Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (28 page)

Chapter Three

Natalie and I simultaneously jumped back, doing the vomit mambo, as the BM let loose. Unfortunately, the circumference of my dress made it a prime target for the witch’s pitch. I got slimed. For some reason, I imagined the BM cackling at the result and saying, “I got you, my pretty!”

“She’s shouting her groceries,” Natalie yelled. “Somebody get her into the loo.”

Mags, the BM’s daughter, tried to steer her mother toward the bathroom, but Linda Warner fell and had to be carried away by another guest. I ended up in the kitchen with Natalie, running hot water over a rag that I used to try removing the vomit from my rented satin dress.

“It’s ruined,” I said, throwing the rag onto the counter in disgust.

“Fraid the whore’s bath didn’t help it much,” Natalie agreed. “You want me to go poison the BM’s tea? She’s crazy as a bingo bat, anyway.”

“Tempting, but it’s probably not a good idea to have another murder tonight.” I tried to straighten my crumpled dress and pushed back my hair that I was sure now looked like twisted ringlets of fur. “Natalie, can you come upstairs with me while I take a preliminary look at the crime scene? I want you and Mo to tell the other investigators what you know.”

“Sure, just let me get out of these opera pumps.” She removed her high heels. “’Bout to give me a foot hickey.”

At five feet eight inches, Natalie is an inch shorter than me, blonde, and gorgeous. Men drool and step on their penises when they see her. While I have decent features, I have to admit that I’m envious of my best friend, almost to the point of having a girl-crush on Natalie.

We were headed for the stairway when a man dressed in a $5,000 suit cornered us. He introduced himself as Marvin Chauncey, the deceased bride’s agent.

“I need to know the circumstances of what happened here tonight, Ms ...”

“It’s Detective, Detective Sexton,” I said. “And there’s nothing I can tell you at this time. We’re just beginning ...”

“You don’t understand,” Chauncey interrupted, wiping his brow with an embroidered handkerchief.

China’s agent was about fifty with dyed black hair that was braided into cornrows. His diamond stud earrings looked to be at least a carrot each. His demeanor gave the impression of someone who practiced being earnest in the mirror for hours, but just couldn’t quite pull it off when it counted.

“China was about to break into the big leagues,” Chauncey said. “
Hollywood Daybreak
is going national. There’s a lot at stake here.”

“Hollywood what?” I said.

“That morning talk show on the sidewalk,” Natalie explained before Chauncey could break in. “They got those highchairs over on the walk of fame on Sunset and chat it up with all the celebs. It’s a slap and chuckle circus and ...”

“It is,” Chauncey interrupted, clearly unhappy with Natalie’s representation, “a discussion forum for the entertainment industry. It has garnered national attention and acclaim.” His voice broke slightly. “China was about to become a huge star.”

I pushed past Chauncey, telling him that if we had anything worthwhile to tell him I’d been in touch.

“Chauncey just lost his meal ticket,” Natalie said as we headed up the stairs. “The popinjay makes me wanna puke on his Ferragamos.”

“I’ve had enough puking for one day,” I said, just before I heard a man calling out to us from below.

“We demand to know what’s going on here,” the man said as we stopped on the landing and looked down at the crowd. He appeared to be the spokesman for several party goers who had gathered around him and were shouting drunken encouragement.

Another man yelled, “Some of us have important duties to attend to. We’re leaving.”

From somewhere above me I saw a large figure moving. I glanced to the upstairs hallway and saw that Mo had pushed through the line of officers and was coming downstairs to meet us.

Mo is big, black, and has a “don’t take no shit” attitude. Her former duties as a pimp involved her trying to get girls off the street and into a better life, before she and Natalie went into their private detective business.

Mo was wearing a tight little black dress, the operative words being
tight
and
little
. The tiny lacy outfit barely covered her considerable assets, both fore and aft. It gave the impression that another large float had joined my parade.

“You want me to take the rebel rousers outside, stuff a cupcake in their mouths?” Mo asked.

I shook my head. “I’d better make an announcement. Things are getting out of hand.”

Below us, there was more shouting and some movement toward the doors. Allowing the guests to leave the scene before names and statements could be taken was not an option.

“Everyone, please listen to me,” I said, raising my voice.

The crowd settled down for a moment, before a woman shouted, “Why should we listen to you? You look like you belong at a costume party.”

Several other guests apparently found this amusing and joined her in laughing at me.

Between the BM, the barf, the pompous agent, and the angry mob, I’d had enough. “I’m only going to say this once,” I said, my voice coming up another notch. I raised my badge. “This is a police investigation. No one leaves until the scene is secured and statements are taken from everyone. Anyone who fails to comply will be subject to arrest.”

What followed was a mini-riot as a handful of guests surged toward the front door. One of the men took a swing at a uniform and was pepper sprayed. A drunken woman fell, ripped her dress, and began screaming. That’s when the BM came stumbling out of the bathroom, did the Jagger swagger into the living room and said, “Somebody get me a drink.”

About the author

MZ Kelly spent over thirty years in the field of law enforcement. His experience includes dealing with violent felony offenders, making sentencing recommendations to the courts, supervising a detention program for juvenile offenders, running a jail, and developing innovative programs to keep our streets safe. His law enforcement experience was in Southern California, not too far from the famous Sunset Strip, and includes run-ins with some of America’s craziest criminals, not to mention a few wannabe actors, and even an Oscar award winner!

Copyright © 2014 by MZ Kelly

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