Hollywood Dirty: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Read online

  ***

  I spent the better part of the day with Charlie, Bernie, Detective Good, and a dozen of Bakersfield’s finest in the neighborhood around the Winslow Apartments without turning up any leads on Ralston. We were ready to call it a day when my phone rang.

  I recognized Natalie’s number as I answered. “How was your trip back to Hollywood?”

  Natalie spoke in a hushed tone. “Ah…actually we made us a little detour, Kate. We’re still in Bakersfield.”

  “What? Where are you?”

  “Me, Mo, and Nana are with Barry Ralston.” Natalie lowered her voice even further. “The dirty wanker’s holdin’ us all at gunpoint.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “We got SWAT in place and a hostage negotiator on the way,” Detective Good said to Charlie and me after the line went dead. “The fact that your friends aren’t already dead is a miracle.” Bernie paced nervously on his leash at my side. We’d taken cover behind an armored police vehicle a block down the street from the Winslow Apartments. The rundown, low income projects had been evacuated, the area sealed off.

  “Tell me again what your friend told you,” Good said.

  “Natalie said that they stopped by the apartments and learned from one of Tyson Gray’s friends that Ralston was hiding nearby.” I motioned to the abandoned two story office building across the street. “She said they surprised Ralston when they searched the building but he took them hostage. Natalie was able to give me the location before her phone went dead.”

  “Barry Ralston is already wanted for two murders,” Charlie said. “He’s desperate and knows he’s got nothing to lose. I don’t like the odds.”

  I blew out a lung full of bad air. I said to Good, “I’m going to try Natalie’s phone again.”

  The big cop shrugged. “Go ahead, but just so you know we’re waiting ‘til the hostage negotiator gets here before making any decisions on how to proceed.”

  I’d already tried Natalie’s number a half dozen times but each time the call had gone to voice mail. I dialed again and waited. I heard a click and what I thought was the sound of muffled voices, possibly someone moving around. “Natalie, are you there?”

  I heard a voice in the background again, this time it was a little clearer. I recognized Nana’s high pitched voice. “They got your sorry ass surrounded…give it up Ralston…”

  I then heard a man say, “Shut up you crazy old fruit fly.”

  “Who’s there?” I demanded.

  After a moment I realized Ralston was on the line. “Just so you know, I’m going to shoot them all starting with the farting grandma. She’s driving me nuts.”

  “No wait,” I said. “Let’s talk Mr. Ralston. My name is Detective Kate Sexton. I work for LAPD. I know you’re innocent, that you didn’t kill Jezzie.” It was a total lie. I was stalling for time, making stuff up.

  There was a hesitation, more talk in the background that I couldn’t make out. Ralston then said, “Why should I believe anything you say?”

  “Because it’s true. I know that Jezzie had her problems and somebody didn’t want her talking about what was happening.” Yeah, like you, asshole.

  “I was set up. Jezzie and me…” He’s started to choke up. He began to speak again but stopped. He finally went on. “We had our problems but I didn’t shoot her, I swear it.”

  “I believe you, Mr. Ralston,” I lied. “Give yourself up so that we can talk about it and…”

  “After what happened last night, I’m on my way to death row anyway. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.”

  “Maybe what happened last night was self-defense. We know that Tyson Gray was a drug dealer. All you need is a good lawyer and who knows how things will play in front of a jury. They might even think what you did in killing a drug dealer was justifiable.”

  “Gray was an asshole who deserved what he got.”

  “There’s your defense. Who knows how many lives Gray ruined? You did the world a favor.”

  There was silence on the line. I looked at Detective Good and Charlie who both had their ears close to the phone, listening in.

  As I waited for him to respond I thought about how I was giving legal advice to a homicide suspect. All he needed was a good lawyer. That was an oxymoron. Lawyers are like leeches, the only difference being that a leech will stop sucking your blood when you die—but don’t get me started.

