Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Read online

  “As we know, once Azazel created the game, he took it over and controlled it. Until now, all contacts he’s had with the Predators have occurred via virtual private networks or on public computers so that the individuals involved can’t be traced. He’s carefully covered his tracks.”

  “What about Karma?” I asked. “We think that she’s the ultimate target. Do we know any details regarding what the Predators or Azazel have decided about her fate?”

  Lundy stood and took over for Dressler. I had the sense that he relished telling us what they’d learned. “We don’t know exactly how the end will come, but we do know from what Wilkerson told us that Karma is scheduled to die tomorrow. The game is now being called, Destination 10-31. The 10-31 stands for October 31st, Halloween.”

  The cult expert clicked on another screen. A graveyard appeared and the camera zoomed in. We saw an image of Karma photo-shopped into the scene. The superstar’s body was on the ground, near a headstone that bore her name and date of death, October 31st. Karma’s head was severed from her body.

  One of the administrative assistants entered the room, breaking the tension of the images we’d seen. She whispered something to Skully and left.

  “We’ve been advised there’s something breaking on TV about this case that we might want to watch,” Skully said. He turned to Dressler and Lundy. “Is there a way you can access the local stations?”

  Lundy took over. In a moment, he had the television show, Hollywood Confidential, on the overhead screen. We saw reporter Haley Tristan, with her ever-present aide, Cher, reporting from outside the gates of Karma’s estate as the volume came up. I silently prayed that Skully wouldn’t think whatever she had to say came from me.

  “We have footage of the announcement made about an hour ago,” Tristan announced. “According to those close to Karma, she’s anxious to put the nightmare of the past several days behind her.”

  Video of Karma and Vee came on the screen. The superstar wore a flowing green gown as she read from a prepared statement.

  “As you all know, the events of the last several days have been both tragic and traumatic,” Karma said. “But the time for mourning is over. Tomorrow, I’m having a party at my estate to celebrate my upcoming world tour. It will be a party like none before. It will be a celebration of life.”

  As Lundy killed the video feed, Charlie turned to me and said, “It looks like Karma just invited everyone to her own funeral.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  “You look stunning,” the sales clerk says. “Like someone out of Modern Bride Magazine.”

  Myra studies herself in the mirror. The wedding dress is a classic design, with a French bustle, plunging V-neckline, and a satin ribbon detail at the waist. A high-sheen silk train sweeps the floor, completing the ensemble.

  “I think it’s perfect,” Myra agrees, looking back at the salesclerk. “I’ll take it.”

  “Wonderful,” the clerk says. “When’s the big day?”

  “I’m getting married tomorrow. It’s a very special day.”

  “Wow. Congratulations. I guess it’s a good thing we had the dress in stock.”

  A few minutes later, Myra has the dress in her car and is driving through Hollywood. As she passes by a church, the same church where Chloe Bryant had slipped away from her, she decides to stop.

  Myra parks on the street and finds her way up the worn tile steps to the cathedral. Once inside, she takes a moment to survey the sanctuary. Just like before, there’s a scattering of parishioners, the muted sound of whispered prayers. Again, she takes in the scent of incense and the musty odor of the ancient church.

  Her gaze sweeps over the nave, up to the altar. She imagines herself standing there, the beautiful bride in her wedding gown with her beloved next to her. A tear slips down her cheek. She hears a voice and turns.

  “Can I help you?” the priest says, apparently noticing that she’s crying.

  Myra looks at the elderly man. She surprises herself by saying, “I have come to confess, Father.”

  She follows him to the confessional, taking her place on the opposite side of a small booth where the sacrament of confession is held. The priest hangs a crucifix over the lattice as Myra says, “Bless me Father, for I have sinned.”

  “How long has it been since your last confession?”

  “It has been many years and I have much to confess.”

  “What are your sins, my child?”

  “They are mortal.”

  The priest hesitates, takes a breath. “God may forgive you. Please continue.”

  “After I was born, my mother left home. She abandoned me. A few years later, my father did the same thing. I was placed into a series of foster homes. There was a man—my foster father, who abused me. He sold me to another man who attacked and strangled me to death.”

  “To death?” The priest pauses, maybe trying to come to terms with what he’s hearing. “But…you are here.”

  “Yes, I died, but was resurrected.”

  “Oh my, that’s a very big word…I don’t…”

  “When I died, I met someone who told me that I must return to the world of the living.”

  “Do you speak of God?”

  “I was told that I must return and seek revenge on all those who harmed me, including my father.” The booth is quiet. Myra hears heavy breathing. “Are you there, Father?”

  The priest begins again, falters, but finally says, “God would…” There’s another hesitation. Myra realizes he’s searching for the words to express his shock. “Revenge is not something that God would expect.”

  “I do not speak of God, Father. I did what was commanded of me.”

  “If not God, then who…”

  Myra senses the priest’s sudden realization. “Yes, Father. The one who commanded me to kill was my savior, a disciple of the fallen one.”

  Myra again hears the priest drawing in a heavy breath. “Are you telling me that you harmed your foster father?”

