Hollywood Taken Read online

  Al scoffed. “Give me a break. She’s a Natasha.”

  “A what?” Olivia said.

  He looked back at her. “A Russian working girl.”

  “She was Ukrainian.”

  “Whatever.” He cut his eyes back to Leo. “I’m willing to wager money that our victim was part of a circuit. They use young girls that are hot and dirty, and can multi-task.” He looked back at Olivia and me. “Unlike some American women.”

  “Are you saying what I think you are?” Olivia demanded, her voice pitching higher.

  Al smiled. “I’m saying that Russian, or in this case Ukrainian, girls get rich Americans in the sack, record what happens, and then blackmail them. I’m willing to bet that Anna Levkin was playing that game and it backfired on her. Someone didn’t want to pay up and our poor little victim paid for it with her life.”

  Our meeting ended shortly after Al had given us his thoughts and Olivia had walked out of the meeting. We were exhausted by the time Olivia and I left the station just before noon. Leo and Al had left an hour earlier because Leo had a school function for his granddaughter and Al said he had a headache from lack of sleep.

  Olivia was still angry over Al’s comments as we walked to her car so she could give Bernie and me a ride home. “It’s not bad enough that Corbin’s already made up his mind about our victim, his comments were inappropriate and demeaning to women.”

  “I’m going to have another chat with Leo about him,” I said as we reached her car. “If we’re all going to find a way to work together, he needs to clean up his act.”

  After I got Bernie in the back seat and we hit the road, Olivia said, “After we meet with the lieutenant in the morning, I say we divide up duties. Maybe Leo and Al can go to the au pair placement agency, while you and I talk to Felicia Darrow.”

  “That works for me. I also think we should have CCU take a look at Anna’s phone. Maybe they can get more information out of it.”

  “Already done. I arranged for Molly to run it over there this afternoon.”

  Molly was one of two civilian crime analysts assigned to the station that helped with our cases.

  After Olivia dropped Bernie and me at home, I heard some Latin music blaring from inside the house. When I opened the front door the scene I encountered was like something out of a music video. Natalie and Mo were dressed in short shorts and wearing bikini tops, while they danced around our butler, Otto.

  “Come on over,” Natalie said, waving to me as the music reverberated off the walls.

  “What’s going on?” I said, as Bernie wagged his tail and turned his head from side to side, trying to understand what he was seeing.

  “We’re doin’ the Despacito,” Mo said, undulating to the music. “Otto’s playing the part of Justin Bieber.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at Otto, who was dressed in tight pants, a long baggy shirt, and had on a short blonde wig. The beat of the music was irresistible, and, despite my exhaustion, I found myself being pulled onto their makeshift dance floor and dancing around the living room for the next few minutes.

  When the music finally ended, I tried to catch my breath and said, “What’s this all about?”

  “It was Otto’s idea,” Natalie said in her British accent. “He’s tryin’ to change his image.”

  Otto had removed his wig and was trying to finger comb what little hair he had on his head. “My apologies, ma’am. They’re putting on a performance at the community center next weekend and I thought I might join the festivities and...” He lowered his eyes and seemed lost for words.

  When he didn’t go on, Mo said, “Otto’s tryin’ to say he’s hopin’ it will help him get laid.”

  Natalie agreed. “He’s lookin’ for a guy since Clara grew a pair of knackers and turned into Clark.”

  Our butler had been the headmaster of a prestigious eastern boy’s school at one time. His employment had been terminated because he’d dated Clara, the single mother of one of his students, a violation of school policy. Clara had recently had some sexual reassignment surgery. Otto had subsequently confided in us that he was gay and had attempted to reunite with Clark, but things hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, hence his apparent attempt to change his lifestyle.

  “I’ll change and make some lunch,” Otto said, tucking his wig under his arm.

  “Don’t both on my account,” I said. “I’ve been up all night and am going to bed.”

  “Why don’t you join us in the atrium for a bit,” Natalie said. “Mo and me got us some news.”

