Hollywood Murder (22 page)

“I don’t know. I’m having trouble seeing me, Natalie, and Mo living in a mobile home.”

Noah set his wine on the coffee table and exhaled. “That’s too bad. I have a feeling the rent would be really reasonable.”

He suddenly had my attention. “I guess there’s nothing to lose by taking a look at it.”

He came over and sat down next to me again. “Great. I’ll talk to her tomorrow and let you know what she says.”

“I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble.”

“It’s no trouble.” He brushed a hand through my hair. “Besides, I can’t have my girlfriend being homeless.”

Noah came closer and kissed me. After we parted, he said, “I have the feeling it’s all going to work out, but let’s forget about it for the night.”

I chuckled. “It sounds like you have other things on your mind.”

“You’re not only beautiful, you’re a mind reader.” He kissed me again.

He refilled our glasses. I took the opportunity to tell him what had been on my mind, but at the same time had been dreading. “There’s something I need to tell you about.”

He set the bottle down. “This sounds serious.”

“It was…I mean…” I took a moment to gather my thoughts. “A detective came to work for the department a couple of days ago. He’s been assigned to Section One. His name is Buck McCade. We were involved at one time.”

Noah nodded, at the same time swirling the wine in his glass. “That must make things…a little difficult for you.”

I took a breath, my gaze moving off. “Yes, but we had a little talk. I told him I wanted to be sure things remained on a professional level. I’m sure he got the message.” I met his eyes. “I just wanted you to know and clear the air. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

“I appreciate that.” He kissed me again. “And, in case you’re wondering, I have no doubt that whatever went on in the past between you two is over. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you now.” He came closer, brushing his lips against mine again. “Or the fact that I love you.”

After that it was all lips and hands and clothes coming off as we made our way back through the house and upstairs. What followed was a languid night of pleasure. We fell into bed and pledged our hearts and lives to one another as one day ended and another began.

After we’d exhausted one another, the long day finally caught up with me and I drifted off to sleep. I awoke a couple of hours later. I reached over and realized Noah wasn’t in bed. I sat up and called out to him, but there was no response. After scooping up a blanket, I made my way over to a window and saw that he was sitting in a chair in the yard with a blanket around him.

I wrapped my own blanket tighter against myself and made my way back downstairs, onto the porch, and into the yard. I’d been so quiet that he hadn’t heard me and he jumped when I said, “Want some company?”

He laughed and got a chair for me, pulling it up next to his. I took a seat, noticing that the horizon was ablaze with the lights from the city. In the distance, the faint glow of a new day was painting the horizon in hues of pink.

“I come out here just before sunrise a lot,” Noah said. “I’m not the soundest sleeper and…” He motioned to the lights below us. “There’s something about this view that soothes the soul.”

My gaze left him and wandered back to the city, the breaking dawn. “I know what you mean.”

He continued to stare into the horizon. “It makes me feel like…”

His voice trailed off. I looked over and saw that his eyes had misted over. “What is it, Noah?”

He looked at me. “Did you ever have the thought that we’re something far bigger than our individual lives?”

For some reason my love-dad came to mind, the conversations we’d had. “Yes. In fact, much bigger.”

He looked away, again taking in the blaze of light. “That’s what I’m feeling right now, right here with you. It’s like we’re a part of the moon and the stars and the earth, and nothing could be more perfect.” He glanced at me. “It’s so perfect that…”

“You’re afraid.”

He nodded, a smile touching his lips. “How did you know?”

“I’ve had those same feelings.” I reached over and took his hand. “There are moments like this that seem almost too perfect for human beings to understand. You want it to last forever, at the same time knowing that can never happen. It’s both astonishing and heart-breaking, at the same time.”

He came closer and kissed me. He took my hand and I stood up, my blanket falling off my shoulders. I was about to say something about my lack of modesty when we fell together onto the blanket.

Noah wrapped himself around me. His words were soft, just above a whisper. “I think there’s a name for what we’re experiencing, Kate. It’s called love.”

