Hollywood Murder (26 page)

Allison held her daughter close. While Jenna didn’t speak, she sensed her despair over her brother being taken from them. “We’ve got to be brave, sweetheart. This will all be over soon.”

Frank and Sasha had been yelling at one another for hours. She hadn’t been able to make out exactly what they’d been saying, but knew something was about to happen again. If there was another ransom drop soon, she prayed that her father would cooperate this time.

As Jenna snuggled in her arms, Allison did her best to ignore the voices in the house above them. She tried to relax, her eyes closing as her mind drifted back in time. An image formed and she remembered turning seven years old. She had begged her mother to let her sister come to her party. “We had fun last year. Maybe Karen can spend the night again.”

“Last year was different,” her mother had said, her tone cold and brittle. “Things have changed since then. I won’t have that child in my house.”

“But...I don’t understand.”

“When you’re older, maybe your father will explain things to you. I don’t want to hear another word about this.”

True to her word, her mother hadn’t mentioned Karen’s name again. Years later, when she was a teenager, Allison remembered asking her father about the sister she hadn’t been able to see in more than a decade. “Karen sent me an email, asking if she could visit. I asked Mom, but she got really mad and said I could never say Karen’s name again around her.”

Her father had sighed and leveled his steely-blue eyes on her. “Karen’s not a part of this family any longer. She has her own life. The issue is not up for discussion.”

Allison knew from the emails they’d exchanged that Karen’s life involved her living in an apartment in Seattle with her mother. They barely had enough money for rent or food. Then one day she and Karen had connected, using Skype. That’s when Allison had learned the truth.

She hadn’t seen her sister since Karen was five, and when her pretty face appeared on the screen Allison remembered being shocked. Except for the fact that Karen had dark hair, they not only looked like sisters, they could be twins. It felt like her long lost sibling had finally come back into her life.

After chatting and exchanging information about their lives, Karen told her something that explained why she hadn’t been allowed to be part of her life. “My mother told me that your dad cheated on your mom with her and I was born. Your mom let me visit once when I was little. After that she told your dad she couldn’t accept what happened. Your dad and mom disowned me and wouldn’t even help my mom buy school clothes.”

Everything had fallen into place for Allison after that. She did some research and learned that Karen’s mother and her father had gone to school together in Chicago. They were going to be married, but her father had met her mother and called the wedding off.

She’d come to understand why her mother had never accepted Karen. She also knew it was wrong for her father not to help with her sister’s support. Allison remembered inviting Karen to a family gathering when they were older and both in college. It had been a surprise, and she hadn’t told her parents beforehand that Karen was coming.

Her mother had barely been civil to her sister, insisting that she leave immediately after dinner. Just like in the fairytale, Karen had been the stepsister who never got any of the privileges she had. It was the last time she’d seen Karen in person.

The past receded and Allison’s thoughts surfaced. She and Karen had lived very different lives. Despite that, she felt a connection to the sister she’d never really known. If she survived what was happening, she made a commitment that both her and Karen’s lives would be far better than the one’s they’d known.

Heavy footsteps were suddenly moving across the floor above them. Jenna held on
to her tighter as the door to the basement creaked opened. Allison said a silent prayer that she and her daughter wouldn’t be killed.

“Tonight, we celebrate for real,” Sasha said after coming over to Frank. She cupped her pouty lips around his ear and worked her magic.

The PI moaned and whispered, “Not now. Save it for later.” He broke away and went over to the kitchen counter, checking the equipment for what seemed like the tenth time.

He and Sasha had spent part of the night arguing about how the ransom drop would go down. His companion had wanted to send Henry Montreal around the city again, before ordering him to leave the money in a park. Sasha had said she wanted to be the one to pick up the ransom and would then call him.

While Sasha was an attractive woman, her beauty hadn’t struck him blind and stupid. There was no way he was going to trust the bitch with ten million dollars. This was his operation, and, in the end, he would make the decisions on how to handle the drop. While nothing was a sure thing, he was confident what he had in mind was the best option. When all was said and done, even if the cops were there watching, there would be nothing they could do to prevent him from taking what he deserved.

While moneybags was still a concern, Frank hoped that the bomb he’d planted on his grandson had gotten the message across. If the bastard tried to cross him again, he would make certain the billionaire and his family paid the ultimate price. This was the endgame, and if people had to die, he would leave a trail of bodies behind.

