Hollywood Prisoner: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (27 page)

The next morning Bernie and I got to the station a couple minutes late because I overslept. I’d talked to Natalie on my way to work. Nana had told her that she believed Boris had been hypnotized by Howie during last night’s performance, and didn’t remember anything about it. I’d told her that was a good thing, because wearing a diaper and sitting in the lap of a nude magician probably would do nothing for his new image.

I settled in at my workstation with a cup of coffee and told Leo, “I’m glad it’s Friday. I’m ready for the weekend.”

Leo agreed with me, then told me about the fallout from yesterday’s events. “Edna’s already been reassigned to West Valley.”

“Does that mean Section One’s going away?”

“Probably, in time. There’s supposed to be an interim lieutenant assigned until a final decision is made. In the meantime, we work our backload of cases.”

“That should be enough to keep us busy for a couple years. Any idea who the new LT is?”

Leo shook his head. “No, but with Dunbar calling the shots, I’m not getting my hopes up that it’s anyone who will have our backs.”

“Do you know if the lieutenant is still here?”

“Packing his office.”

“I’m going to go say goodbye.”

I found Edna in his office, with a half-dozen boxes and mounds of paperwork he was trying to organize.

“I just heard what happened,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” He collapsed into a chair and motioned for me to do the same, as Bernie trotted off to his favorite corner. “The truth is, I was never a good fit for this fucking assignment, anyway. I’ll be better off away from the brass.”

“What about me? Is the hammer going to fall on me for working the Turner case?”

He exhaled. “You didn’t hear this from me, but rumor has it you’re going downtown to work cold cases.”

“Are you kidding me? Why would they want me in the Police Administration Building?”

“You ever heard that old expression about keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer?”

“I guess I know what category I fall into.” I huffed out a long breath, thinking I’d probably end up working with Charlie while he tried to hit on his new partner. I glanced at Bernie, who was stretched out on the floor. “What about him?”

Edna shrugged. “Don’t know, but I wouldn’t think there will be much action for him downtown.”

“You got that right.” The possibility that Bernie might be reassigned entered my thoughts as I called him over to me. I stood and said to the lieutenant, “I want to thank you for your support. I’m sorry things ended like this.”

He came over and took my hand. “I’ve said it before, you’re a natural for this work, Kate. I hope everything works out, wherever you end up, and also with your family situation.”

I ran into Darby on the way back to my desk. He stopped in front of me and muttered, “Thanks for nothing.”

“Edna’s reassignment was the brass’s decision, not mine.”

“If you hadn’t violated orders, Edna would still be here, and we might have a chance to keep the unit.”

There was some truth to what he said, but I still felt compelled to defend myself. “I guess that’s the thanks we get for breaking the case.”

“Whatever.” Darby shook his head and stomped off.

I went back to my desk and told Leo what happened.

“Darby’s always looking for someone to blame,” he said. “Forget about him.”

“Have you seen Mel?”

He shook his head. “Not this morning.”

I settled in, working the mounds of paperwork I had before coming across the case file on the Slayer. As I sifted through the reports and the horrific images of the multiple murder scenes, my thoughts went to Ross Adams. I decided to see if he’d made any progress on his case. After getting him on the line, I asked about the blacksmith that Molly said he was going to check out.

“I’m glad you called,” Adams said. “The guy’s name is Wade Compton. He wasn’t home, so I talked to some neighbors. They described him as a misfit, angry with the world. They said he and his wife haven’t been around for several weeks. I took a look around his property. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but I found some downed eucalyptus trees nearby.”

“Did the neighbors have any idea where he went?”

“Not really, but they said he sells the stuff he makes in his shop. They thought he might have gone on the road, selling it at swap meets.”

“What about his wife?”

“Susan. The neighbors only knew about her from occasionally seeing her coming and going. She was reclusive, never talked to anyone.

“Did you run them through NCIC?”

“Yeah, no record.” He took a moment. I heard papers being shuffled in the background. “I had a thought. It might be a longshot, but...you never know.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Isn’t there a big flea market on Sundays near your neck of the woods, over in Pasadena?”

“It’s at the Rose Bowl. I went there once. It’s huge, with thousands of vendors and buyers. You think he might be selling his stuff there?”

“You never know. We know he’s been practicing his other hobby in your area, maybe he’s supplementing his income.”

“It might be worth checking out.”

“I’m off this weekend. I could meet you there. We could have lunch afterward—just a bite to eat, no strings.”

What Francesca had said about reclaiming my power as a woman came to mind as I considered his offer. While I knew I wasn’t ready for another relationship, his offer seemed harmless, and there was always the outside chance it would help solve our case.