Noah and I never made it back to bed. After our shameless love-making in his backyard, we went inside where we showered, dressed, and had breakfast. Bernie and I then said our goodbyes and headed for the station.

A half hour later, I was settling in at my desk when Leo arrived and said, “You must have had a good night.”

My smile grew wider. “Is it that obvious?”

His ever-present grin was there as he nodded. He then looked over at a group of people that were coming down the hallway. “The feds are gathering in the conference room. It could mean the end of our case.”

I refocused, my thoughts going to Allison Marsh and her daughter. “Let’s make it clear we still want to play a part in everything. We’ve both got an investment in the outcome.”

Twenty minutes later, we met with Oz, Captain Dembowski, and the federal taskforce headed by Michael Dukes. Darby and Buck were also in the room, along with Selfie and Molly. I said my hellos to everyone after settling Bernie down, at the same time making eye contact with Buck. He seemed all business, something that eased my concerns about us working together.

The head of the FBI side of things was about forty, with an intense, serious look. He had all the usual trappings of a federal agent, including the dark suit and short hair. It made me think there must be a feebie factory somewhere that produced the cookie-cutter agents. Dukes was joined by a couple of other agents, Michelle Shuler and Miguel Flores, both cut from the standard FBI mold.

After introductions, Oz gave everyone a summary of where we stood on the case. Captain Dembowski then made one of those silly speeches that was full of platitudes about mutual cooperation, sharing resources, and wanting to do the right thing by the victims. I looked at Oz and rolled my eyes, thinking there must be a school that administrators go to called Crap 101.

After we all got a load of crap, Dukes took over, summarizing what the feds were doing to work the case. “We’ve put our own taps on all the phones and have an agent stationed in front of the Montreals’ house. Based on our experience with these kind of cases, we’re expecting further communication soon. Despite the bomb being defused, the kidnappers got their point across with the boy that they mean business.”

“Do we have any potential ID on the man and woman the media got photographs of during the failed ransom drop?” I asked.

“Nothing, so far. We’ve made some digitally enhanced blow-ups of the overhead shots taken from the helicopters, which are being distributed, but they aren’t the best. Maybe we’ll get lucky, get a tip sheet on someone who recognizes them.”

Leo spoke up, “Kate and I think Vincent Marsh may still be the key to what happened. We know he was having an affair with the maid and was probably a player involved with lots of women. There could be a link to the kidnappers that we haven’t developed yet.”

Agent Shuler responded. She was pretty and petite, but looked like she spent a lot of time in the gym. “We have a couple of agents following up on that angle. It’s our working hypothesis that Vincent Marsh may have hired the couple involved in the kidnapping, thinking he could score a big payday from his father-in-law. As we know, it didn’t work out as planned and he paid a big price.”

I looked at Darby. “Did you and Peters ever go back to the Hancock Park neighborhood and talk to the witness?”

“Yeah, we didn’t get much,” Darby said. He looked at Dukes. “She’s the neighborhood snoop who saw Marsh with the maid. Said she had a feeling they were an item, but didn’t know anything more.”

Dukes looked at Agent Flores, who had been making notes. “Let’s have our people talk to her again and re-canvass the neighborhood, just to be sure.”

Darby released a breath, but didn’t respond. He obviously wasn’t happy with the decision. Buck apparently didn’t pick up on his signals and said, “My partner and I would be happy to come along, take another pass at the neighbors.”

Dukes accepted his offer, but made it clear that he and Darby would be playing a secondary role to his agents. I decided that I needed to make my desire not to also be pushed aside known. “Detective Kingsley and I would like to still play an active role in this case. We’ve been close to this from the start and want to be there until the end.”

After Darby made the same argument, telling everyone that he deserved a primary role, Agent Dukes told us where we stood. “Detectives Sexton and Kingsley will be the only primaries from your agency working with our agents.” He looked at Darby. “We have plenty of manpower and don’t want to be stepping in one another’s business.” He looked at me. “You’re in mainly because of the recommendation of John Greer. He had good things to say about you.”

