Hollywood Lust (23 page)

Joe Dawson and I rode to the airport together after the meeting. I’d done my best to discount what Jeremy Spender had said, but the more I thought about it, I knew what he’d speculated was a possibility. Ice had already alienated my sister from me. That might have been the beginning stages of an even more ambitious plan; to turn her into one of The Swarm. It could even be that she would eventually be recruited to become one of their leaders. If that was the case, and she was radicalized, there was no telling what she might be capable of. While I loved my sister and didn’t want to believe it, I’d seen others who had been programed and co-opted to carry out horrific events. It made the urgency of finding her all the greater.

“There must be a lot going on up there,” Dawson said.

I turned to him. “I’m sorry?”

“In your mind. You haven’t said anything for the past ten minutes.”

We were stuck in heavy traffic. I glanced out the window and sighed. “I’m just worried…” I looked over at him. “Do you think Spender could be right about my sister?”

“Jerry’s a blowhard, a pompous little dick. Let it go.”

“But it is possible.”

“Anything’s possible, Buttercup. I might sprout a pair of wings, click my magic shoes together, and take us to the airport.”

Despite my depression, a wave of laughter hit me. “Now
that
I would like to see.”

“You hang around me long enough, there’s no telling what will happen.”

I smiled and glanced down at Lindsay’s necklace. I was twisting it in my hands like a talisman. My eyes grew heavy. “So, where do you think we go from here?”

“I’m not sure.” He turned his head, regarding me. “All I know for sure is one thing. Emotions won’t win this battle. We keep the faith and work this case like any other. Blue-eyed soul, Kate.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, losing focus. “I’m not so sure about my soul anymore.”

“’Course you are. It’s everything good about you, just like the guy who raised you said in so many words.”

I tried to smile. “I appreciate you saying that.”

He was quiet for a moment before going on. “I knew an old boxer once. He worked out of a beat-up gym where I learned to fight as a kid. He told me the secret to boxing has nothing to do with throwing a good punch, footwork, or even being in the best condition possible. It has to do with protecting your center, your core.”

My eyes found him again. “It’s the same for the soul.”

“You got it.” His big features softened and he smiled. “Think of it as rope-a-dope. You put your hands up, cover up, and protect the only thing God really gave you—the center of who you are.”

My lips finally managed to turn up. “I didn’t realize you were a philosopher, Joe.”

His smile was still there. “Like I said, stick around long enough and who knows?”

I reached over and touched his arm. “Thanks. I think I needed that.”

***

I got home from Boston late that night and picked up Bernie. I then went home, tried to put everything out of my mind, and went straight to bed.

The next morning I made plans to return to work, telling Oz that I’d be in at noon. On my way into the station, I met Brie for coffee at a place called Dirty Ray’s. The coffee shop had cinnamon rolls to die for and an outdoor seating area that overlooked the city. While we waited for my friend, I gave in to Bernie’s food stare-down and broke off a piece of my roll.

I looked up, realizing Brie had arrived and she’d seen what I’d done. She took a seat across from me and said, “I see somebody’s got your number.”

“We’re partners, but I have no doubt who’s the alpha-dog.” I smiled, noticing she had an Hawaiian-print scarf covering her head. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay…day at a time.” She sipped her coffee. “All I know for sure is that I’ve had things far easier than you have over the past couple of days.”

I took a moment, acknowledging what happened at the courthouse and with Lindsay. “I’m doing my best to focus and not give into the horror of everything…” I blinked back a tear. “I know I’ve got to be strong for my sister.”

After she tried a little pep talk, Brie asked, “Do you have any leads on where Lindsay might be?”

I shook my head. “It’s hurry up and wait.”

We went on for a few minutes, with Brie again trying to bolster my spirits, before she got to the reason she wanted to get together. “I went over the autopsy and medical reports on…” She looked around and lowered her voice. “…on that case you wanted me to look at. The tox screens were consistent with a barbiturate overdose. Our victim also had an alcohol level of .11, so it was definitely a lethal combination.”

“But the drugs could have, either been forced on her, or maybe put in a drink?”

“It’s possible, and there’s something else.” She glanced at the other customers again before going on. “It’s, of course, impossible to be definitive, but the fracture in question could have been the result of domestic violence just as you speculated.”

“But you can’t be sure?”

“Not about the fracture itself, however, her body had several other signs, which today would have been considered consistent with domestic violence. Her tympanic membrane, or eardrum, was ruptured, indicating a probable blow to the head. There was also some bruising and scrapes on parts of her body that would have been concealed by clothing, something that’s common in DV cases.” Brie reached into the file and showed me a couple of photographs of Winslow’s body. “There are some other injuries that weren’t even discussed in the reports. They look like burns to me.”

I saw that she was referring to several small circular areas on the victim’s breasts. “Burns, as in?”

“Cigarettes. It would have been a common method of abuse back then, given that a greater percentage of the population smoked.”

I gave her back the photographs. “So what you’re saying is that our victim had a lot of injuries, consistent with ongoing traumatic physical abuse.”

“If I were the physician completing the reports that would be one of my conclusion.”

After we finished discussing the autopsy results I mentioned our meeting with Lana Palmer. “She said that, along with Donald Regis, there was another man who became involved with Winslow. His name is Kellen Malone. He was a producer back then and, according to what Natalie and Mo found out, he still lives in the area. Mo said the talk on the streets is that he’s still into some bad stuff, whatever that means.”

“It sounds like you have two suspects.” She sipped her coffee and then added, “The problem is the case is so old that tying either Regis or Malone to Winslow’s death is going to be extremely problematic.”

I smiled. “Nothing’s ever easy.”