  Ralston finally came back on the line. “Here’s how this goes down, Detective. I want a trade. You meet me upstairs, come unarmed, and I release your three friends.”

  “It’s a deal,” I said, looking at Good who was shaking his fleshy head back and forth.

  “Move down the street with your hands up and then take the stairs to the second floor.” I heard Ralston say something in the background that sounded like crazy ass before he came back on the line. “One other thing. Just so you know, if I had friends like yours, I’d shoot myself in the head.”

  After the call ended, Detective Good spoke up before I could say anything. “We’re not trading you for hostages. We wait for the negotiator.”

  I locked eyes with the tubby cop. “You heard Ralston. He’s desperate. I’m not waiting around.” I handed Charlie my service weapon and Bernie’s leash. As I turned toward the street, Good put a big hand on my arm and stopped me. “Not another step, little lady, or I’ll have you arrested.”

  I turned back to Good, brushed his hand away, and stood belly to breast with the beast.

  “First, I am not a little lady. I’m a cop, just like you. Second, we have a desperate double-homicide suspect who is holding three women hostage that he’s threatened to shoot. I will not stand around waiting for some hot shot mouthpiece to try and blow smoke up his ass. Third, you try to arrest me and I will be sure that the press from here to Hollywood knows that you interfered in defusing a situation that will likely result in the death of three innocent, unarmed women.”

  Good’s fleshy face twitched a couple of times, before it finally softened. He blinked. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. But just so you know, if we get a clear shot at the suspect, we’re taking him down. You need to know that for your own safety.”

  I swiveled away from Good while he radioed to the other officers what was happening. As I was headed toward the street I heard Charlie calling behind me. My partner tries to act like a father, obsessing over keeping me out of danger. It irritates the living hell out of me.

  I stopped and turned back to him for an instant, cutting off his protest. “Do not interfere, Charlie. These are my friends. This is my choice, not yours.”

  I turned away again, headed down the street before Daddy Charlie and Detective Good could say another word. When I got to the fenced-off brown office building I found an opening where the chain link had been cut. I took a breath and stepped inside. I held out my arms and began walking up the exterior stairway.

  “Up here,” I heard Ralston calling out from a doorway at the top of the stairway. “As soon as you’re inside I’ll release your friends.”

  When I got to the open doorway a muscular arm reached out and pulled me inside. I realized I was standing in what was once a reception area. My friends came out of an inner office and started to come over as Ralston searched me.

  “Stay right where you are,” Ralston said, waving them off with his gun as he ran a hand over my clothes, searching for weapons.

  “Keep your greasy hands to yourself you ugly tonker,” Natalie called out. “That’s a cop and a lady yer feelin’ up.”

  Ralston, apparently satisfied that I was unarmed, stepped back. I saw that he was about six feet, solidly built, with a shaved head. He reminded me of that wrestler turned actor, Duane The Rock Johnson.

  He looked at my roommates and said, “You can thank your friend for saving your sorry asses. Another five minutes and I’d have shot you all just to shut you up.” He motioned to the door with his gun. “Get out.”

  As she passed by Ralston, Natalie said, “You know what they say. Lotsa talk mea
ns a little cock.”

  Mo practically pushed Natalie out the door. She looked at me and said, “You be careful, Kate.” She glanced at Ralston. “This one reminds me of Earl Conners.”

  I understood the reference. Connors was a muscle-bound steroid user from a prior case.

  Nana stopped at the doorway as the others moved outside and farted. “Whoops, there goes another love puff.”

  “You’re like some kinda crazy ass old fart machine,” Ralston said to her.

  Nana turned to me. “When do I get the reward?”

  “What?”

  She motioned to Ralston. “For finding the scumbag killer. I could use a few extra coins.”

  Ralston came over and pushed Nana through the door. He locked it behind her, looked at me, and said, “I feel sorry for you having to put up with that group of nutballs.” He brought his gun up and pointed it at me. “That doesn’t mean I won’t shoot you if you try anything.”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior. You have my word.”

