#3 Hollywood Crazy: A Holllywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 16

  “I must be crazy, but I’ll go with you,” I said.

  “You’re the mutt’s nuts,” Natalie said. She then looked at Bernie. “Sorry, daddy laddy, but you seem a little on the down low since ya knocked up Thelma.”

  “When’s the little lady due?” Mo asked.

  “It should be any time now. I’m supposed to see Mack in a day or so. I’ll let you know.”

  Natalie was congratulating me about moving on from Jack as my phone rang. I heard a baritone voice when I answered.

  “This is Marvin Chauncey. I’m sorry to call so late, but I just saw the news about Harmon Sanders. I’d like to meet with you and clear the air about my relationship with Discrete and Mr. Sanders. Can we meet in the morning?”

  “Eight o’clock at Hollywood Station would be fine,” I said.

  Chauncey agreed to the meeting and I ended the call, thinking how the murder of a cockroach can sometimes bring out an even bigger insect.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Lieutenant Edna was in a foul mood when Bernie and I got to the station the next morning. His angry words to Haley Tristan had gone out to all the networks, only further emphasizing his new moniker.

  “You’ve got half an hour with Chauncey then we need to talk,” Edna said. “The brass is wanting to move on since Sanders is good for the murders.”

  I started to argue with Edna, but saw Pearl standing behind the lieutenant, shaking his head. As we headed down the hallway, Pearl said, “Not a good time to ruffle the lieutenant’s feathers.” He smiled and in a whisper, added, “Henrietta’s on the warpath.”

  Jessica was running late, so Pearl and I went ahead with Chauncey’s interview, while Bernie settled in a corner of the interview room. After engaging in a moment of small talk, we got down to business with the Armani-clad former pimp and asked him what he wanted to say about the escort business and Harmon Sanders.

  “I want to completely clear the air,” Chauncey began. “I don’t want anything coming back on me or anyone saying I withheld information.”

  “We’re listening,” I said.

  “There was a period of time, about three or four years ago, when I worked directly for Marla West. I had several friends and acquaintances in the entertainment business and the sports world. Ms. West felt that we could work together servicing some of these clients, if you get my drift.”

  “You set up dates?”

  “Not exactly. West wanted names. I provided them to her only after I’d talked with the potential client and made sure they were interested. In return, I received a financial incentive for each client I referred.” Chauncey paused, patting his cornrows. “One of those clients was Harmon Sanders.”

  “How did you meet Sanders?” Pearl asked.

  “He helped with some permits. A client of mine had been negotiating with the city for a lengthy period of time and was having trouble establishing his business.”

  “What kind of business?”

  “It was a gentlemen’s club, near the airport.”

  “So, in return for prostitutes, Sanders greased the wheels at city hall for the titty bar,” I said.

  Chauncey shrugged. “To put it crudely, yes, I suppose.”

  “And the mayor? Was he involved?”

  “No. It was strictly an arrangement between myself, my client, and Mr. Sanders.”

  This was all interesting and not surprising, but I wasn’t sure Chauncey’s information would help us with our case. “What about other clients?” I asked. “Who were some of the others that you referred to West?”

  Chauncey reached inside his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. “I knew you were going to ask, so in the interests of full disclosure, I made a list.”

  Pearl and I studied the list for a moment. There were more than twenty clients. I recognized a couple of the names as prominent businessmen, but one name stood out. “Raymond Halstead?”

  Chauncey nodded. “Ray was a friend from our college days. We stayed in touch over the years and I learned that he was going through a difficult period.” Chauncey smiled. “I helped cheer him up.”

  “You’re quite the friend.” I pushed the list over to Pearl. “Tell me something, where does China Warner fit in all this? We know that you set her up with Malik Brown and he ended up blackmailing her. Who else did you hook up with China?”

  “As I mentioned, for the most part, I referred the clients directly to Marla West. There were a few exceptions. Since China and I had a past relationship, she agreed to a few dates with both Malik Brown and Harmon Sanders.”

  “To pay off your debts.”

  “You already know about Mr. Brown. As for Sanders, it was a way to ensure that I had a certain amount of leverage with city hall, if needed.”

  “And what about Halstead?”

  “Ray was also one of the exceptions. He’d seen me with China before and was very attracted to her. I proposed the arrangements and China agreed to a couple of dates with him. But Ray also went directly to West for some other girls.”

  After finishing up with Chauncey, we met in a conference room with Lieutenant Edna and Jessica, who had finally gotten to work.

  “The most prominent name on Chauncey’s list is Ray Halstead,” I said.

  “You mean that holier-than-thou basketball guy?” Edna asked.

  “Famous, not only for his winning streak, but for his high moral values and ethical standards.” Pearl said.

  Edna popped a stick of gum in his mouth. “Fucking hypocrite.”

  “Pearl and I would like to talk to him today,” I said. “Since he dated China and apparently also went through West for some girls, maybe he knows something.”