Satisfied that everything was in place, Frank took the duct tape and rope from his duffle bag and moved toward the basement door. “Time to rock and roll.”

Sasha followed him down the stairway to the basement where they found Allison and her daughter cowering in a corner.

“You don’t have to do this,” Allison pleaded. “We’ll do whatever you say.”

Dyer used the rope to tie her hands at the same time Jenna began sobbing. Sasha took the duct tape and walked over to the child. She pulled out a section of tape and placed it over Jenna’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Sasha said, moving closer to the child until she was inches from her face. “If you don’t, mommy will die.”

Thanks to the Mount Woods eruption, Leo and I were a half hour late meeting the feds on the street near the Montreals’ estate. We made our apologies to the agents, got some grunts and blank looks, and took our place at the back of the line.

Three hours later, with no call from the kidnappers, we were beginning to think the day had been wasted. Around noon, while we ate sandwiches Leo had brought, he mentioned our meeting with Woods. “How do you suppose she knew we met with the Pressleys yesterday?”

“A little birdie told her.”

He glanced at me. “A birdie with stars on his collar.”

“That would be my guess.”

His gaze drifted up the street, as something occurred to him. “Just happened to think about the knot used to tie the Potters. Did you ever follow-up with that Santa Maria PD detective that Woods talked to?”

“Yeah. They had something similar used in a kidnapping up there a couple of years back. The detective told Woods it might be similar to the knot used on the Potters, but the reporter blew what he’d said out of proportion. I think it’s a dead end.”

“So much for Woods’ junior detective badge.”

I nodded. “I guess our shark-baiting plan didn’t yield much.”

Leo shrugged. “I’ll make sure that word gets around she interfered with our case. She might have the attention of the brass, but I’ll make sure anyone working the streets doesn’t give her the time of day in the future.”

I told him I appreciated it and mentioned what Selfie and Molly had told us this morning, adding, “The Pressleys appear to have had both marital and financial problems.”

“Maybe the insurance angle will…”

Leo was interrupted by a radio call from Agent Dukes that was being broadcast to everyone involved in the operation. “Heads up. We have contact. Bulldog is heading for his car with the football. He’s been ordered to take surface streets before going south on the 101. Let’s stay in formation. We have eyes in the sky.”

“Here we go,” Leo said, starting the car and looking at the horizon. We couldn’t see the FBI’s helicopter but knew it was part of the team. Fortunately, we didn’t see any press helicopters, maybe because the feds had the good sense to operate on a closed communication channel.

By the time our very rich Bulldog got his Porsche on the street, and the two other teams of agents had pulled in behind him, Leo and I felt like we were the final float in a parade that had passed us by.

“I have a feeling this could all come to a head and we won’t be there to see it,” I said.

Leo sped up. “I don’t care what Dukes said, I’m going to keep our trail car in sight.”

Even though we’d closed some of the distance, as Dukes updated us, we still felt like we were hearing the play by play at a football game from the cheap seats. “Bulldog is entering the freeway now. Be aware, there’s heavy traffic.”

As it turned out, Dukes wasn’t kidding about the traffic. Leo and I lost sight of our trail car as we crept up the freeway, going past Universal City, where we’d followed Montreal previously. After a couple of minutes, the traffic slowed even further. We had no choice but to stay the course and hope that somehow we’d eventually close the distance.

A half hour passed, with Dukes still telling us Bulldog was heading south on the freeway. We were leaving the San Fernando Valley when we finally got word his course had changed. “He’s heading west on Kanan, toward the ocean. Stay in formation.”

“What formation?” Leo asked.

It took us another ten minutes to get off the freeway and begin heading west on Kanan Road. The winding highway cut through the hills and ended at Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu.

Leo passed several cars and finally had our trail car in sight by the time Dukes came back over the radio. “Bulldog is turning south on PCH. Traffic is moderate.”

“Maybe he’s going back to where he started,” I said, as Leo turned onto the highway behind the other cars. The highway eventually led back into the Los Angeles area, where it connected to several freeways and surface streets.

“Maybe, or maybe this is just for show. We’ll see.”

Ten minutes later, we knew it wasn’t for show as Dukes came back on the radio. “Bulldog has been ordered to stop at the Malibu Pier and take the football to the end. Team one will move up and follow on foot. Other teams are to hold their positions at the base of the pier. Be prepared to move out again on my notice.”