  He lowered the weapon, motioned toward an interior door. “Let’s talk inside the office.”

  Once we had settled in a conference room that looked like it had been part of an insurance office at one time, Ralston got down to business.

  “I want a car and a guarantee the cops will back off, not follow us. Once we’re clear I’ll release you.” He pushed a cell phone over to me. “Make the call.”

  I shook my head. “Not gonna happen. Like I said before, your best play is to give yourself up. Find a good lawyer and take your chances with a jury.”

  Ralston shook his head, smirked. “There’s a small problem with your advice. I’m flat broke. My case will go to the public defender’s office and they don’t make good lawyers there. I’ll get a half-ass defense and the needle. We both know it.”

  He had a point. It was rare to find a competent lawyer working in a thankless job that represented the indigent. I knew that I had to come up with something fast. Ralston’s plan of getting a car and trying to make a getaway with me as a hostage was a disaster waiting to happen—especially with Detective Good and his merry band of trigger-happy cohorts.

  “You’re missing something,” I said as inspiration struck. “The press is all over your case and what happened to Jezzie. The private attorneys will be lining up to represent you just for the free publicity. You’re a golden ticket, a trump card waiting to be pulled.”

  Ralston apparently hadn’t considered that possibility. His gaze moved away from me for a moment, the wheels turning. An errant thought about trying to overpower him crossed my mind but there was nothing in the office that could be used as a weapon. And Ralston was strong, with the body of a weightlifter. I knew I was overmatched. The only weapon I had was my mouth, which, sometimes, is almost as good as a gun.

  “You really think I have a chance?” Ralston said, apparently warming to the idea. “Or are you just telling me something we both know will never happen?”

  I leaned forward, staring into his dark eyes. I lied through my teeth. “I know a half dozen great lawyers that I will personally call and ask to take your case. At the very worst, you could be looking at a manslaughter conviction on the Tyson Gray killing. As for Jezzie…”

  “I didn’t kill her…” His voice cracked. There were tears in his eyes. “You’ve got to believe me. There’s a lot more to what happened than anyone knows.”

  “I’m listening and I promise you one thing.” I pressed my hands on my knees, pitching my body closer to him. “Your side of the story will get told, both in court and to the press. I will personally make sure of that.”

  That was a good one. While I had no doubt that his story, whatever it was, would get told in court and eventually to the press, it wouldn’t come from me.

  Ralston stood up. He began pacing around the conference room as he considered his options. He finally turned back to me. “Jezzie wasn’t the person everyone thinks she was. I know the truth about everything that happened.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Ralston’s eyes remained fixed on me and he nodded. He then walked over to the door. “Stay put, I’m going to check on things outside, then we’ll talk.”

  Staying put was the only option I had since the conference room had no widows and only one way out. A few moments later, my captor came back from the outer office with a bottle of water.

  Ralston stopped in the doorway and said, “Jezzie and me had broken up. We were only seeing one another off and on. She was being stalked…”

  I heard a gunshot from somewhere outside the office building. Barry Ralston’s muscular body jerked and then pitched forward. It took me a moment, but the awareness that one of Detective Good’s officers must have taken the shot finally hit me. Ralston fell forward, falling on top of me before I had a chance to react.

  I was knocked out of my chair onto the floor where I was smothered by Ralston’s large body. As I struggled to free myself I heard a gurgling sound. Something akin to a terrified scream rose up, before falling away to silence.

  By the time I finally pushed Ralston’s body off me and came up to my knees I was covered with blood that was still pumping from the open wound in his chest. I knew it was futile, even as I said the words, but I still had to make the effort.

  I leaned over him, raising my voice. “What about Jezzie? Tell me what you know.”

  Ralston drew a final watery breath as the SWAT team broke through the door and found us on the floor. I looked over as Detective Good burst into the room behind them with Charlie and Bernie at his side.