  I sighed, knowing it was useless to argue with her. I decided I could use the time to unwind. “Okay, but just for a minute. I’m dead on my feet.”

  “Dead would be the right choice of words,” Mo said, as I followed them into our sun room overlooking the backyard. “Baby sis and me heard a Russian working girl ate it last night.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Me and Mo got more sources than the Washington Post,” Natalie said. “And your department is full of leakers.”

  I took a seat, knowing she was right. Word sometimes got around about my cases before I could get back to the station, and my friends always seemed to be in the know.

  “We heard your victim was just a kid,” Mo said, removing a bright red wig she’d worn during their musical performance. “Word on the street is there’s a bunch of girls from that country working high-end clients.”

  “They call ‘em Putin Pussycats,” Natalie said, chuckling. “On account of the Russian prez saying the girls from his country are the best.”

  “She’s just kiddin’ ‘bout the pussycat name,” Mo said. “Don’t know much ‘bout the other claim.”

  “Our victim was actually from the Ukraine,” I said, deciding there was no harm in correcting them since they already knew about the case. “And, we have nothing to show she was a working girl.”

  “Don’t tell me you really think she was a nanny?” Natalie said. She must have seen my questioning look and explained. “Like we said, word gets around.”

  “We’re still in the early stages of the investigation.” I said, trying to be noncommittal.

  “I hear a lot of high-rollers use the Crosby as their personal knocking shop. A lotta manky stuff goes on their and nobody talks.”

  It was the first I’d heard about the hotel being a place for hook-ups. “I’d appreciate it if you’d both let me know if there’s any more word on the streets about what happened.”

  “We’re better at snoopin’ than a couple investigative reporters. Speakin’ of that, me and Mo are now the Dick Chicks. You’re gonna see our mugs on billboards and buses all over town.”

  “Baby sis and me got a promotion now that Myrna’s running Jimmy’s PI biz,” Mo explained. “She’s plannin’ on expanding things, drummin’ up more business.”

  Jimmy was Myrna’s husband, s sleazy low-life who my friends had worked for. “I take it Jimmy’s still in the wind?”

  “Rumor has it he ran off with Tootsie Roll.”

  “Who?”

  “Her real name is Tammy Roll, one of Jimmy’s snitches,” Mo said. “But everyone calls her Tootsie.”

  Natalie smiled. “Maybe she’s got a problem with flatulence.”

  “Speakin’ of gas bags,” Mo said. “Me and baby sis just got us a security gig working for Lance Worman.”

  “Who?”

  Natalie answered. “He’s the owner of Razzi’s in Hollywood, digs the dirt on all the celebs.”

  “What’s Razzi’s?”

  She did an eye roll. “You sure you’re a copper. Razzi’s, as in paparazzi, as in he’s the guy who gets all the behind the scenes shots of Brad and Jennifer, not to mention Clooney and his twins.”

  My friends went on about Worman, telling me they expected to get the lowdown on all the celebrities in the city, even though Mo said the guy was lower than Jimmy Sweets on the evolutionary scale. That put him on a par with a bacterial infection as far as I was concerned.

  Otto c
ame into the room with a pitcher of iced tea and some cookies. He was back in his double-breasted black overcoat, dark trousers, and a small black tie, his customary outfit.

  “I’ll have a delicious repast of appetizers shortly,” Otto said before scurrying off.

  No sooner had he left than Tex, Natalie’s boyfriend, showed up with his sexual avatar, Dr. Doris. The robot, yes robot, dispensed dating and sex advice, not to mention peddling an aphrodisiac on the Internet.

  “Dr. D and I are making an appearance on the Dr. Rod show this Thursday,” Tex said. Natalie’s boyfriend was a Brainiac who looked like Einstein’s deranged brother, but he lacked any semblance of common sense.

  “Who is Dr. Rod?” I asked.

  Natalie did an eye-roll. “Rod the Bod is the new Dr. Phil. He’s not only hot, he’s walking rom-com?”

  “Huh?”

  “Baby sis means he’s in touch with his sensitive side and has a sense of humor,” Mo said. “Dr. Rod’s like a walking, talking romantic comedy.”

