Hollywood Murder (25 page)

Laura Trenton’s voice took on an excited, girlish lilt. “Katie!” She took my hands. “Is it really you? We used to play together when I was about ten and you were little. Do you remember?”

Katie was what my love-dad had called me. I shook my head. “I was probably only three or four at the time.”

“We would play in the garden. I remember that you even brought dolls.” She’d said it like I should remember.

I took a couple of breaths, trying to control my emotions. “Let’s have our tea. I have a long story to tell you.”

We took our teacups to her patio where we spent the better part of the next hour. I spent the time going over my family history, telling her that the man she once knew as Johnny wasn’t my father, but had raised me until he was murdered by Ryan Cooper. I told her how Cooper had also murdered my biological mother and had been killed by my half-sister while stalking me. I went on to give her the details of my mother’s letters and what Collin Russell had told me, explaining that they both felt the deaths of her aunt and my love-dad were linked.

“John, the man who raised me, was a police officer back then, like me,” I said. “He worked part-time at the studios. I think that’s where he met your aunt.”

Trenton took a long moment to absorb everything I’d said. Bernie came over and she ran a hand through his fur. “It all seems like such a long time ago.” Her eyes brightened. “But we had great fun together as children. Your dad was very nice.”

Something Leo had once said about my love-dad being unhappy in his marriage came to mind. During my real, or imagined, conversation with my dad, he’d denied being unfaithful in his marriage to my mother. Despite that, I asked, “Do you think he and your aunt…could they have been involved?”

She chuckled. “Well, it’s hard to say. We
are
talking about Jean Winslow.” Her smile was still there, but more reflective now. “You probably know that she was involved with the producer Donald Regis before her death. He died recently.”

I confirmed that I was aware of what she’d said. “Your aunt’s death…” I hesitated, trying to choose my words carefully. “I guess you’ve heard the rumors over the years that it may have not been a suicide.”

She nodded. “I have no way of proving it, of course, but I also have my doubts. Aunt Jean…she wasn’t the type to get depressed. I just can’t believe she killed herself.”

I remembered what my friends had said about Winslow’s mother dying in a hit and run accident and her brother also taking his own life. I asked her about them.

“My Uncle Kevin was into drugs, so I think his death was more of an accident than anything that was deliberate. As for their mother…” She shrugged. “I can’t really say.”

“What about a man named Kellen Malone? Does his name ring a bell?”

Her smile returned. “You know a lot about my aunt.”

“She had a lot of history.”

“Mr. Malone came by right after Aunt Jean had broken up with Donald. I remember him being here a few days before…before she died. He was very kind and seemed like he wanted the best for her.”

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. “He was kind?”

“Very. It was summertime and he even went swimming with me once.”

My gaze moved off, watching the sunset as I tried to process what she’d said. I suddenly questioned everything I’d heard about Kellen Malone. My mother had told me in her letters that my love-dad had been murdered to cover up what he’d learned about Winslow’s death. Collin Russell had led me to believe his son might have been involved. Even my Mom’s one-time friend Lana Palmer had said that Malone was surrounded by people who scared her.

While I knew that children were sometimes not the best judge of character, Laura Trenton had known Malone, and what she’d said contradicted everything I’d heard. Now I wondered if I’d taken what I’d heard from the others out of context and made a false assumption that Malone had been involved in both Jean Winslow’s and my father’s deaths.

I took a moment and filled her in on what I knew about Malone, adding, “His father said he’s involved in a secret organization called The Revelation that controls much of what goes on in Hollywood.”

“The Revelation.” She released a breath, looking away from me. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name, but I also heard those same rumors.” Her beautiful eyes found me again. “All I know is that, unless he’s dramatically changed, Mr. Malone was a very nice man who seemed to only want the best for my aunt. He also didn’t seem like he would fit with what I’ve heard about the Revelation.”

Trenton’s phone was on her kitchen counter and she excused herself for a moment to answer it. While she was gone, I tried to piece together everything she’d told me. If Jean Winslow had been on the rebound from Regis, I had to admit that she and my love-dad might have become involved since he’d been at her estate. I didn’t want to believe that he was having an affair with Winslow while he was married to my adoptive mom, but I couldn’t rule it out, knowing that he’d been unhappy with my sometimes difficult and disapproving mother.

I wondered if he and Kellen Malone had run into one another at Chanteclair, and if they’d become enemies. If that had happened, it didn’t seem to fit with what Trenton had said about Malone. While I knew that Ryan Cooper had fired the bullet that killed my love-dad, I still didn’t know who else was behind that act. The possibilities swirled around in my head until I felt more confused than ever.

