Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (12 page)

We spent another half hour with Winifred Shaw trying to get details about the man she saw leaving Campbell Turner’s house. Other than telling us the man was probably close to six feet tall, with an average build and sandy hair, we didn’t get much. Shaw did agree to work with a sketch artist to provide a likeness of the subject. We then met with Darby and Mel in a nearby coffee shop and updated them on what we’d learned.

“It could be that someone murdered Campbell before anyone else arrived at the house,” Leo suggested. “Lambert finds the body when he gets there, blames Morgan, and shoots him.”

“Just to cover all the possibilities,” Mel said, “maybe Campbell was having an affair with this older guy the neighbor saw, they had some kind of an argument, he killed her, then left before Lambert and Morgan got there.”

“It could also be that the guy who came by the house was Campbell’s dealer, and she paid the price for not paying her drug debts,” Darby said.

“It doesn’t explain the level of violence used on Campbell,” I said. “Whoever murdered her was full of rage.”

“I’ve known a lot of angry drug dealers.”

I ignored his comment as Mel asked, “So where do we go from here?”

Bernie was eyeing the muffin I was having with my coffee, so I broke off a piece and gave it to him. “We need to go by Klondike Studios tomorrow, see what they know about Campbell’s drug use and her relationship with Morgan. We should also talk to her parents again, ask them what they know about her using heroin.”

“We also need to talk to Luke Morgan’s parents,” Mel said. “Maybe they know something more about his relationship with Campbell.”

Leo agreed, adding, “Maybe in the meantime, Lambert will come out of seclusion and we can get some answers from him.”

“I was just looking at a news feed on my phone,” Mel said. “The press is calling Lambert a hero.”

“Depending on how things shake out, he might go from hero to zero,” I said.

After we told Darby and Mel that we would see them at the station in the morning, Leo and I left the city and drove up into the hills near Runyon Canyon. Pearl rented a caretaker’s cottage on a large estate there. Even though he’d left the residence several weeks earlier, we hoped that since he’d been seen in Hollywood, that maybe he’d returned home.

The estate’s caretaker granted us access to the property and unlocked the cottage. After telling him that we’d be sure to lock up when we were finished, he left us alone to take a look at things.

“Everything looks about the same as the last time I was here,” Leo said, after we’d taken a cursory look through the living room and kitchen.

We’d both gone by the property previously, on separate occasions, looking for Pearl. I agreed with what he’d said, adding, “I don’t think he’s been back here.” I glanced down the hallway. “Let’s check the bedroom, then call it a day.”

We went into the bedroom, where things looked the same as the last time we’d been there. I decided to check the walk-in closet. I saw there were a couple shirts that had fallen off their hangers, again giving me the impression that Pearl had left in a hurry. I was about to leave the closet when I looked up and saw there was an access panel in the ceiling that looked like it led to the attic.

Leo came over. “Find anything?”

I pointed out the panel. “I just noticed there’s a covering at the top of the closet. Do you think it’s worth taking a look up there?”

He shrugged. “Why not. Let me get a chair from the kitchen.”

A couple minutes later, he returned with a chair and was able to lift the covering up. He used a small flashlight and took a moment looking around before saying, “There’s a shoebox up here.”

He handed the box down to me and, after helping him down, we went over to the dresser. I lifted the lid on the shoebox and saw there were several old photographs inside.

“Anything interesting?” Leo asked, looking over my shoulder in the dim light.

“It looks like…” I paused, shuffling through the dozen or so old photographs. They were mostly candid shots, taken with people neither of us recognized. “…maybe these were taken several years ago, around the time Pearl would have been new to the police department.”

Leo pointed to one of the last photos in the group. “What about that one?”

I reached over and turned on a lamp so that we could take a better look at the photograph. It took me several seconds to realize what we were seeing.

“It’s Pearl as a very young man,” Leo said. “He’s with…”

I interrupted him, the realization about the woman in the photo now registering. “My mother.”

An hour later, Natalie and Mo saw me and Bernie arriving home and came over. We took seats on my patio, where I showed them the photograph I’d found.

“It was in a shoebox at the top of Pearl’s closet. The woman he’s with is my biological mother, Judie Crawford.”

Natalie clapped her hands, raised her voice. “This proves he is your daddy.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why else would he keep a picture of himself and your mama hidden away all these years?” Mo said. “What other explanation could there be?”

I sighed. “It’s hard to say. All I do know is that I’m more confused than ever. And I don’t understand why Pearl would be hiding out.”

Natalie had brought wine with her and poured us all glasses. “Maybe that Harlee Ryland beeatch has taken over where her granddaddy left off and has it in for both you and Pearl.”

“That might explain what’s happening,” Mo agreed.

I accepted the glass of wine from Natalie and took a sip. “All I know is that I’ve got to find Pearl and find out what’s going on.”

