Hollywood Murder (28 page)

Leo and I spent the evening at the Montreal estate, where FBI agents Michelle Shuler and Miguel Flores interviewed Allison Marsh after she’d been reunited with her son and parents. We’d been told that Agent Dukes wasn’t in attendance because he was tied up on other matters. There was one other agent in the room who had been in the lead car during the ransom drop, along with Henry and Georgette Montreal.

We’d been told that Allison’s mother had already informed her of the death of her husband and her maid. It looked like that news had pushed Allison into the dark regions of despair. Her hair was matted and her face was swollen from crying.

We listened intently as Allison told us the story of the man she only knew as Frank bursting into her home and taking her and the children upstairs. She said she thought Maria Chavez had been hurt because of the screaming she’d heard during her captivity, but was unaware she’d been killed.

“Can you describe the man who took you?” Agent Shuler asked.

Allison sighed. “I’m not really sure. He was about average height. I think he had dark hair.”

“Dark hair? Are you sure about that?”

“Not really. Maybe it sounds strange, but I didn’t really look at him. He scared me.”

“What about his companion?”

“Who?”

“There was a woman. The TV cameras caught images of her. Can you describe her?”

Allison shook her head. “I never saw a woman.”

The two FBI agents exchanged a glance before Agent Shuler said, “We’ll have you work with one of our artists on a drawing of the man who called himself Frank. Maybe we can flesh out the details.”

“Can you tell us what happened after you were taken from your home?” Agent Flores asked.

Allison took a moment before responding. “I’m not sure. I think we were drugged. I just remember waking up in a room without windows.”

“What was this room like? Can you describe it?”

There was a hesitation again before she said, “I’m not really sure. It was just cold and dark and it seemed like we spent hours there.”

Agent Flores had obviously been impacted by Allison’s physical condition. He asked a question in a way that implied the answer, something that law enforcement officers were trained never to do. “Could you have been held in something that was large and rectangular, maybe like a shipping container?”

“Yes,” Allison said, nodding. “I think that’s what it was. I remember now, the air smelled like we were near the ocean.”

The FBI agents went back and forth for the next hour, asking Allison about her captivity. We learned that she and the children had been moved to the basement of a house, where they’d been held for several days, but she was unable to provide any other details. We also learned that her abductor had severed her finger, and had threatened her children if she failed to cooperate. While her captivity had been brutal and traumatic, I was struck by the lack of detail in what she told the agents.

Agent Shuler expressed her sorrow for the loss of her husband, before asking, “Is there anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm Vincent?”

Allison shrugged and shook her head. “Not really.”

The FBI agent lowered her voice. “I know this is difficult, but we understand your husband was involved with other women.”

Allison’s eyes narrowed on the agent, the ridge of the brow tightening. “What are you talking about?”

“Vincent wasn’t faithful to you.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“The maid,” Shuler said. “He was…he and Maria Chavez had been…in a relationship.”

Tears sprang from Allison’s eyes. She began sobbing and shaking her head. “That’s not possible. Vince was committed to me.”

Both agents continued to probe, gently asking her questions about her husband’s relationships with other women. Allison steadfastly denied he ever cheated on her.

Agent Flores finally said, “Let’s move on to when you were released. Can you tell us how that happened?”

Allison drew in a breath and took a moment before answering. “We…we were put in the van. It seemed like we were on the road for a couple of hours before the car stopped. Jenna and I were untied and Frank said we were free to go.”

“That’s it? Did he say anything to you?”

Allison used a tissue, drying her eyes. She huffed out a breath and said, “Yeah. He said, ‘have a nice life.’” She looked at Flores. “Can you believe that?”

After the agents were finished with her, Allison’s father took several minutes, asking her about the ransom money. She assured him that she had no idea where the money had been dropped or what the man she knew as Frank did with it. Henry Montreal walked away, saying something about hiring his own investigator to find his money.