Trenton came back from the house and said, “That was your friend’s Realtor. They’ve been looking for you and thought I might have seen you. They’re finished touring the house and will meet you at the main gate.”

I stood up, got Bernie on his leash, and said, “It’s been wonderful talking to you.”

She came over and hugged me. “Same here. Let’s stay in touch.” Her eyes brightened. “I just thought of something.” She glanced into the house then back at me. “The photographs you saw are just a few of those my aunt had. I could go through some boxes, see if I can find other pictures of your dad, and then call you.”

I felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but I had a thought there could be something in those other photographs that would tell me for sure if the deaths of her aunt and my love-dad were linked. “Tell you what. Let’s get together in a couple of days. I’d love it if we could look through the boxes together and talk about old times. Who knows, maybe in the process we’ll solve a couple of thirty year old mysteries.”

***

“You mean that Trenton woman and your love-dad knew one another?” Mo said, regarding me with one eye. We were at a Denny’s on Sunset, having coffee and pie, after leaving Chanteclair.

I took a moment before answering, savoring a spoonful of strawberry pie. “My dad even brought me to the estate a couple of times. I was a few years younger than Laura, but she remembered us playing together as children.”

Natalie was wide-eyed, both from having toured the mansion and because of what I’d told them. After slurping her hot chocolate, she said, “That means you woulda met Jean Winslow.” She reached over and took my hand, telling Mo, “We’re in the presence of somebody who probably touched the biggest star in Hollywood history.”

Mo made a scoffing sound and sipped her coffee. She’d already wolfed down a big slice of chocolate pie. “Guess that makes her some kinda royalty.”

I smiled. “I’ll let you both kiss my ring later.”

Natalie went on, “What was Queen Jean like when you were a kid? Did you meet anybody else that was famous, like maybe that Clark Gable bloke or even Elvis?”

“Yes,” I said. “Clark and I played puppets, while I ate a lot of junk food with Elvis and we sang ‘Hound Dog’.” Bernie was at my side and looked up at me, probably thinking that I was full of something other than strawberry pie.

“Really?”

Mo shook her head and looked at Natalie. “Kate’s full of fertilizer, baby sis. I’m sure Clark was pushing up daisies when she was little. And old swivel hips was probably also gone by the time Kate was playin’ dolls with Winslow’s niece.”

I finished off my pie and confirmed what she’d said, telling Natalie, “I would have been a little girl at the time and don’t remember even being at the estate.”

“You mighta just been a kid, but I betcha that Trenton woman knows something more about her aunty’s murder.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. She admitted that she’s also had her doubts about her aunt’s death being a suicide, but had nothing to back that up.”

Mo leveled one eye on me and lowered her voice. “It might be that she’s afraid of The Revelation.”

“I asked her about the group and the possibility that Kellen Malone was involved. She said that she met Malone at Chanteclair before her aunt died. She described him as being nice.”

Mo’s eye bugged out. “Nice?”

I shrugged. “That’s what she said.”

“That doesn’t add up. We gotta go back and lean on her some more, get to the truth.”

“I’m planning to see her again in a few days. She said she had some more of her aunt’s old photos. There might even be more pictures of my dad.”

“We wanna go with you,” Natalie said. “Me and Mo got as much invested in this as you.”

“Really?”

She lowered her eyes. “Well, maybe not quite as much, but we all gotta stick together.”

I regarded them both. They were like sisters to me, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted them tagging along when I saw Laura Trenton again. “We’ll see.”

Mo changed the subject. “What’s the word on that place Noah said we might be able to rent? Bub came by today with the official notice that our rent is doubling.”

“I’ll talk to Noah tonight and let you know what he’s worked out.”

“I hope we get the place,” Natalie said, looking at Mo. “Some of us aren’t gettin’ any younger and we might just fit in there.”

The next morning, Bernie and I met Leo at the station. We were preparing to leave to meet the feds down the block from the Montreals’ estate, hoping the kidnappers would call again as promised, when all hell broke loose.

“That reporter you’ve been working with is out here,” Jake Carson said. The uniformed officer was on light duty, manning the front desk. Carson lowered his voice. “She’s demanding to see you and Kingsley, and she’s not happy.”

I told Carson I’d call him back, then filled Leo in. “We’d better go see if the wizard can also meet with her.”

