I started hanging around the back lots of the studios and got a lot of stuff for free. It eventually turned into all this.” Her brown eyes drifted up, taking in the displays. “Not bad for an old woman who didn’t have a pot to piss in when she was younger.”

“I’d say you’ve done very well for yourself,” I said, at the same time hearing Natalie calling over to us.

We went over and saw there was an exhibit that offered a virtual display of how you would look if you had Marilyn Monroe’s hair and body. Natalie couldn’t resist the opportunity, and we watched as her face was superimposed over the actress’s features on a movie screen.

“I think maybe I’m a natural Marilyn look-alike,” she said.

There was some resemblance to the movie star. “I agree, but I think you’re much better looking.”

“You’ve got a lot of potential,” Gladys told her. “I might even let you try on a couple of Marilyn’s dresses one of these days.”

Natalie clapped her hands. “Hope you got that one from
The Seven Year Itch
. We can use a fan and blow air up me privates.”

Gladys’s wrinkled face became even more pinched. I had the impression that she didn’t know what to think about Natalie.

Mo couldn’t resist borrowing the title of one of the actress’s old movies. “Some like it hot, baby sis. But you like it boiling over.”

Natalie turned to me. “Why don’t you give it a go, Kate? I always wondered what you’d look like as a blonde.”

“I don’t think the world is ready for that.”

Mo put her hands on her wide hips and eyeballed me. “You need to loosen up. What you got to lose, anyway?”

I sighed and caved into their pressure. In a moment I was staring at my face as Marilyn on the movie screen and said, “I look ridiculous.”

Mo made a humming sound that was full of disapproval and then said, “Guess some people just don’t fit the Marilyn mold.”

“I think it’s her hair,” Natalie offered. She regarded me. “We’re used to your hair being…sorta on the wild side.”

I hit a switch, killing the wannabe Marilyn image. Even though my brother had recently worked on my hair, it sometimes had its own zip code. I made a mental note to make another appointment at Robin’s salon.

“Let’s take a look at the storage room,” Mo said, turning to Gladys. “That’s where the stuff was stolen the other night.”

Gladys led the way, and in a moment we were in a massive storage room full of shelves and memorabilia. Movie props, posters, costumes, and an assortment of odds and ends were stacked to the rafters. There was even a robot standing in a corner that Natalie went over to and hammed it up with, saying, “Take me to your leader.”

“The fucking thieves stole the stuff from over here,” Gladys said, motioning us over to a corner of the room.

We saw there was an antique dressing table with drawers overflowing with jewelry.

“They didn’t touch the costume jewelry but took a brooch that was worn in the movie
Diamond Jim.
It was worth a damned fortune.”

While Natalie and Mo commented on the mounds of jewelry, I glanced around the storage room. I said to Gladys, “Do you have security cameras?”

She shook her head. “Too busy keeping things going on the main floor. I should have put them in years ago.”

“How many exits are there from the main building ?”

“Just two. They have to open from the inside due to the fucking fire regulations, but they’re always locked from the outside.”

She led me over to the exits where we tested them and found, just as she’d said, they opened from the inside but were securely locked from the outside. After walking through the building with Bernie a final time, I gave my friends and Gladys my best guess as to what happened.

“There’s no way into the building unless someone is allowed in. That means that an exit door was left open, or it was purposely opened by someone on the inside of the building.”

“What are you saying?” The elderly woman said.

“I’m saying this was an inside job. Somebody who works here either stole your property or let someone inside after hours who took it. They also knew enough about your jewelry to take something of great value.”

Gladys shook her head and sighed. “You’re probably right. Most of my employees have worked here for years. I’ve even got a cousin on my staff. I’ll have to do some thinking about which one of the fuckers might have done it.”

We were on our way out of the storage room when I passed a shelf with a photograph that caught my eye. It was a group picture taken in front of Bernstein Studios. I stopped, picked up the photo, and asked Gladys about it.

“I think it was taken just after the big war. Every year the studio has all their employees get together for a group shot at the front gate.”

“Do you happen to know if they still take the photos?”

She nodded. “I think so. It’s a tradition. Lou Bernstein inherited the place from his father a few years back. You might check with him.”

I followed Gladys back into the main portion of the museum with my friends. I knew it was a long shot, but it occurred to me that the person who murdered Bruce Reeder could have worked at Bernstein Studios with him at one time. If that was the case, there just might be a photograph of our killer hanging on the wall of the studio.