As the other agents were preparing to leave, Leo and I went over and introduced ourselves. After expressing our condolences, I said, “I’m just glad that you and both your children are home safe.”

“Thank you,” Allison said. “We’re going to need some time to put our lives back together.”

“Maybe your friend, Deidre, can help. She seems like she genuinely cares about you.”

She nodded. “You talked to her?”

“It was a routine part of our investigation.”

“I see.” She brushed the hair out of her eyes and exhaled. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’d better go check on the children.”

Leo and I were in the car, heading back to the station, when I asked him for his thoughts on what Allison had said.

“Pretty sketchy. Maybe because of the trauma.”

I didn’t respond, thinking about her interview.

“What is it?” he finally asked. “You think there’s something she’s not telling us?”

“Maybe.” I met his eyes. “Did you see how she reacted when I mentioned that we’d talked to Deidre?”

He nodded. “There’s also the issue of her saying Vince was faithful. Even Deidre told us the opposite.”

“Are you starting to have the same concerns that I have?”

He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just denial. Not sure.”

As Leo parked at the station, I said, “There’s one thing I am sure about. Women who are being cheated on, especially with someone under their own roof, know about it. If you ask me, Allison Marsh is a liar.”

“I got me a bad feelin’ ’bout this,” Mo said as she drove us to the Starlight Mobile Home Park in Hollywood that night.

We were in her big red Caddie convertible. I was exhausted and had forgotten all about meeting Noah at the park with my friends. I’d agreed to come, only because I’d learned our apartments had already been rented out. If we didn’t find a place to live, we’d end up on the street in a few days.

Natalie was in the front seat next to Mo. A heavy fog was starting to roll in from the ocean as she glanced out the window. “Cheer up. I’m sure it will be a nice, quiet neighborhood.”

Mo nodded her head, which tonight was adorned with green hair. “That’s ’cause the neighbors are all dead.”

“I’m sure there are some benefits to living next to a cemetery,” I said from the back seat, trying to be positive.

Mo regarded me in the rearview mirror. “Like what?”

“Ghosts,” Natalie said, answering for me. “We could hold our own séances for the neighbors, raise both the dead and a few bucks.”

I remembered the cemetery had some additional benefits that you would find only in Hollywood. “They also show movies in the cemetery and have concerts.” I wasn’t kidding. The movies were shown on the wall of a mausoleum and the summer concerts were outstanding.

“Movies, concerts, the dead, and the pre-dead,” Mo said. “Sounds like paradise. I can’t wait.” She huffed out a breath. “You ask me, there ain’t nuthin’ worse than a bunch of old farts. Just look at Nana.”

Maybe she had a point. I glanced over at Bernie, who was sitting up on the seat next to me. Even he looked a little unsettled, like the way he got when he went to see the vet before Noah came along.

I’d googled the mobile home park a couple of days earlier and learned that the Starlight was built in 1953 by a developer named Abe Coolidge. The place had been designated an historical site, which made it against the law to move or modify any of the vintage homes. From what I read, most of the homes were called coaches or trailers, and were referred to as museum quality.

“Ain’t we too young to live in a mobile home park?” Mo said. “I thought you had to be at least as old as Anthony Perkins’ grandma to live in one of them.”

“Maybe everyone living there
is
dead,” Natalie suggested, her hazel eyes growing bigger. “It could be that we’ll be livin’ with a bunch of mummies.”

Mo shook her head. “I ain’t livin’ with no mummies.”

“Speaking of mummies,” I said, trying to change the subject. “What’s the latest with Nana’s party?”

“Last I heard it’s on hold till she gets a permit to hold it on Hollywood Boulevard. She wants to close the street and hire the Stones.”

“You’re kidding. The Rolling Stones?”

“Given her age, it could be The Kidney Stones,” Natalie said, laughing at her own joke.