After finishing our coffee, Brie walked with Bernie and me to my car. She asked, “How are things with you and Noah?”

I told her about him fixing me dinner and that we were growing closer. “He wants to go away, and…” I smiled. “I think I’m ready. He’s probably the most grounded person I’ve met in a long time, not to mention handsome, and…” The smile grew wider. “You know.”

“He sounds like he’s everything you’ve been waiting for.”

“I hope so.”

***

After arriving at the station I met with Oz and Leo in the lieutenant’s office. I filled them in on my federal case and told them about Lindsay. They both expressed their concern. Oz gave me permission to work the case whenever the feds needed me. We were then joined by Selfie and Molly and I got an update on the Reeder and Hodge cases.

“Yesterday, I went back and had a long chat with Wanda Marshall,” Leo said in his smooth baritone. “Based on what she said, I’m convinced that Elton’s condition is consistent with paraphilia. She said he had an intense attraction to anyone with a deformity or other medical problem, even as a child.”

“Dr. Kingsley,” I said to Oz, raising my brows. “Who knew?”

Oz regarded Leo. “He’s a man of many mysteries.”

Leo smiled, but otherwise ignored the banter and went on. “I then went back to Jason Quail and asked him about Reeder, whether he ever had any medical problems. As it turns out, Reeder had colon cancer a couple of years before he was murdered. He had surgery and chemo. According to Quail, the disease had been in remission.”

“We know that Carla Hodge suffered from anorexia,” I said, following along. “Do you think it’s possible Elton was somehow involved in the lives of both victims because of their medical problems?”

Leo nodded at Selfie and Molly.

Selfie took up the discussion. “That’s been our working theory for the last couple of days. As we speculated before, it could be that Elton worked with his brother on some of the photographic shoots and that’s when he met Bruce Reeder. His mother said Elton’s bisexual, so it’s possible he was the subject Reeder was involved with when he broke up with Quail.”

“And Galen found out about it, disapproved, and ended the relationship for good,” I said.

Molly agreed. “It could have also been that Galen was trying to control his younger brother’s lifestyle, he and Reeder exchanged words about it, and Elton’s lover payed the ultimate price.”

“Does anybody at Bernstein Studios remember Elton working there with his brother?”

“We went back there yesterday but, so far, we’ve struck out.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything,” Oz said. “This all went down a decade ago and Elton, if he was there, probably wouldn’t have made much of an impression.”

“Except on Bruce Reeder,” I said. I turned to Leo. “We know that Carla Hodge had anorexia. Is there some possible tie-in to Elton?”

“It’s just speculation at this point, but we’ve been working on the assumption that Elton might be a nurse or nurse’s aide. It would give him access to people with medical problems.”

“We’re checking out the doctor’s offices and hospitals where Carla was treated,” Molly said. “The problem is, we’ve got nothing in the system in the way of employment records or an address on Elton Marshall. If he’s been working in the medical field, it could mean that he changed his name, but, so far, we’re drawing blanks.”

After the meeting ended Leo and I went for coffee in the breakroom. Bernie sniffed around the floor for crumbs as we took seats at a table. One of the detectives from another unit stopped by and mentioned my federal case before wandering off.

When we were alone, in that easy, caring way that Leo has, he said, “We don’t need to talk about what went down over the past couple of days, unless you want to. But I do want to make sure you’re dealing with things okay.”

I interlaced my fingers around my coffee cup, feeling the warmth. “I’m doing okay. Of course, I’m crazy with worry about my sister, but I work with a good guy on the fed’s side of things. He’s helped me try and keep it in perspective.”

He smiled, exposing her perfect white teeth. “Good. Dr. Leo’s also here, if I can help in any way.”

We chatted about his interest in psychology for a few minutes before I mentioned what Brie had told me earlier. I then told him about our meeting with Lana Palmer. “She said there was a producer, Kellen Malone, who was also involved with Winslow at the time. He’s apparently not a very nice fellow.”

“The guy’s name sounds familiar but I can’t place where I heard it. I’ll ask around about him. Maybe if we have time later today, we can go by and try to talk to Donald Regis.”

We both turned as Selfie came through the door and said, “Molly and I think we might have something on Elton Marshall.”

Leo and I followed her to a workstation where our two civilian employees shared space. We took a seat across from them as Molly told us what they’d pieced together.

“Elton Marshall attended Long Beach State under the name Conrad Elton Yates. I ran record checks using every possible combination of family names. Yates began using his mother’s maiden name in his twenties and he’s now Dr. Conrad Yates.”

“As in a medical doctor?”

Selfie smiled as she answered. “He has a doctorate in mortuary science. I guess that would make him Dr. Death.”

I took a moment, moving the pieces of the puzzle around in my mind. “Let’s go back to the beginning with Bruce Reeder’s death and see if we can piece things together.”

Selfie began the summary. “Reeder was a documentary film maker at Bernstein Studios. We know he was gay and cheated on his wife with other men, including Jason Quail, before she divorced him. That relationship also ended because Quail said Reeder was cheating on him, possibly with someone from the studio.”

“A few weeks later Reeder ends up dead in his condo with no suspects,” Molly said. “We now know that the weapon used in his murder was taken from our R&I Division, probably by Galen Marshall. Approximately, one week ago that same weapon was used to murder Carla Hodge.”

I saw that Selfie had a mug shot of our dead suspect on her desk and I held it up. “Enter Galen Marshall.”

Selfie took a moment, going over Marshall’s work at Bernstein Studios as a contract photographer and then his involvement with the Galvan Funeral Home. She mentioned the extra-curricular activities with his subjects before he ended up dead in the establishment’s basement.