Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (10 page)

Chapter Twenty

Skully gave Hudson Mackenzie five minutes to speak to the newly assembled taskforce, but not until after he spent another five minutes haranguing me in his office. He accused me of threatening to leak Mackenzie’s information to the press if the PI wasn’t allowed to talk.

We then had another blackout conversation, during which he berated my dog, my mother, and the earth’s entire female population. I responded by asking him if he hated women because he was the world’s oldest mama’s boy.
We finally gave up, probably because we were both armed and dangerous to one another.

Once we all assembled in the conference room and Bernie settled into a corner, the day’s events went from bad to worse. We were informed that two detectives from HSS would be joining what Skully now referred to as the, OK Task Force, apparently deciding that he liked the Occult Killer handle the press had invented.

“I’ve asked Alex Kennedy and Stan Baker to join the taskforce,” Skully said, introducing the two men. “As you know, these veteran detectives have years of experience working numerous assignments, including homicide.” Skully’s eyes swung in my direction and he smiled. “They will now be the lead investigators on this case.”

I wanted to throw up. I’d had a run-in with both cops on my last case.

Kennedy was a porky middle-aged, no nonsense type, with a mean streak, who pushed all the wrong buttons. Baker was his opposite, a short, arrogant, ladies’ man—someone who wanted to climb his way to the top while stepping on anyone who got in his way. Skully continued to sing their praises until he paused to take a call.

While he was on the phone, Baker leaned over to me, displaying his perfect white teeth, and whispered, “It will be a plea
sure working with you, Sexton. Can’t wait to clean up your shit.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said. “Come by my place every morning. I’ll get you a shovel and you can poop scoop after Bernie.”

“Funny,” Kennedy said, his bushy moustache partially hiding a smirk. “Just mind your own business or you’ll regret it.”

“Is that a threat? I whispered. “Because if it is, here’s one for you. Keep your fat ass out of my way or I’ll have my big dog bite off your little dick, if he can find it.”

Kennedy’s fleshy face turned red and his eyes narrowed into slits as Skully ended his call and continued. He said something that made my heart sink even further.

“Beginning tomorrow, the chief has asked the feds to become involved in this investigation, creating a joint taskforce.” Skully’s gray eyes swiveled to Macken
zie for a moment. “Nothing I’ve mentioned today is confidential, as the chief of police will make an announcement about this to the press shortly.”

My last run-in with the feds had been a nightmare.
Turning the investigation over to an arrogant federal bureaucracy would only further complicate things. I had the feeling this was another of several changes that would ultimately result in my involvement in the case getting pushed farther to the fringes.

“Okay everyone,” Skully continued, “I’ve asked a private investigator, Mr. Hudley Mackenzie, to provide us with some in
formation that might be of use. You have exactly five minutes, Mr. Mackenzie.”

“Thank you, Captai
n Skully,” the private investigator began. “And just for the record it’s Hudson, not Hudley.”

He turned to me for an instant and smiled. As Mackenzie began addressing the group, he was confident and at ease. There was something in his demeanor that made the boys in the room seem like just that, boys. Maybe I’d done the wrong thing by turning down his dinner offer.

“Credit for what I’m about to tell you belongs to Detective Sexton,” Mackenzie continued. “She took the initiative to see me this morning. It was clear from our discussion that I needed to break a confidential agreement and provide some information to the police.”

Mackenzie went on to explain how he’d been informally hired by the
Bryant’s to look into the disappearance of their daughter. He told us what he’d learned on the streets about Chloe having been taken in by a cult, and how that cult was involved in drugs and sex, and possibly something darker.

“That all fits with what we’ve learned, so far,” Skully said, his voice kicking up a notch. “Can you tell us anything specific about Chloe Bryant’s involvement with this group?”

“No, but I can tell you that she’ll be on the Santa Monica pier at noon tomorrow. She called her mother and wants to come home, apparently because the other women involved have threatened her. Marilyn Bryant wanted me to meet Chloe tomorrow and bring her in. I have no doubt that’s why she was murdered and that she probably gave up Chloe’s plan before she died.”