“Speakin’ of finding people, what’s the latest with you finding Campbell Turner’s killer?”

“You mean your source hasn’t updated you?” I said.

“Charlie’s got bigger issues to deal with,” Natalie said, giggling.

I played dumb. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He’s like a squirrel on a leash, but we managed to pry things out of him.”

“It’s a classic case of RPS,” Mo said.

“What’s that?”

“Red Penis Syndrome.”

I worked on my wine again, then said, “You mean it’s a real medical condition?”

“’Course. You forget, I was a pimp, gettin’ girls off the streets not too long ago. The technical name for what he’s got is dysaesthesia. Lotta guys end up with it.”

“Mo’s like a doctor when it comes to penises,” Natalie chimed in.

“What’s the cure?” I asked Mo.

She shrugged. “There’s some medications, but that would require him going to the doctor. I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“He’s also gotta stop having sex,” Natalie said.

I chuckled, already feeling the effects of my wine. “It looks like Charlie might be in for a permanent case of RPS.”

“Let’s go back to Campbell Turner,” Mo said. “I heard something about her dealer today.”

She now had my attention. I set my glass down. “The case is stalling out a bit, so we can use all the help we can get.”

“Word has it there’s a guy who worked at Klondike Studios with Campbell. He’s a dealer and goes by the name Garth. Not sure that’s his real name, or ‘bout his last name.”

“Is he a major dealer?”

“From what I heard, he’s a middle man, but has access to all kinda drugs. You guys need to shake him down.”

“Consider it done.”

We finished one bottle of wine, and Natalie went next door to get another. While she was gone, Mo said, “I’m a little worried ‘bout baby sis.”

“What’s going on?”

“She’s on the rebound from Izzy, and you know how she gets.”

“I hope she’s not hooking up with anybody.”

Mo’s dark eyes swung over to their mobile home as Natalie came out carrying another bottle of wine. My hefty friend lowered her voice. “I’m concerned ‘bout her and Howie.”

“Oh, no.”

“I’m not sure what would happen if those two ever got together. We need to keep an eye on her tomorrow night during Boris’s makeover.”

“What about his makeover?” Natalie asked, overhearing part of what Mo had said.

Mo looked at me. “I was just tellin’ Kate when we get through with him, he won’t be safe ‘round Nana.” She met Natalie’s eyes. “She’ll probably try and jump his bones.”

“If that’s the case, there’s gonna be some trouble.”

“What you talkin’ ‘bout, baby sis?”

“Nana called a little while ago. She said Boris’s mum is gonna be there for the makeover, along with a bunch of relatives.”

“I thought Wilhelmina was out of commission ‘cause of that curse Kate put on her.”

“I didn’t put a curse on her,” I said, remembering that I’d merely given Nana information about a woman, who I met on a previous case, with some purported skills in the dark arts. “If you’ll remember correctly, all I did was give Griselda Lugosi Nana’s phone number.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Natalie said. “Griselda’s put the whammy on her. Nana said Wilhelmina looks like her face exploded. I got a feeling all hell’s gonna break loose tomorrow night.”

I was about to leave for work the next morning when Joe Dawson called. “Just thought I’d see how life is back on the mean streets of Hollyweird,” he said.

“Life is…” I took a moment, trying to explain my week. “Never a dull moment. Murder never seems to take a holiday. How’s the shoulder?”

“Good as new. I’m back in business. I thought I’d update you on a few things.”

I held my breath, thinking about Jenson Moore and my sister. “I’m listening.”

“We got a tip the Swarm is regrouping, going back underground to plan their next attack.”

“That doesn’t sound promising. Anything on Lindsay?”

“Negative, but word has it the group may be moving their operations to your neck of the woods.”

“You mean Hollywood?”

“Southern California, not exactly sure of the city. We’ve got some feelers out, trying to pin things down.”

I took a breath. “I’m not sure where that leaves us.”

“It leaves us with our expanded operations coming to La La Land in the next week. We’ll likely set up shop in the Los Angeles FBI office. Greer said he’ll check with your chief about you joining us when we get there, since Lindsay’s still a key player.”

“There’s something…” I started to tell him about Moore contacting me, but then again thought about Lindsay being in danger and changed my mind.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I’m just worried about my sister.”

“Hopefully, she’s still undercover and working for us. Don’t give up the faith.” He paused, then asked, “Anything new with looking into things there?”

I knew he was asking about the investigation into my adoptive father’s murder. I told him about the photograph Leo and I found, then added, “I’m not sure what it means, but it looks like Pearl had the photo of himself and my bio-mom all these years.”

“It could mean that he
is
your father.”

I sighed. “I’m not sure. I just need to find him and get some answers.”

“Maybe we can work on things together when I get there.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“A fresh set of eyes sometimes helps put things in perspective. Maybe we can talk about recent developments, and I can give you my take on everything.”