“Sunday sounds good,” I said. “Let’s meet at the entrance to the Rose Bowl around nine. We can talk about lunch afterward.”

After ending the call, I told Leo about our plan to check out the flea market. “Detective Adams thinks there’s a chance the Slayer could be selling what he made in his shop.”

He shrugged. “Maybe...” He smiled. “You sure this is just about the Slayer?”

“I’m sure.” Over Leo’s shoulder, I happened to see Mel walking into the breakroom. “I’m going to take a break. See you in a minute.”

Bernie trotted behind me as I went into the breakroom. I poured myself a cup of coffee and asked Mel if I could join her.

“Of course. I’m just having the mid-morning snack on my five-hundred calorie diet.” She held up her bowl. “They say cantaloupe is the new bacon.”

I chuckled. “Looks delicious.” We chatted about diets and nutrition for a moment before I mentioned Edna’s reassignment. “It looks like it’s a matter of time before Section One goes away.”

“Thanks to Dunbar.” Her dark eyes shifted, seeing that we were alone. She lowered her voice and went on. “Have you talked to that reporter yet?”

“Actually, I was going to try to set something up for this evening.”

“Let me know when and where. I’d like to go with you.”

“Wonderful.” I held on her eyes for a moment. They were glassy, like she was suppressing her emotions. “Why the change of heart about talking to her?”

She sighed. “There was a secretary...” She took a moment. “I’ll explain about her tonight, then you’ll understand.”

She appeared to be on the verge of breaking down, and I knew she wouldn’t want that to happen at work. I rose and made excuses about needing to get back to my desk, adding, “I’ll text you with the details about the meeting.”

After calling Cynthia McFadden and making arrangements for Mel and me to meet her at the Boulevard Cafe, I went back to plowing through paperwork. I ate lunch at my desk and didn’t surface until almost five when I heard a familiar voice.

“So this is how the real Hollywood Detective spends her days.”

“You got that right,” I said to Woody Horton. “No partner today?”

He said hello to Leo, who was tidying up to go home. Woody then told me, “Harry’s kid has some kind of school performance.” He glanced around the station. “You have a moment to talk?”

“Of course.”

We got cups of coffee from the breakroom and took seats in an empty interview room. Bernie plopped down beside me as I said to Woody, “Don’t tell me you’ve got a lead on Pearl.”

He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes. “Sorry. Nothing. This is about Harlee Ryland.”

I took a sip of coffee that tasted like used motor oil. “My best friend. What’s she up to?”

“That’s just it. We’re not sure, but we think she may have moved out of the Tauist Retreat.”

“Moved out? Where?”

“We have no idea, but...” His gaze moved off, came back. “...there’s been some talk about you.”

“What kind of talk?”

“We have a CI who has some contact with the Tauists. He said Harlee has it in for you.”

I took a moment, letting what he said sink in. “I guess I’m not surprised, given what she already said to me. Do you think I’m in danger?”

“Maybe. That’s why I’m here. I just wanted you to know.”

“What do your bosses have to say about this?

Woody kneaded the muscles in his neck. “We’re friends, Kate, so let me just lay it out there. They know what’s happening, but it’s not a priority.”

“You mean they don’t care.”

“There’s some concern, but Dunbar’s running the show. We both know what that means.”

I sighed. “It means I’m expendable.”

Woody didn’t respond, but I knew I was right. Dunbar would be happy if someone with the Swarm finished what Noah Fraser had started. I thanked him and, since the workday was ending, told him we could walk to our cars together.

We were in the parking lot when Woody said, “I almost forgot something. I got some more information on that officer we discussed earlier, the one in the photograph you found in Pearl’s attic.”

“Tom Knight.”

“I’m not sure what, if anything, it means, but we just got his personnel file from when he worked for the department. It shows that when he was off-duty he worked part-time doing security work at Wallace Studios.”

My pulse was racing. “That’s the same studio where my adoptive father worked. It’s where he met Jean Winslow.”

He nodded. “Harry and I thought we’d make a run over to the studio next week and see if there’s any old timers there who might remember him or your dad.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

As Bernie and I left the station, some things about what Woody had told me came together. Pearl and Tom Knight knew one another. There had to also be a connection between my adoptive dad and Tom Knight, since they worked part-time at the same studio. Coincidence is a dirty word in law enforcement. It’s a code word for having missed something in an investigation. This was another kind of coincidence. It told me there was something missing in what I knew about the relationship between Pearl, my adoptive father, and Tom Knight. I was determined to find out what that missing something was.

I dropped Bernie off with Natalie and Mo before making my way to the Boulevard Café in Hollywood. The newer restaurant was tucked away in an alley off Hollywood Boulevard. I’d eaten there once before and knew it had an eclectic menu, everything from burgers to sushi.