What followed was a discussion, also known as a free-for-all, during which the newly formed taskforce debated and argued about how to handle the Chloe Bryant situation.

“We sweep in and take the girl off the streets before she walks onto that pier,” Kennedy said.

“We do that,” I said, “and we miss the best chance we have to find
Myra. She’ll be there, trying to get to Chloe. We can’t miss this opportunity to take her down.”

“We have no way of knowing that,” Baker said, his threaded eyebrows knitting together. “What you’re proposing could put the girl in danger.”

I was surprised when Charlie spoke up, supporting me. Maybe it was the added confidence his darker hair gave him or the sex, yuck, but he left no doubt about where he stood.

“Kate’s right. Thi
s is our chance to stop whoever’s involved in this cult. We miss the opportunity to take Myra down and who knows how many other killings we’ll have on our hands.”

My partner took a little of the edge off his argument by reaching under the table and snaking a chocolate donut from his briefcase.

“That’s just speculation,” Kennedy said. “You guys have been watching too many cop shows on TV. We need to be proactive, but cautious, do some basic police work. We take the girl in, question her, and follow up on the information.”

Skully m
ust have realized that the private investigator was still in the room and interrupted. “Mr. Mackenzie, I want to thank you for the information you’ve brought forth today. You are dismissed. Please keep our discussion confidential.”

Mackenzie stood and nodded. “I can’t leave without giving you my take on this. Protect the girl and take down the bad people. You can do both. Go undercover, fill the streets and the pier with your people. Take Chloe in and, if
Myra and the others are there, don’t miss the chance to take them out. You can protect both the community and the girl.”

Mackenzie
leaned over to me. “I’ll be in touch.” I felt a fluttering in my chest as he left the room.

The free-for-all continued for another half hour, before Pearl’s gentle wisdom prevailed. “We all want the same thing,” Pearl said. “We want to take the girl into custody and stop the killings. But we need to keep in mind this thing is big: multiple murders, strange messages, a deadly cult. We haven’t seen anything this big since a guy name Charlie Manson was loose on the streets.
That means that we go big or we risk going home with only half of what we came for. We take the girl into custody and put an end to these killings by taking out the source.”

After a few more rumblings out of Kennedy and Baker, what Pearl had said seemed to seal the deal for Skully.

“We work both angles,” the captain said. “We go undercover with lots of men and play a waiting game before we take the girl into custody. We take the cult down tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Early the next morning, Bernie and I stopped by my mother’s house to check on her and Robin. I found my brother in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He looked a little more dazed and run-down than the last time I’d seen him.
Dealing with our mother was obviously taking its toll. Still, I was upset that Robin had gone behind my back and contacted Natalie about seeing Karma.

“Did Miss Daisy come out of her trance, yet?” I asked, p
ouring myself a cup of coffee while Bernie sniffed the floor for crumbs.

“Miss Daisy is driving me crazy. I don’t think I can do this more than another day or two.”

I felt sorry for him, forgetting my earlier anger. “Lolly still talking about the devil?”

“Something like that. She slips in and out of these weird states. One minute I’m talking to her like she’s Mom, and the next I get all this bizarre stuff.”

“Where is she?”

He motioned to the psychic parlor. “Sitting in there, staring off into space.”

I excused myself and went into the parlor.

“How’s it going, Mother?” I asked.

Her gaze swung over to me. “Kate, it seems like I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?”

Maybe she’d
forgotten the events of the past few days. Trauma can sometimes have that effect.

“I’ve just been a little busy with work
. How are you feeling?”

“I’m thinking about heading to New York for that peace demonstration.”

I felt my lips tighten into a grimace. She had been planning the protest in Central Park for weeks, something that wouldn’t be a concern, except my mother planned to demonstrate in the nude.

“I think you need to stay home and rest for a few more days
. You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

“You worry too much…” Her words drifted away, her eyes losing focus.