Ten minutes later, after filling in Lieutenant Oz on what was happening, I had Carson escort Shelia Woods to his office. The reporter was without her camera crew, but was breathing fire as she took a seat with us.

Woods looked at me. “I demand to know why I’ve been cut out of this investigation.”

I let Oz handle things. He said, “Can you explain what you mean?”

“I went by and did a couple of follow-up questions with Millie Randolph last night.” Woods’ gaze swung back to me and Leo. “Samantha Potter’s aunt told me that you questioned her about the Pressleys.”

I glanced at Oz, back at her, and tried to smooth things over. “It was just some routine follow-up questions.”

“Really.” Woods looked back at the lieutenant. “I suppose that’s why your detectives made a special trip to Glendale, questioned the Pressleys, and cut me out of everything.”

Oz straightened his bowtie and tried to do damage control. “I was waiting for a callback from my superiors for permission to inform you of what was happening.”

“Not good enough,” Woods bellowed. “I was granted full access. Your officers intentionally excluded me.”

Oz continued to try and smooth things over as the reporter melted down. Fifteen minutes later, he’d made promises about calling the captain and making sure she was included in the latest developments of our investigation.

When Woods finally calmed down, she demanded to know what we’d learned about the reverend and his wife. Oz nodded his consent for us to answer.

Leo took over, explaining, “The Potters were attending Reverend Stan’s church before their deaths. From what we know, they’d made a commitment to make a contribution to their new church. When that didn’t happen, Meagan Pressley said she went by and discussed the matter with Maggie Potter. Samantha overheard that discussion and called it an argument.”

Woods took a moment, making notes on her pad. She huffed out a breath and looked back at Leo. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Leo glanced at Oz before going on. “We know that Walter Potter and Meagan Pressley were on the same charity board for needy children. It’s just speculation at this point, but there might have been something more to their relationship.”

Woods’ face lit up and her voice pitched higher. “You mean to tell me that the wife of the man who is building the Stairway to Heaven was having an affair with Walter Potter?”

“We don’t know that, at this point. We’re still investigating.”

The reporter scribbled more notes on her pad. “This is huge.”

“This is confidential,” Oz said. “We’re still trying to piece things together. Nothing can be released to the public until we know more.”

“What’s next? What is your next move?”

“We’re having our crime analyst and secretary compile information on Meagan Pressley and her fundraising efforts. When we know something more, as it ties to the Potters, with the captain’s permission, we’ll include you.”

Shelia Woods kept her eyes fixed on Oz. “I’ll wait while you call your captain.”

Fifteen minutes later, with Captain Dembowski’s permission, we called Selfie and Molly into Oz’s office. We explained about Woods being granted access and asked for any updates.

Selfie, who this morning sported a row of diamond studs above her left brow, began by saying, “Yesterday, we made several inquiries, talking to people who know the Pressleys. While there’s nothing definitive, a couple of them said they thought they were having problems. They described Meagan as someone who liked to party and Stan as being the more serious type.”

“Someone who liked to party with other men?” Woods asked.

Selfie raised the brow with her piercings. “That was the impression we got, but…I couldn’t say for sure.”

“There’s also a financial issue,” Molly told us. “The Stairway to Heaven is costing millions, and it looks like the Pressleys have fallen behind on payments to several of their sub-contractors. There’s even some talk that that whole project could be mothballed unless a major contribution is found.”

Woods scribbled notes, looked at Leo and me. “The Potters didn’t have a lot of money. Whatever they’d pledged for the new church would hardly have made a difference. There had to be another reason why Meagan Pressley went by to see Maggie Potter and got into an argument with her.”

“So it would seem,” Leo said. He looked at our civilian employees. “Let’s stay on this, let us know what you find.”

I had another thought. “Since Walter Potter owned an insurance business, let’s also look at any life insurance policies that might have been written on his wife in recent months. We know that she had a terminal illness.”

“Are you suggesting that Walter might have taken out a policy on his wife and had her murdered?” Woods asked.

“I can’t say, but, if that was the case, whoever killed Maggie also killed her likely beneficiary.” I checked my phone and realized we were running late to meet the feds. I nodded to Leo and we both stood up. “Sorry, but we’ve got an appointment we’re late for.”

The reporter smiled. “Would this have anything to do with the Marsh case?”

“No comment.”

On the way to our car, Leo said, “Maybe we should have just brought Woods with us. She knows everything that goes on anyway.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Thanks, but she’s already given me one headache for the day. I don’t need another one.”