  “Maybe I should tag along with you and the doctor,” Natalie said to her boyfriend. “What do you say, Doris?”

  Tex’s avatar had a voice like Siri that lacked any affect. “You would be most welcome, Natalie. Maybe we could get a drink afterward.”

  Natalie looked at Tex. “I think your robot just hit on me.” She cut her eyes back to his avatar. “Didn’t you, Doris?”

  “I am extremely well versed in the sexual arts, irrespective of sexual orientation. I would be happy to show you some positions, then...”

  “That will be all,” Tex told his avatar. “Natalie is strictly off limits.”

  Doris ignored him and went on. “Exclusivity in human relationships does have its merits, but can result in extreme boredom. If you’d like, we could engage in a three way.” She looked at me and Mo. “Or even a six way, if you’re interested.”

  “There’s only five of us, in case you can’t count,” Mo said to her.

  “The gardener is outside.”

  “I believe the good doctor could use a tune-up before her appearance on the Dr. Rod show,” Tex said, taking his creation by the arm and leaving the room.

  After he was gone, I said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you both how things went at the Velvet Rabbit last night.”

  “You mean you didn’t hear?” Mo said.

  “I was a little busy.”

  “Uncle Fred and me brought the house down,” Natalie said. “And, there was an agent in the audience for that TV show Stand-up or Go Drown. He wants us to audition for the fall season.”

  “I’ve never heard of the show.”

  “Figures. It’s a comedy showdown, the winner moves on, while the loser gets flushed.”

  “Flushed?”

  “They put the loser in a contraption that looks like a giant toilet and they get flushed down the drain. It’s a laugh-riot.”

  It was my turn for the eye roll. “It sounds like it.”

  Natalie went on. “The offer to be on the show happened before Nana showed up and ruined everything.”

  “What did she do?”

  Mo answered. “She and Fred have been having some problems. She told him he was about as funny as a giant hemorrhoid and they got into a scrum.”

  “They’re both in the hospital,” Natalie said. “And Fred’s looking for another place to live.”

  “If he’s planning on moving in here again, I’m moving out,” I said.

  “He knows he’s worn out his welcome here,” Mo said. “I think he’s lookin’ for one of them swanky bachelor pads, maybe a penthouse with lots of swag.”

  Maybe it was my exhaustion, but I gave voice to what I was thinking. “I think your uncle needs to lay off the Viagra.”

  “Speakin’ of that,” Natalie said. “Don’t forget we got that actor, Freddie, coming by for drinks this week.”

  I groaned, remembering they’d met a guy who had a small part in their sitcom that they claimed was the perfect match for me. I had no desire to date an actor, but had mentioned Freddie to Jessica, a co-worker, who said she was interested in meeting him.

  “I’ll talk to Jessica again and see if she can make it.”

  Natalie’s nose turned up. “You sure you wanna set Freddie up with that shrew?”

  Jessica wasn’t exactly a shrew, but she did have her issues. “I think she’s mellowed, so let’s see how it goes.” I stood and yawned. “I’m going to head up to bed.

  Mo then mentioned something that made me sit back down. “Baby sis and me have been on the trail of Daniel. We think we got a lead on what happened to him.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We think he was spending some time at the Hightower Hotel, over in Studio City, maybe trying to hide out from Harlee.”

  “We’re gonna go by there again tomorrow, see if anyone knows where he went.”

  I sighed. “I appreciate that. By the way, Harlan Ryland is dead. He and Harlee apparently slipped back into the country and were staying in Phoenix.”

  “Did somebody whack him?” Natalie said. “‘Cause I hope he got what he had coming to him.”

  “I think he died of natural causes. Word also has it that Harlee’s coming after me, so you both need to stay alert.”

  “We been down that road before,” Mo said. “What about Pearl?”

  “Leo got word from Joe that he was on a fishing boat that sank. Someone on the boat called the authorities and said he thinks Pearl might have made it to shore, but there’s been no word from him.”