“Mom, what is it?”

“The message has been sent.”

The voice I heard was changed, deeper than before. Mom’s unfocused eyes fluttered and rolled back in her head for a moment. I realized this was now Lolly, and she was speaking to me.

“What? I don’t understand what you mean.”

“The one who rides the white horse is coming.”

Was she talking about the tarot card? “You mean the death card, Mom…I mean, Lolly?”

“Yes. The rider who visited this room brings death into the world. It is all around us.” Her eyes focused on me. “It will come again, today.”

Despite everything I knew about my mother being a bit of a nut, I couldn’t help but feel my skin prickle with concern. “What do you mean? Where will I find the rider?”

She shook her head slowly. “The rider will find you.”

I tried a few more times to m
ake sense of what she’d said, but after more talk about doom and gloom I gave up and joined Robin again.

“I’m worried about her,” I said. “She has no business going to New York.”

“Not sure we can stop her. She’s mentioned it several times.”

I changed the subject. “Can you do me a favor and watch Bernie today? I’m doing a little undercover work and can’t have him with me.”

“The Occult Killer?”

“You know I’m sworn to secrecy.”

He reached down, nuzzling my big dog. “You know that Bernie’s always welcome.”

I thanked him and was about to leave when I remembered what Natalie had told me. “I understand that you met with Karma yesterday.”

“Sorry, I went around you, Sis, but I knew Natalie worked for her and just couldn’t pass up the chance to meet her.”

“How did it go?”

His eyes brightened. “She may be going on tour in the next few weeks and thinks she can use me. She wants me to come by, try out a couple of hair extensions on her.”

As he spoke, his eyes had drifted up to my hair. “What?” I insisted.

“I think you could use…another tune up. We need to try a different product.”

I sighed, remembering my morning battle with the frizzies. “Just as soon as I get into my Clowndog outfit and catch a killer.”

***

Yes, I said Clowndog outfit. I was on the Santa Monica Pier with Charlie at ten that morning working a booth called, The Clowndog Pound. Our assignment was orchestrated by Skully, probably with the aid of Kennedy and Baker.

“It’s either the Clowndog booth or you do parking lot patrol,” Skully had told us.

We settled for the humiliation, only so that we could be on the pier near the action. Our job duties consisted of serving up various doggie style hotdogs. We
soon learned how to dish up, Barkers, Mutt Muffins, Poodle-Doodles, Screaming Weenies, and my personal favorite, the Johnny Long Dog.

“We’ll never live this down,” Charlie said.

“Maybe they’ll let us keep the costumes so we can wear them on Halloween,” I said, trying to make light of a bad situation. Our outfits consisted of a strap-on dog nose and a pointy hat with floppy ears attached that hung down to our shoulders.

Charlie dealt with the humiliation by fixing himself a Johnny Long Dog with all the trimmings, devouring it before going back for some fries. Nothing like a few hundred calories to drown your sorrows.

As I served up dogs to whiny kids and even whinier parents, I occasionally looked up and took in the surveillance teams milling around on the pier. A few of the officers were dressed as maintenance workers, including Pearl, who worked a broom and dustpan along the pier railing. There were also ticket-takers, Ferris wheel attendants, and some tourists, all undercover cops.

I
noticed that some of the feds had also begun to trickle in, interspersed with the other cops. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to spot them, with their special agent haircuts and arrogant smirks.

Skully, Kennedy, and Baker had scored prime spots working in an outdoor souvenir booth, dressed in civilian clothing. I occasionally saw them look in our direction, their shit-eating grins almost wide enough to pop down a Johnny L
ong Dog sideways.

Just before noon, we got the signal over our earpieces. It was from one of the undercover officers stationed in the parking lot, using the code name we’d decided on for Chloe.

“Dorothy is in the parking lot.”

When I heard the call
I knew one thing for certain. Chloe Bryant sure as hell wasn’t in Kansas anymore.