  Edna shook his head. “Here’s the deal. The brass is wanting to close our case behind Sanders’s death. We’ve got the murder weapon and it’s tied to Sanders. We know from what Chauncey said that he dated China, so the motive is jealousy. Marla West’s death will be deemed a hit and run and Malik Brown becomes a victim of gang and drug violence. It stinks like shit, but I think it’s going to mean the end of the case.”

  My stomach knotted, my anger surfacing. “You’re right about the stink, Lieutenant, but it smells like something else to me. It smells like a cover-up.”

  “Be careful what you’re insinuating.”

  “Sanders may have been involved in the killings, but the bad smell is also coming from Newport Beach where a certain mobster has a yacht and it blows all the way to city hall. We’ve got to...”

  Edna stopped me. “Okay, enough. Here’s what I can do. You go lean on Raymond Halstead this morning and see what he gives up. I’ve got a meeting with the captain and the brass this afternoon. Unless you find someone with the vic’s blood on his hands, my guess is this case is going away.”

  ***

  That afternoon, Pearl and I drove with Bernie to Malibu to talk to Ray Halstead. We left Jessica at the station to catch up on paperwork.

  It was a welcome respite, not having my new partner second-guessing my every move. I knew she was still steamed over being cut out of the information about my father’s former investigation of Discrete, but Edna said he didn’t think her complaint had any merit. So far, we had nothing concrete that tied Discrete or Marcello to my dad’s murder, anyway.

  As we reached Pacific Coast Highway, Pearl said, “I got a bad feeling that the way things are going we may never know the truth behind who murdered our bride and groom.”

  “That includes what happened to my father.” My gaze drifted to the fogbank hanging like a misty curtain over the ocean. “I tried to get the murder files on my dad the other day. I was told that since the case involved the death of a cop, it’s still officially considered active.” I looked over at Pearl. “It’s with John Duncan in the cold case unit. Do you think you could talk to him, see if we can borrow it for a day or two?”

  “Officially, no,” Pearl said. “But unofficially, John and I go way back. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Pearl. Anybody ever tell you that y
ou’re the best?”

  “Until now, just two women. My mama and my wife, God rest their souls.”

  Malibu College sat on a hill above the Pacific Ocean. It was a small private school established in the early 1900s by Franciscan friars. It was dedicated to three things: religious values, a quality education, and basketball.

  The expensive liberal arts college was considered to have one of the country’s premiere sports programs. Thanks to basketball and the legendary, Ray Halstead, who had more wins than any other active coach, the school was nationally renowned.

  We found Halstead in the gymnasium and waited until an assistant took over the team’s scrimmage. He escorted us to a small office with a window that looked out on the basketball court. Bernie watched the scrimmage for a moment before I had him settle at my feet.

  “I hope you’re not here about one of my players,” Halstead said, smiling and revealing a row of crooked, yellow teeth. “Seems like kids nowadays can find all kinds of trouble to get into.”

  Halstead looked to be in his late fifties, with sparse silver hair and a dark tan. As Pearl began with the questions, I noticed the coach’s eyes seem to wander over to my breasts from time to time. I’m not especially big in that department, so it only confirmed what Chauncey had told us about Halstead’s extracurricular interests.

  “We’re actually here about you, Mr. Halstead,” Pearl said. “It’s come to our attention that you’re acquainted with a man named Marvin Chauncey.”

  “Chauncey?” The basketball coach scratched his head. His expression was blank. “The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “He’s a sports and entertainment agent in Hollywood.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t place him.”

  “Maybe the name China Warner will be easier for you to remember,” I said.

  We still got the stony face and a shake of the head. But I saw sweat popping at the coach’s receding hairline.

  “I’ll make this perfectly clear, Mr. Halstead,” I said. “We know about the dates that Chauncey arranged for you with China Warner.”

  Halstead stood up. “I have a certain reputation to maintain. I won’t have someone showing up out of the blue and disparaging my character. If you have any other questions, you can talk to my attorney.”

  Pearl remained seated, glanced over at me, then back at Halstead. “We can do that, but in the meantime if I were you, I’d start working on my defense.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The press. As you know, they’re all over the wedding murders. Your name would only add a certain sensational aspect to the case. Of course, we can try to keep you out of the news if you want to cooperate. Your choice.”

  Halstead sat down, mopped his brow. “Are you trying to threaten me?”

  “We’re not trying to do anything,” Pearl said. “Just stating facts.” His eyes fixed on the basketball coach. “Unfortunately, facts are sometimes leaked to the press.”

  Halstead took a moment before speaking, no doubt considering how he could maintain his high moral standards. “Okay, but I want to be absolutely certain this is just between us.”

  “We’ll do our best, Mr. Halstead,” Pearl said. “That’s as much as we can promise. The alternative is you deal with a reporter named, Haley Tristan. She’s very persistent, especially when there’s an important person like yourself involved.”

  Halstead sighed, wiped his brow. “I was going through a rough patch in my marriage. Chauncey arranged a couple of dates for me with Ms. Warner. It was nothing more than that.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.

  “It’s been a few years. She thought I could help with her career. When I said I couldn’t, she refused to see me again.”

  “What about the others?” I asked.

  “There weren’t any...”