“All I know is that she wants a bunch of rock bands there,” Mo said, steering her big boat of a car. She went back to complaining about the Starlight and its adjacent cemetery. “I suppose we all gotta dig the graves for our neighbors in our spare time to pay the rent on this joint.”

“We each get our own shovel,” I said.

“Funny.”

I tried to calm her nerves. “The park is supposed to overlook the graveyard, not be a part of it.”

Natalie turned back to me, thankfully moving the conversation in a different direction. “So I heard on the news that lady that was kidnapped and her kid were released. Why do you suppose the dirty wanker let ’em go?”

“Since the kidnappers got their money, Allison and her daughter were no longer useful.”

Mo called over her shoulder. “I’ll betcha that Marsh woman’s father ain’t gonna rest till he gets his money back.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me. I think the money was more important to him than his family.”

We turned a corner, and the fog now enveloped the road ahead. Mo turned on her headlights. “Lordy, I betcha this place
is
gonna be haunted. The next thing you know, we’re gonna see a dead guy in the road, holding his head under his arm.”

She had a point. The world did seem to suddenly grow dark and ominous. I wondered if we were making a big mistake. Then I again thought about having to live on the street, or worse with my mother, and decided it wasn’t so bad after all.

Natalie seemed unconcerned about our move and asked me about
Hollywood Detective.
“I heard that reporter is stirring up a boatload of cack. Are you gettin’ close to solving the case?”

I didn’t want to go into details, so I said, “We’re still following up on a few leads. It’s hard to say at this point.”

“I saw where that Woods woman is blogging ’bout the case,” Mo said. “According to her, there’s something big ’bout to break.”

What she’d said wasn’t surprising, but I was angry if Woods was, in fact, posting details about our investigation online. “Don’t believe everything you read. We still have some work to do.”

“Hey, what’s the latest on you and the cowboy?” Natalie asked, remembering that I’d mentioned he was now a part of Section One. “It must be difficult working with someone who’s seen your kitty cat and bat cave.”

“Yeah,” Mo agreed. “It’s kinda like going to work with your gynecologist.”

I did my best to suppress the visual images they were suggesting and tried to sound light and airy. “The past is behind us. I don’t even think about what happened between us.”

Mo looked at Natalie and rolled her eyes. “That, baby sis, is what you call a major load of cack.”

The road turned, and we saw a large neon sign up ahead through the fog that read,
Starlight Mobile Home Park.
There was a grassy area below the sign, full of fake flamingos.

“Turn here,” I said to Mo, seeing the long driveway was lined with palm trees. “I think it’s back off the main highway.”

Mo huffed out a breath, turned, gunned the motor, and we shot up the driveway. She slowed down when we saw Noah standing by a clubhouse, talking to an elderly woman.

Mo parked her car and, after a couple of tries, managed to extricate herself from the driver’s seat. We all walked over to Noah and he introduced us to the owner of the property, Madeline Dupree.

After some small talk, Dupree gave us some history on the Starlight. “The park is on ten acres of land. The parcel is worth a fortune, but, luckily for us, it can’t be sold or developed. You are standing in the middle of Hollywood history.”

Our potential landlord looked like she was pushing eighty. Dupree was slender, with flowing red hair. She had a Pomeranian pocket puppy in her purse that caused Bernie to whine. Maybe he was thinking I should start carrying him around in my handbag.

“Looks to me like just a bunch of old trailers,” Mo grumbled under her breath to me as she scanned the area.

She had a point. The mobile homes were a variety of colors, all of them like something you’d see in old photographs from the middle of the last century. There were several more plastic pink flamingos in the grassy area around the clubhouse.

An elderly man passed by us, his bulging eyes fixing on Natalie like something out of a cartoon. She waved to him and he walked into a pole.

“This place ain’t so bad, Mo,” Natalie said, chuckling as the man picked himself up off the ground. “The neighbors seem right friendly.”

“I think you’ll like the trailer when you see it,” Noah said, smiling at what my friends had said. “It’s considered chic vintage.”