I found Cynthia McFadden and Mel already seated at a table on the patio when I arrived.

“Sorry,” I said, taking a seat across from them. “The Friday night traffic was a nightmare, and I seem to be always running a little behind schedule lately. 

“No worries,” Mel said. “Cynthia and I were just catching up.”

My brows went up. “I didn’t know you two knew one another.”

Cynthia McFadden was pretty and slender, with thick brown hair. She reminded me of old photographs I’d seen of Jacqueline Kennedy. 

“Almost ten years ago, Mel and I were in the police academy together,” the reporter explained. “I ended up with a torn meniscus, a different career, and Mel...” She smiled at her. “She ended up with the job I always dreamed about.”

Mel laughed. “Believe me, the job sometimes has its shortcomings.” She cut her eyes to me. “I didn’t say anything before about knowing Cynthia, because...” She drew in a breath. “I guess you could call it shame.”

I touched her hand as a waiter headed our way. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” I thought about what Francesca had said. “We’re here to reclaim our power.”

We took a couple minutes accepting drinks that Mel and Cynthia had already ordered, including a glass of chardonnay for me.

When the waiter left, Mel said, “I’m feeling pretty anxious about what I have to say, so maybe we should get this over with so we can get drunk.”

We laughed. Cynthia told us, “I want you both to know that whatever is said here tonight remains between the three of us, unless it’s agreed otherwise. No exceptions, no bullshit.” She raised her glass to ours. “This is a safe zone.”

We clinked glasses, and I told her I appreciated what she said. I decided I genuinely liked Cynthia and thought it was possible we might even become good friends someday, in spite of her profession.

Mel then took over as she recounted her past, working in the department’s Professional Standards Bureau, or PSB, also more commonly known as Internal Affairs.

“I only had about five years on the job when I was reassigned to the PSB,” Mel said. “I was unsure of myself and still trying to find my way, dealing with both the officers accused of misconduct and their representatives. It was pretty intimidating. That’s when I met Reggie.”

“Chief Dunbar,” Cynthia said.

“He was a lieutenant, working Internal Affairs for the sheriff’s department. He would come by the office from time to time and have coffee with my sergeant. We eventually got to know one another, and he asked me out for a drink.” Mel exhaled and swept her dark hair out of her eyes. “It was the biggest mistake of my life.”

I softened my voice. “You two eventually became involved?”

“Yes, but...God, I was such an idiot.” She took some time to control her emotions. “The first time we got together, he took me to a bar after work. I immediately knew something was wrong. I felt lightheaded and dizzy. The next thing I remembered was waking up in his bed the next morning.”

“He drugged you.”

“I can’t prove it, but I have no doubt that’s what happened.”

“Did you continue to see him?” Cynthia asked.

She nodded. “That’s part of the shame I have. I’d been in a previous relationship, and I guess you could say I was vulnerable. We were together off and on for about six months.” She sniffed. “I ended the relationship when I realized what he was doing to other women.”

The waiter came back to our table, and we placed our orders. I didn’t have much of an appetite so I ordered a salad. We all ordered more drinks, maybe as a way to cope with what we were discussing.

When the server was gone, Mel continued. “In time, I came to realized that Reggie was seeing other women, lots of women. A few weeks after we ended our relationship, I found out from my sergeant that he was involved with a clerk who worked downtown at the PAB.”

“The Police Administration Building,” Cynthia said.

“Yes. The clerk’s name was Sally Kemp. I knew her from meetings we’d attended together. She apparently knew about my past involvement with Reggie and asked me to have coffee one afternoon.” She released a long breath. “To make a long story short, our chief of police was raping her.”

“Was he using drugs on her?” I asked.

“Initially, but even when she tried to end the relationship, he would show up at her apartment and force himself on her. Sally said she was so distraught that she did some investigating on her own and found out he was seeing several other women.” Mel looked at Cynthia. “I can provide you with a list of the names of the women Sally gave me. I’m sure there are also others out there that he’s taken advantage of.”

“Do you think Sally would be willing to talk to me?” Cynthia asked.

Mel shook her head. “About six months after I met with her, she committed suicide.”

We were all quiet for a moment, feeling the impact of what Mel had told us. I then summarized my feelings. “We have a police chief who is a rapist, with a past history of drugging his victims. There is no way this monster should be in a position of authority. He needs to be in prison.”

Cynthia agreed. “My thoughts, exactly. I’m going to do a couple of things. First, after I get the names of the women Dunbar was abusing, I’m going to contact them and see if they’ll talk. Once I do that, with the permission of you both, I’m going to the mayor and the DA. One way or another, Reginald Dunbar is going down. It’s just a matter of time.”