  “Stop with the lies. We know you went through Discrete and a woman named Marla West for other girls—lots of girls.”

  The coach’s gaze fell to the floor and he exhaled. “Okay, there were some others. It’s not something I’m proud of. But West had nothing to do with it.”

  “But you did go through her agency—through Discrete?”

  Halstead shook his head, his gaze coming back up to us. “The girls were a private arrangement; women who I was told wouldn’t talk.”

  “Who made the arrangements?”

  The basketball coach found a towel on a shelf next to his desk and mopped his brow. “When China said that she wouldn’t see me again, she told me about girls who were called ‘exclusives.’ She said something about West not being trustworthy and, of course, I was concerned about complete confidentiality, so I used the service she recommended.”

  I glanced at Pearl, back to Halstead. “Who was your contact?

  “A woman named, Mags Warner. She’s China’s sister.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “I don’t care if Halstead said the first lady set him up with prostitutes,” Lieutenant Edna said. “The case is closed. We’re moving on.”

  We were back in the station’s conference room where Jessica had joined Pearl and me as we listened to what I’d termed a “Henrietta rant.”

  “We’ve got a dead victim who was a prostitute and her sister was apparently running things behind the scenes and keeping that from us,” I said. “Not to mention two other victims and a mob boss that’s somewhere in the mix. What Halstead told us should be enough to at least give us another crack at the case. What about one more day?”

  “Andrews is not giving us another day, another hour, or another minute. The captain and the rest of the brass made that clear. And, the press is all over the mayor. He might even end up resigning.”

  “Wow, what would we do without a mayor whose chief of staff was screwing prostitutes as a payback for providing special treatment at city hall?”

  Edna held up a finger. “Enough.”

  “You need to let this go, move on,” Jessica said to me.

  I turned on the serpent. “Why don’t you coil up in the corner and rattle.”

  Edna brought our attention back to him by dropping a file on the table. “Your new case, Ralph Wakefield. Homeless guy found stabbed to death on the sidewalk over on Lexington.” The lieutenant made a motion with his thumb like an umpire calling a third strike on a batter. “Go solve it.”

  We didn’t solve the homeless killing that afternoon. We did review the file and made plans to canvas the area where the body had been found in the morning. I was still fuming over the brass’s decision that evening, as Bernie and I drove to my brother’s hair salon.

  “Maybe they put idiot pills in the water at the Police Administration Building,” I said to my four-legged partner as Olive lurched and belched to a stop on Melrose. I turned off the ignition, thought about having to pay for more car repairs, and said, “Maybe we should rob a bank tomorrow.”

  Bernie gave me a tail-wag, maybe agreeing it was our best option.

  After entering the salon, Bernie settled in a corner while Robin went to work on my hair like an emergency room doctor.

  “I think part of your problem is the last product we used contained formaldehyde,” Robin said.

  “You mean you embalmed my hair?”

  “It could explain why you smell like a dead frog in a high school biology class.”

  “Thanks for that.” Robin was working on his sense of humor after his new boyfriend told him he was lacking in that department—apparently at my expense. “How is Joshua?”

  “We’re still planning to go on tour with Karma in April. It should be a little crazy, but fun.”

  Karma was a superstar singer who’d nearly lost her life at the hands of her deranged sister. Robin had managed to meet the celebrity while I worked on the case. He’d been hired as a stylist for her upcoming world tour. His new boyfriend also worked for the performer.

  “And you and Jack?” Robin said. “Are you two kids still crazy about each other?”

  “We’re on
hold for a while.”

  “What happened?”

  I explained about Jack’s ex, her recent diagnosis.

  “Wow, that’s a tough one.”

  “I’m taking some time to sort through my feelings.”

  “I heard about your case—the wedding murders and the mayor’s aide committing suicide,” Robin said, changing the subject.

  I filled him in on some of the details, before telling him about our father having investigated Discrete when he was murdered.

  “I have no memories of Dad, since I was in diapers when he was killed,” Robin said. “Do you really think the mob could have been involved?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know one thing—I’m not going to rest until I learn the truth.”

  We were quiet for a moment after he finished the treatment and used the blow dryer. Robin had purposely kept me turned away from the mirror so that I would be surprised by the results.

  Before he turned me around to face the mirror, he sat in front of me for a moment. His expression was serious.

  “Remember when I came out and told Mom I was gay a few years back?” I nodded. “She’d been drinking at the time, but took the news pretty well. It was very emotional for both of us.”

  I touched his hand. “I’m sure it was.”

  “Mom and I talked for a while after I told her. I said something to her about wondering what Dad would have thought about having a gay son.”

  “What did she say?”

  “It was the strangest thing. Mom said, ‘I don’t know how he would have reacted. Your father wasn’t the man most people thought he was.’ I asked her what she meant, but all she would say is that Dad had another life, that he wasn’t much of a family man.”

  “Really? Mom never said anything like that to me, even when we talked about him the other day.”

  Robin shrugged. “Maybe she just meant that he was preoccupied with being a cop and wasn’t home much.” He smiled at me. “I know the job can sometimes take over your life.”