“I seen enough cheap vintage to last me a lifetime,” Mo groused.

Our hostess had walked ahead of us and apparently hadn’t heard Mo’s comments. Dupree waved a hand. “Let’s stop by the clubhouse before we see your new home.”

As we entered the building, everyone turned and looked at us.

Mo said, “This place looks like it’s full of those old guys in them Viagra commercials. Next thing you know somebody’s gonna be walkin’ ’round with a painful four hour erection.”

“I’d like to see that,” Natalie said. She asked me, “How do you suppose a bloke gets rid of that problem? Do you think they give him a prescription for a hooker?”

“Maybe,” I whispered, trying to quiet them down as Dupree brought over a little man she introduced as Harvey, the Starlight manager.

“Call me Harv,” the manager said, shaking hands with us. He lingered as he took Natalie’s hand, saying, “’Bout time we got someone here like you. We need to do some pool time tomorrow.”

“My tan is startin’ to fade,” Natalie said. “It’s a spray-on job and could use a touch-up. Maybe you could help me lather up.”

While Harv went into cardiac arrest, a woman, who introduced herself as Maude, had wandered over to us. She gave us the once-over and turned to Madeline Dupree. “I hope you’re not considering renting to them. We have certain restrictions that I’m sure they don’t meet.”

Before I could stop her, Mo said, “You mean ’cause we don’t got one foot in the boneyard?”

“They obviously lack a sense of culture, as well,” Maude said. She cast a dark eye on Bernie. “And they have that.”

“In case you aren’t aware,” Dupree said. “I’m one of the original owners. My property has been grandfathered in, with no age or pet restrictions.”

“I’m going to take this to the residents’ council,” Maude protested, eyeing us like she needed to call a pest control company. “We’ll get a petition started.”

Dupree looked the elderly busybody in the eye and said, “Bite me.” She turned to us. “Let’s go have a look at your new abode.”

As we walked up a row of trailers, I said to Noah, “I don’t want to create a problem by living here.” I looked at Natalie and Mo. “My friends have a hard enough time fitting in under the best of circumstances. I doubt they’re ever going to find common ground with Maude and some of the other neighbors.”

Noah smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m sure there’ll be an adjustment period. Your neighbors will come to love you, just as I do.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an eternal optimist.”

After a short walk, we stopped in front of a pink trailer with lime green trim. It had a carport and small grassy area in front of it.

“This is a Delta Queen,” Dupree said, working her key in the lock. “It’s a very cozy coach.”

Mo leaned over and said, “She must mean cockroach.”

“This place is the bomb,” Natalie said, after entering the Queen and waving us inside.

Mo said something about it needing a roach bomb as we entered. Our new home was about the size of a large trailer, with three small bedrooms and one bath. It would be considered small for one person, let alone a Brit who spent her mornings primping, a large woman with more wigs than an English courtroom, and a cop who was always running late.

After a tour of the home, we met on the grassy patio in front of our
coach.
I searched for something positive to say and finally came up with, “I think they made efficient use of a small space.”

“It’s smaller than a tin crapper,” Mo grumbled. She regarded me. “You’ll end up with a bunch of homicides in less than a week, ’cause we’ll kill each other.”

“I suppose I could give a few of my outfits to Goodwill,” Natalie offered. “I seen walk-in closets bigger than this.”

Dupree glanced at Noah. She grinned and said, “Should we tell them?”

He shrugged. “I guess they’ve suffered long enough.”

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

“I own this coach and the one next to it,” Madeline told me. “You can rent this one and your friends can have the unit next door. It should give you all plenty of space.”

Mo glanced at the coach that was next door to the one we’d just toured, seeing that it was about the same size as the Queen. “This just might work out.”

A half hour later, after touring the other coach, we shook hands with Dupree, sealing a deal for both the modest rent and our fates. We were now the youngest residents of the Starlight Mobile Home Park. Life would never be the same for anyone.