  The big Bakersfield cop holstered his weapon and said, “It looks like God just prosecuted our suspect.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Before he died Ralston denied killing Jezzie and said something about her being stalked.” I said.

  We were in a conference room at Hollywood Station. I was sitting across from Lieutenant Edna and Charlie with Bernie at my feet. The red brick, unadorned building served as our part-time duty station, along with our official assignment as part of Homicide Special Section in Los Angeles. It was mid-morning and I could hear a muffled chorus of voices and phones in the stationhouse.

  I continued, “He also told me that Jezzie wasn’t the person everyone thought she was, whatever that means.”

  “What about the stalking angle?” Edna asked. “Did that come up in the original investigation?”

  I had the murder book in front of me. “There’s nothing in the reports. The autopsy did establish that Jezzie’s body showed evidence of recent abuse—some bruising and a broken rib.”

  I heard a jangling sound as Bernie stood up and trotted off to a corner. I envied his ability to sleep on the job. I’d been up most of the night after my literal blood bath, cleaning up, debriefing what had happened with the Bakersfield PD, and writing reports. I hadn’t made it back to Hollywood until after four in the morning.

  Charlie pulled apart a sugar twist and told Edna, “It was assumed during the original investigation that Ralston was good for the abuse since he and Jezzie had been engaged at one time but were separated. He’d been trying to get back into her life when she was murdered. There was also a domestic disturbance report taken a few months before she died.”

  I suppressed a yawn. “The report listed Ralston as creating the disturbance, but Jezzie denied any domestic violence, so the case didn’t go anywhere. There’s nothing that directly ties Ralston to Jezzie’s abuse or her murder, for that matter. Our victim was found shot through the head and dumped in an alleyway. Ralston was the only viable suspect because of their past relationship, the coroner’s report indicating signs of abuse, and because he ran when we got the warrant. But the case against him was entirely circumstantial.”

  Edna sat back in his chair and brushed a hand through his graying hair. The lieutenant was in his late fifties, nearing retirement. His coffee colored eyes shifted, his gaze taking in both of us as he said, “None of that means Ralston didn’t do it.”

  “Ther
e’s another problem with the case that Jessica and her partner put together,” Charlie said, referring to Jessica Barlow and Barry Liebowitz who had originally worked the case. “Ralston’s mother claims he was home with her the night of Jezzie’s murder.”

  “My mother would say the same thing about me even if I was a fucking vampire out trying to break into a blood bank.”

  Charlie swallowed. “Yeah, but there’s someone who corroborated the alibi. A pizza delivery guy confirmed that Ralston was home with his mother the night Jezzie was killed.”

  “The coroner established the TOD as sometime between eight and midnight,” I said. “The pizza was delivered at ten, so it’s a big enough window for Ralston to have still gone out, killed Jezzie, and dumped her body.”

  “I take it there was no physical evidence directly tying Ralston to the murder,” Edna said.

  I shook my head. “No trace, blood, prints, or DNA.”

  “Fuck.” The lieutenant picked up a pink message slip and tossed it across his desk to me. “That reporter from our last case has been calling again.”

  “Haley Tristan,” I said, reading the name.

  “She’s been leaving messages for me like I’m her new best friend.” The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed on me. “I want you to deal with her.”

  “I don’t…”

  “Just a phone call. Give her the barest details, lots of no comments, and tell her that we’re actively looking at the Rose case again.”

  “Why me?” I remembered how I’d been forced to give Tristan an interview about a previous case, in exchange for her giving up her associate and another cop as the source of a leak to the press. I’d been falsely accused of the leak and it had been the only way for me to clear my name.

  “Because,” Edna said. “You work for me and I’m giving you a direct fucking order.”

  I sighed, looked over at Charlie. He was pushing the remnants of the sugar twist down his throat like a python swallowing a rat. I turned back to the lieutenant. “Does this mean the Rose case is ours?”