“I appreciate that.”

After the call ended, I poured myself another cup of coffee and gave Bernie a doggie snap. With the FBI coming to Los Angeles, it meant the heat would be turned up on the entire investigation. It also meant they would probably get closer to the truth about Jenson Moore contacting me. There was no way I could handle a group as violent and unpredictable as the Swarm on my own. I made a decision that I would meet with Moore and then contact Joe about what he said. While there was some risk to my sister in letting the feds in on what was happening, I decided it was the only way I would have a chance of saving Lindsay.

Bernie and I got to work a few minutes late. We found our working group was already assembling in Lieutenant Edna’s office.

“You setting your own hours now?” Darby said, as I took a seat next to Leo, and we waited for Edna.

I glared at him. “If you were my boss, I’d answer that. Since you’re not, I’ll just say mind your own business.”

“Wow. Someone’s a little touchy this morning.” Darby looked at Mel. “Maybe the Hollywood Detective got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

His reference was to a cable TV show that Leo and I had recently appeared on, where a TV crew followed us while we worked a case.

“Cut her a break,” Mel said. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

I was grateful for her putting her partner in his place. I made a mental note to thank her later.

Edna arrived ten minutes later and wasted no time using his favorite adjective. “This fucking case is now at the top of the Dumbbell and Dumbo solve list. What’s the latest?”

The lieutenant had used our new chief’s moniker and one that he’d recently dreamt up for our captain. We spent the next twenty minutes going over the latest developments, including Winifred Shaw having seen a man in a bloody shirt leaving Campbell Turner’s house about an hour before Blake Lambert arrived home.

“We’re going to have Shaw work with a sketch artist today,” I said.

“What does Lambert have to say about all this?” Edna asked.

“He’s in seclusion, not answering calls,” Mel told him.

“Fuck. Find him. He’s got to know a lot more than he told us.” He exhaled, mumbling a couple expletives under his breath. “Did our vic’s parents have anything worthwhile to say?”

I answered. “Jimmy Castello clearly doesn’t like Blake Lambert. He called him a user, and I got the impression he thinks the crime went down different than Lambert told us. Castello wants all the facts, but didn’t really give us anything to go on.”

“Campbell’s mom wasn’t much help, either,” Leo said. “She and Castello have been divorced for more than a decade. She lives with a boyfriend, Darrin Stone—no record. I got the impression that she and Campbell weren’t close, so she really didn’t know what was going on in her life.”

“We need to go by Klondike Studios, where Campbell filmed her TV show,” I said. “My friend Mo Simpson said word on the street is there’s a dealer working there who goes by the name Garth.” I looked at Darby. “And before you say anything, she volunteered the information. I didn’t talk to her about the case.”

“Right,” Darby grumbled. He looked at the lieutenant. “It’s funny how her friends always know about our cases.”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it,” Edna said. He looked at me. “Work the lead.” He looked around the room. “What else?”

Selfie, who had orange hair this morning, spoke up. “We did a little research on Campbell Turner. She spent some time in Skylar about two years ago. It’s one of those pricey drug programs up in the hills above Dana Point, near San Diego.”

“I guess it didn’t work out so well,” Mel said.

“Just another DFZ dropout,” Darby said.

I looked at him. “What’s that?”

“Drug Free Zone. Druggies or their parents pay a small fortune for these high-class programs and they all come out addicts.”

“That’s not true,” Leo said. “I’ve seen lots of people stay clean.”

“Whatever,” Darby grumbled. “The prescription obviously didn’t take in our victim’s case.”

“There’s something else,” Molly said. Our older crime analyst had on a green blouse that complimented her auburn hair. “Our victim was in the program at the same time as Adriana.”

“Who?” Edna asked.

“Adriana Montoya. She’s that singer who won two Grammys last year.”

“‘Hello My Love’,” I said.

Edna scowled at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s Adriana’s most famous song.”

The lieutenant looked back at Molly and Selfie. “I don’t know what good that does us.”

Selfie exchanged glances with Molly. “We were thinking maybe we could try and contact Adriana, see if she would talk to our investigators. They roomed together while in Skylar, so maybe Campbell confided in her.”

“That was two years ago,” Darby said. “It’s a waste of time.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “It could be that whoever killed Campbell knew her for several years, and they had past issues.”

Darby scoffed as Edna said to our analysts, “It’s worth a try.” He then turned his attention to the rest of us. “Jimmy Castello is talking about going to the press if something doesn’t break on this case soon. He believes there’s a lot more going on with his daughter’s murder than we’ve found out. That’s made Chief Dunbar very unhappy. He wants to meet at the PAB at four this afternoon for an update.” The lieutenant looked at me, referencing my past issues with our chief. “Everybody is expected to be there. No fucking excuses.”