I’d been to the Malibu Pier a couple of times before. It was an in spot for fishermen, and had a small restaurant at the end. The beach surrounding the pier was popular with surfers and was usually crowded. Today was no exception. There were at least a hundred surfers around the pier.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” I said, as we slowed down and parked behind our trail car. From where we stopped, we had no visual on Montreal.

“Our best hope is the bird in the air if something goes down on the pier,” Leo said. “Maybe they’re planning to drop the ransom on a boat.”

What happened next came to us over our handheld radio as Dukes did play-by-play. “Bulldog is approaching the end of the pier…waiting on further contact…nothing, so far…”

“Maybe they know we’re watching,” Leo said when we didn’t hear Dukes again.

A couple of minutes later, the play-by-play resumed. “Bulldog is taking the stairway beneath the pier…there’s a dinghy where he’s been ordered to leave the package…let’s roll…”

That was our code phrase to move in. Leo and I were on the pier, heading toward the end, when we met up with the other agents. We were nearing the stairway beneath the pier when we heard Dukes say, “The drop has been made. Hostages are in the parking lot.”

We looked back toward the parking lot, but saw no sign of Allison Marsh or her daughter. A couple of the agents took off on foot to search the lot.
A
moment later we saw Bulldog huffing his way back up the stairway and rushing over to us.

“I left the money,” Montreal wheezed. “Where’s my daughter and her kid?”

“Not sure,” one of the primary agents said.

“You’re fucking
not sure?
” Montreal began moving back toward the stairway he’d just left. “I want my goddamn money.”

We followed behind, scrambling down the stairway behind Montreal. When we got to the lower landing, we saw there was a small docking station beneath the pier with a dinghy tied up, but there was no sign of the Bulldog’s package.

“Where the fuck did it go?” Montreal fumed. He turned to one of the agents. “You people fucked this up.”

We scanned the area, seeing no sign of other boats or anyone in the vicinity. The package appeared to have vanished into thin air. The other agents were cussing as Montreal went on meltdown.

Leo looked at me and said, “We’ve got a snarling Bulldog and it looks like we just fumbled the football.”

“We need to get some fucking divers in the water now,” one of the agents said after we’d given up on finding Henry Montreal’s money, the kidnappers, or the hostages. “Somebody also get the Coast Guard over here.”

Our best guess was that the kidnappers had been in scuba gear and had been able to get our package from the dinghy, put it in a weighted plastic bag, and were in the process of transporting it beneath the ocean, probably to one of the hundred or so boats that were offshore within sight of the pier.

While we waited for the operation to gear up, Leo and I searched the parking lot again, but found no sign of Allison or her daughter.

“No money and no hostages,” I said, dragging a hand through my hair. “This couldn’t have gone any worse.”

I’d no sooner said the words than a white van pulled into the parking lot. My hopes that it might be our hostages were immediately crushed when I saw that it was one of those press satellite vans. It was being followed by a small parade of other vans and cars. Overhead, I heard the all-too-familiar thump of rotor blades and knew the FBI chopper now had company.

“How do you suppose word leaked out to the press?” I said to Leo.

He regarded me with a thin smile, then cut his eyes to Shelia Woods, who had emerged from the press van.

“Forget I just said that.”

It took Woods and her camera crew less than five minutes to make their way over to us. “Can you tell us what’s going on here?” she said. “We understand a ransom drop was made on the Marsh case.”

“You’ll need to talk to the FBI,” Leo said. “They’re in charge.”

“Surely you can tell us something.” She turned to me, sticking her microphone in my face.

“I can tell you that you’re the world’s biggest idiot and I wish you’d jump off the end of the pier.” My fantasy life was getting the best of me again. “Sorry,” I said, “we’re not authorized to speak on this matter.”

Leo and I walked away as Woods said something to her viewers about a lack of cooperation.

“Maybe she’s right,” I said to my partner, picking up on Woods’ comments. “We’re worthless and of no help to anyone.”

Leo grinned. “You’re not doing anything for my self-esteem.”

We stopped a few yards away from Woods when we saw Henry Montreal going over to the gaggle of reporters. I couldn’t hear Woods’ question to him, but there was no mistaking the Bulldog’s answer.

“The FBI and police botched everything,” he fumed. “My money is gone and my family is probably dead, thanks to them. They’re a bunch of incompetent idiots.”

I sighed, glancing out to the boats that were bobbing peacefully offshore. I wondered if one of those boats had a cargo of ten million dollars and would slip away while we watched helplessly.