  “I killed them both.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My foster father died first. Then my biological father died for abandoning me.” There’s no response. Myra continues, “A woman, my father’s girlfriend, was convicted of the crime. She paid the price for his murder.”

  There’s a lengthy silence. The priest finally says, “Are you telling me that you had this woman take the punishment for your crime?”

  “Yes. She and my father both got what they deserved.” There is a longer silence now. Myra senses something has changed. “Are you there, Father?”

  “Yes, but I must tell you there are certain things that cannot be ignored.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some things are between you and God, but in this case, the authorities must know. An innocent woman is in prison for what you have done.”

  Myra sighs. “I see, Father. You have forsaken me.”

  “No, my child…I’m just…unable to remain silent.”

  Myra begins to weep, opens the door, and walks away. She stops and comes back to the priest, confronting him as he leaves the confessional. “There are some sins that cannot be forgiven, Father. There are some things so terrible that the only answer is death.”

  As Myra leaves the church, she sees that night is beginning to fall. She loves the darkness, the secrets that are hidden here. Like the secrets that she didn’t confess to the priest.

  Myra remembers finally locating her biological mother after the other killings. In a moment of weakness she told her what she’d done. It had been a mistake. Her mother said she planned to tell the authorities what happened. She knew then that the bitch also had to die. Her sentence for killing her mother was eight years in the state mental hospital before she was found sane and released. It was a small price to pay for the revenge she deserved.

  As she walks to her car, Myra thinks about the stunned reaction of the priest who has just heard her confession. She has no worries about her confession. She’s an anon
ymous parishioner. Even if he goes to the authorities, the priest has no way of identifying her or connecting her to the past crimes.

  As she leaves the church and is swallowed up into the darkness, Myra knows that tomorrow she will be reunited with the one who gave her life.

  She will marry Azazel.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Our taskforce meeting ended late in the day. I tried to slip quietly away when Skully stopped me and pulled me into his office.

  I was already on the defensive about Haley Tristan’s announcement regarding Karma’s party. I’d intended to head to the estate with Charlie to try talking the singer out of her party. Instead, I told my partner to go ahead without me.

  “Do you want to explain the refusal of your assigned police protection this afternoon?” Skully began. He looked over the top of his reading glasses, like an elderly professor lecturing a student.

  “There was no refusal. I just had a late lunch hour and some personal issues to attend to.”

  “You were not here for the interview of Earl Conner with your partner. How do you explain that?”

  I exhaled. No matter how I responded I knew it wouldn’t appease the bully sitting across the desk from me. “Charlie has almost thirty years on the force. He’s capable of interviewing a subject without my presence.”

  “That does not excuse your absence.”

  “I’m entitled to a lunch break and I certainly don’t need a twenty-four hour babysitter.” I felt my blood pressure rising. “What you call protection is surveillance and we both know it.”

  Skully removed his glasses and crossed his arms. “This is the second act of insubordination in less than a week. I simply won’t stand for it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The leaks to the press have been tied directly to you.”

  This was unbelievable. Where was he getting this stuff? “I’ve said it over and over, I have not talked to the press.”

  Skully smiled in the way that a poker player has when he’s holding back a pair of aces. “That’s not what Cher Wentworth says.”

  “Who? I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “The reporter, Haley Tristan—her aide has advised one of our detectives that you’ve been talking to her boss.”

  “What? Who did she tell that to?”

  “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at this time.”

  “Why not? If I’m being accused of something, I have a right to confront my accuser.”

  “That’s all I can say for now. The matter is under review with administration.”

  I shook my head, looked away from him. Under review by administration, was a code phrase that meant my conduct was being investigated by IAD, the department’s Internal Affairs Division. I had nearly lost my job after a go around with the detectives assigned to that division a few weeks ago and knew they still had it in for me. I felt defeated just thinking about dealing with them again.

  The reality of what was happening came home to me as Skully went on, “You are being removed from the taskforce, effective immediately. I’m also terminating your assigned protection since you apparently don’t want it anyway. I’m giving you a few days off until a decision can be made about a reassignment.”

  “What are you saying? What kind of reassignment?”

  Skully had an idiotic grin on his face. “There are openings in traffic enforcement and some administrative duties that are being considered.”

  I stood up, feeling my heart beating against my chest with each word I spoke. “This has nothing to do with my protection. It has nothing to do with leaks to the press. It’s has everything to do with sexual discrimination and a personal vendetta by you to remove me from RHD.” I leaned forward, my eyes drilling into the elderly captain. “Just so you know I won’t stand for this.”

  “Watch what you’re alleging, Detective. I wouldn’t want to have to reassign your partner, as well.”

  “Charlie is not a part…” I suddenly understood what he meant. He wasn’t talking about Charlie. He was talking about Bernie. I looked at my big dog who tugged on his leash, no doubt dreaming about biting a little dick off a big prick.

  I looked back at Skully. “I will not be intimidated and I will not be another casualty in your attempt to plaster over the glass ceiling. I intend to blast both it and you into outer space if that’s what it takes.” I started to walk out, but stopped and turned back to him. “That’s a promise, Elmer.”