  My friends tried to be encouraging, telling me that Pearl was probably lying low and je would be in contact with me soon. I told them I hoped that was the case and started to head off to bed again.

  “Before you run off to la la land,” Mo said. “Baby sis and me are thinking ‘bout takin’ a little vacation and we want you to come along.”

  “Me Aunt Mattie is coming with us,” Natalie said. “She’s a little off, but it should be a kick.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “but a vacation is out of the question right now.”

  “Just think about it. After you solve your case, we can all hit the road.”

  I had no desire to go on vacation with Natalie’s aunt, especially if she was anything like Fred, but knew it was useless to argue with them. “We’ll see.”

  I was headed upstairs for bed, when Dr. Doris stopped me. Tex’s robot lowered her electronic voice. “I need your help, Kate.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s Tex. My creator wants...he wants me to have sex with him. I have no problem with the offer, but he hasn’t told Natalie and I don’t want to do anything behind her back.”

  It was like Dr. Frankenstein wanting to take a roll in the hay with one of his creations.

  “I’ll have a talk with Natalie and tell her what’s going on,” I said.

  I went to my bedroom, wondering how my life had come to this. In the past twenty minutes I’d done the Despacito, had an offer for an orgy with a robot, and been told I needed to go on vacation with Natalie’s crazy aunt.

  I fell into bed, pulling the pillow over my head, deciding my life was like some crazy, perverted sit-com that had gone horribly wrong.

  SIX

  “Anna Levkin’s autopsy is set for three this afternoon,” Jenny Durst told us the next morning in Lieutenant Byrd’s office. The crime analyst, Molly Wingate’s counterpart, was in early thirties, but didn’t look a day over twenty; a quintessential surfer girl. “I’m not sure who the assigned medical examiner is, but I heard through the grapevine that Earl Mumford is no longer with the coroner’s office.”

  Bernie settled in a corner for his morning nap as I glanced at Oliva. I then asked Jenny, “Was he fired?”

  Jenny shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me, but I’m not sure.”

  Molly spoke up. “I’ve heard there have been lots of complaints about him.”

  Olivia smiled. “Something tells me that his superiors finally got the message.”

 
“Whatever,” the lieutenant said, apparently not interested in the gossip. “Let’s just be sure we have someone there.”

  Harry Byrd, our recently assigned lieutenant, was in his fifties but looked much older, probably because of a thatch of messy white hair that sat upon his head like a nest, maybe in tribute to his last name. He had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but Olivia and I had found a way to get past that. While he didn’t hesitate to give us his opinion, we’d found him to be fair and impartial when it came to working cases.

  “Kate and I can attend the autopsy,” Olivia said, looking at me.

  I nodded in agreement, knowing that she was still feeling a connection to our victim and probably didn’t want Al there.

  The lieutenant went on. “Let’s go over what we know about the crime.”

  Jenny and Molly took turns, spending the next half hour summarizing our case, including the cause of death, the sexual assault, and the tattoo our victim had gotten shortly before her death.

  After Molly discussed the specifics of the homicide and told the lieutenant there was little in the way of physical evidence at the murder scene, Byrd said, “What about...” He checked his notes. “This guy, Ben Allman. Any chance the nanny-daddy was involved with our victim and tried to cover things up?”

  “We didn’t get that vibe,” I said. “There’s also the issue of the sexual assault with a foreign object. That kind of assault is usually a display of extreme rage or is meant to send a message.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “I’m not sure, but the degradation and humiliation is typical of sex offenders who are acting out of both depravity and some past trauma. There’s also the issue of a message we found in Anna’s bedroom closet. It was just a paper with some doodling, but she’d written a phrase in Russian that means, Game Over.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We’re not sure, but it might be that something was happening to her and she felt threatened.”

  Olivia then went back to discussing the sexual assault, telling the lieutenant, “The attack is probably symptomatic of someone who was probably abused as a child and has internalized that rage. The sexual assault acts as a short-term release until the past trauma returns and the tension builds again, resulting in another assault.”