Greer was the special agent in charge of the cases I’d worked on with Joe Dawson, another FBI agent. Our last stint together had involved the group of domestic terrorists known as The Swarm. It again brought to mind that my sister had been kidnapped, then willingly became a part of the group. It sent a wave of depression through me about her well-being.

Dukes spoke up again. “I’ll let Agent Flores give you his summary, since these kinds of cases are his specialty. After that we’ll adjourn until there are further developments.”

I was surprised by what he’d said, since Flores hadn’t said a word during the meeting. The handsome agent was African-American, probably in his mid-thirties. He spoke with a deep baritone that immediately gave the impression he knew what he was talking about.

“Cases like this one usually follow a pattern. Since the original demands the kidnappers made weren’t fulfilled, they’re becoming increasingly violent and unpredictable. The internal pressures are likely building until a breaking-point will be reached. There shouldn’t be any false expectations. This situation may not end well. We expect there will either be another demand made soon, or we’ll have a dead hostage. We need to be prepared for the worst.”

***

After lots of small talk, Darby and Buck went off to work with the feds, talking to the witness in Hancock Park and recanvassing the neighborhood. Leo and I met with Oz in his office on the Potter case, along with Selfie and Molly. While Bernie snoozed in the corner, we took a few minutes, updating the lieutenant on the latest developments, including what Samantha Potter had told us about her mother’s visitor.

I then looked at our civilian employees. “I’ll let Selfie and Molly fill in the blanks.”

Selfie gave Oz some general background on Reverend Stan Pressley and his wife, then said, “Molly and I pulled up a lot of information on the Internet about them.” She looked at me. “They’re originally from Lubbock, Texas, and moved to California about five years ago where they started their church.”

“They have overflow crowds every Sunday,” Molly said. “They’re in the process of building a megachurch to accommodate their followers. It’s being called, the Stairway to Heaven.”

“Nothing like a little humility,” I said.

“It’s going to be made entirely of glass,” Selfie added, “with a central stairway that leads to an open-air deck on the top where it disappears into the sky.”

Leo’s brows went up and he looked at me. “What were you saying about humility?”

“It sounds like the Pressleys never heard of the word.” I looked back at Selfie and Molly. “What else?”

Molly handed us some printouts of Reverend Pressley and his wife. “As you can see, they’re not a bad looking couple, especially the wife.”

“No kidding,” I said, glancing through the photos.

Meagan Pressley was probably in her late twenties. She had one of those sweet, kind faces that reminded me of the actress Jennifer Garner. Then there was her body. The reverend’s wife had apparently never heard of the term modesty. Her form-fitting low-cut dress showed off every curve of her voluptuous figure.

“Has Samantha Potter taken a look at these?” Oz asked, tossing the printout back on the table.

“Not yet,” Leo said.

“Let’s go back to her today and see if she can ID the woman.”

“What about Shelia Woods?” Leo asked. “You want us to let her in on this?”

“Not until we get something more definitive. Let’s see what the girl says. In the meantime, I’ll talk to the captain.”

Oz told Selfie and Molly they were free to go, but asked Leo and me to stay behind. His expression was sober as he looked at me and broke the news. “The official word has come down from on high there will be no investigation into Jean Winslow’s death or further follow-up on John Sexton.”

I feigned surprise. “I’m shocked.” I then thought about Captain Dembowski’s earlier words about wanting to do the right thing by the victims. “I guess some victims count more than others.”

Leo’s smooth voice was softer than usual. “My offer to look into things on my own time still stands.”

“I appreciate that.” I remembered that I’d promised Natalie and Mo that I would go by Winslow’s house this week. I filled the lieutenant in on her house being up for sale and said, “I agreed to go with them, but I’m not sure it will accomplish anything.”

Bernie came up off the floor, probably sensing our meeting was about to end.

“Let us know how it goes,” Oz said. “I still have the feeling there’s a couple of cold cases that are going to heat up one of these days.”