  I was in the parking lot, taking deep breaths, trying to control my anger when my phone rang. “Kate, it’s, Jack. I thought I’d better check in with you.”

  I took a moment to gather myself and catch my breath. I realized that I hadn’t thought about him all afternoon and felt guilty. “Jack, how are you feeling? I was going to come by the hospital this afternoon but got busy.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said how are you feeling?”

  “Can’t hear a word you’re saying.” He paused and laughed. “Just kidding. Except for a little ringing in my ears, I’m good as new.”

  I brushed the hair out of my eyes, a little irritated by his attempt at humor. “I’ll come by the hospital in a few minutes.”

  “Actually, I’ve already been released. I’m on my way to the airport. I was just home for the night when the fireworks happened. I’ve got another couple of meetings in D.C. tomorrow.”

  I felt like he was slipping away from me again. A sense of resignation came over me. “I’m sorry things went like they did.”

  It was a moment before he came back on the line. “Not as sorry as I am. Where are you staying?”

  “I guess with my mom, for now. I haven’t really had a chance to think things through.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll try to get back from DC in a few days. Maybe we can talk about things then.”

  I was unsure what he meant. Did he mean that we could live together? I knew I wasn’t ready for that. For some reason, my thoughts drifted to Mack.

  “You there, Kate?”

  “Yes, sorry. Okay, call me when you’re back in town.”

  I ended the call and helped Bernie into Olive’s backseat. I took a moment and watched as the sun set, the last rays of daylight reflecting off the windows of the downtown skyline. The colors shifted and then blurred, lost in the flood of tears bursting from my eyes.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  I stopped at the store and bought a bottle of wine and a bag of Fugs, a cheesy carbohydrate bomb that I’m mildly addicted to. It’s my menu of choice when I succumb to pity party tendencies. I headed for my mother’s house to drown my sorrows when I thought about Voodoo Mama.

  I turned to Bernie and said, “I promised Natalie that I’d stop by the store. We’re only a couple of minutes away.”

  Bernie cocked his head in the way dogs have that makes you think they understand every word you’re saying.

  I went on, “Even though I’m no longer on the taskforce, it doesn’t mean that I can just walk away from a case that I know will come to a head in the next twenty-four hours. Besides, the goth shop is a business my friends work at. And no one, including Skully, IAD, or a vampire, is going to keep me from seeing my friends.”

  Bernie licked his chops, which I took to mean, “I completely agree with your logic, Kate.”

  Inside the store, we found Natalie working behind the counter, while Mo helped a customer. My friend wore a short black dress that had a blood splatter print. Calf high stiletto heels and hair tied up in a knot gave Natalie, or Lolita as she liked to be called while working at Voodoo Mama, the appearance that she’d just escaped from a serial killer on a psycho ward.

  Natalie motioned to Mo. “That one’s got another admirer.”

  I turned and saw Mo helping an elderly man pick out some jewelry. She had on a red ribbon miniskirt with a matching top, the outfit consisting of a lot more skin than material. I think maybe it was the gobstoppers, as Natalie sometimes called Mo’s giant breasts, that pushed
the guy over the edge.

  “You got your pockets cut out, don’t you?” Mo said, wagging a finger at the elderly customer.

  The man’s cheeks turned the color of a pair of Valentine’s Day panties. “I was…no…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re playing spank the pocket weasel while I’m trying to sell you a vampire ring,” Mo said, raising her voice. “Let me see them pockets. Turn ‘em inside out.”

  “No. This is an outrage.”

  Mo placed her hands on her wide hips. “Honey, you don’t know what outrage is ‘til you seen me mad.”

  Tears welled up in the customer’s eyes. “You don’t understand. Some people think having a painful four-hour erection is funny. But it’s a serious medical condition.”

  Mo looked at Natalie and then me. My shoulders went up.

  “You got a doctor’s note, Mr. Stiffy?” Mo asked, turning back to the customer.

  “No, but my condition is called priapism.” The man looked down at the bulge in his pants. “I’m also rather large in that area. Can I help it if I’m hung like a stallion?”

  Mo seemed to finally lose patience. “Well Chestnut, since you don’t gotta doctor’s note, fraid you’re going to jail.” She motioned to me. “See that lady over there? She’s a cop. I’m gonna have her haul your hard ass in for public wiener manipulation. It’s section 314 of the penal code, in case you wanna look it up later.”

  The man made a sudden move, slipped out of Mo’s grasp, and was out the door.

  “Why didn’t you cuff him?” Mo said, turning to me.

  “I’ve got bigger wieners to fry.” I laughed as we went over to the store’s front door. Mo’s elderly stallion bolted across the street, nearly getting hit by a car.

  “I think it’s the new do,” Natalie said. “Mo’s like a magnet for guys since Mr. Frederick worked his magic.”

  Mo shook her head as her lungs deflated. “You ask me, Mr. Frederick went to barber school with Colonel Sanders.”