Hollywood Dirty: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 5

  Charlie gave him the bare details, thankfully leaving out the part about me being taken hostage. “From what we know Ralston shot and killed a drug dealer in Bakersfield named, Tyson Gray, the night before he was killed. He was located by the police in an abandoned office building where he was barricaded. He was shot by a member of the local SWAT team.”

  “It was too good for him,” Bix said, the bitterness in his voice evident.

  His father put a hand on his son’s shoulder again, but Bix didn’t react.

  “We need to ask you a few questions about Mr. Ralston, if we may,” I said to Al. He nodded. “Before he died Ralston said something about Jezzie being stalked by someone. Can you tell us anything about that?”

  The big man shook his head slowly. “If she was being stalked it must have been by Ralston himself. They had their ups and downs, broke off the engagement. I think Jezzie was conflicted about her feelings for him.”

  “Why do you think they were having problems?” Charlie asked.

  His wife had recovered enough to interrupt and answer the question. “Barry had put a lot of pressure on Jezzie to get married, but…she wasn’t ready. I don’t…” Her tears came again. It took a moment for her to regain some composure. “I don’t think they would have gotten back together if Jezzie had lived. After she won the gold medal, she had lots of admirers. I think she and Barry had grown apart emotionally.”

  “Are there any admirers or maybe even old boyfriends who might have been bothering Jezzie?” I asked. “Maybe someone who was very persistent?”

  Flo looked at her husband, back to me. “She dated a young man off and on. They got together while she and Barry were having problems. They even shared an apartment for a little while to cover expenses. His name is Terry Gibson, but I don’t think…”

  “He’s a low life,” Bix said. “Definitely not good enough for Jezzie.”

  “What makes you say that?” Charlie asked.

  “He was using Jezzie. Even before she won the gold medal he wanted her to autograph stuff for him to sell. He was just a user. Jezzie figured him out.”

  “Did their relationship end amicably?” I asked.

  Bix shrugged. “Far as I know. He dropped out of school. Haven’t seen or heard from the guy in months.”

  I looked at the parents again. “Anyone else you can think of who might have been causing Jezzie trouble?”

  There were head shakes all around. Flo finally said, “Jezzie really didn’t have any other boyfriends. Her running took up most of her time.” The tears came again. “She was such a good person.”

  I reached over and touched her hand as the tears continued. I turned back to her husband and said, “What about friends of Jezzie’s? Is there anyone who might know if someone was causing her problems.”

  “All of Jezzie’s friends were on the Westridge U. track team,” Al Rose said. “But I don’t think anyone was causing problems.”

  I looked at Bix and arched my brows. He shook his head and said, “Everyone liked Jezzie.”

  I looked over at Charlie and nodded. He turned to the family and said, “We want you all to know, there’s probably going to be something on the news about all this. The reporters might say that Barry denied killing Jezzie and there was someone else who committed the crime. We just want you to be prepared.”

  “But you don’t believe that’s true?” Al asked.

  Charlie shook his head. “As of now, Ralston is still our only suspect, but we’re taking another look at everything just to be sure. Barry had a prior history of causing a domestic disturbance and Jezzie had signs of abuse on her body. Unless something new comes up we still think he’s our guy.”

  Al looked at his wife and son, his face sagging. “I just wish this would all go away. We’ve suffered enough.”

  “The reporters can be very persistent,” I said. “You might want to be prepared for them coming to your door, asking for interviews.”

  The big man hissed out a slow breath. “I guess we should be used to it by now—sort of.”

  Bernie came over to my side as I stood. “Before we go, would it be possible for us to see Jezzie’s room? I’d like to get a feel for the kind of person she was in life.”

  Al came up slowly. His wife was in tears again. “You’re acting like you’ve reopened the entire investigation.”

  “We just need to be sure that we’ve looked at everything thoroughly,” I said.

  “I’ll show them her room,” Bix offered. His parents nodded and we excused ourselves.

  As we entered the bedroom, Bix said, “My sister’s room is pretty much as it was when…” He turned to us. “It hasn’t been touched. My parents don’t even come in here. I think it’s too painful.”

  “We understand,” I said, my gaze moving over a room that was overflowing with ribbons and trophies. Even Jezzie’s bed had several ribbons strewn across it. I noticed that the top of an antique brown dresser was full of awards from her college days.

  I walked over to a shelf in the corner and found Jezzie’s Olympic medal lying there. It seemed odd that it wasn’t in a display case or someplace more visible. Maybe it was just another part of the painful memories the family was trying to put aside.

  “Jezzie’s old boyfriend,” I said to Bix. “Terry Gibson. Would there possibly be a photograph of him that I could borrow?”

  Bix shrugged. “Not sure.” His eyebrows came together and he scratched his head. “I’ve probably got an old picture or two of him and Jezzie on my phone or laptop, maybe even on Facebook. I could take a look and forward it to you when I find it.”

  I gave him my card, thanked him, and we said our goodbyes.

  ***

  Back on the street, I turned to Charlie before we got to the car and said, “Nice family. I wonder if they’ll ever recover from what happened.”

  Charlie raked two fingers through his dyed moustache. “Doubt it. I’ve seen a lot of parents split up after the death of their kid. Not easy to find your way back from something like that.”

  After I settled Bernie in the backseat and we were in the car, I said, “Did you get any feeling that maybe the family knows more than they let on—about Jezzie being stalked, I mean?”

  Charlie shrugged. “Hard to say. Let’s go by the school, talk to some coaches and the kids on the track squad. If somebody besides Ralston was after Jezzie, she must have confided in somebody.”

  As we drove through the neighborhood, Charlie’s words brought my adoptive mom’s circumstances to mind. She’d lived with the secret about who murdered my father for over thirty years. The man who murdered him, Ryan Cooper, had threatened to kill her if she ever told the authorities what really happened. She had been so terrified that she’d kept the truth from me that Cooper’s former girlfriend at the time, Judie Crawford, was my biological mother.

  Secrets, especially the family kind, can be a dark well, sometimes without a bottom. While I had no suspicions that Jezzie’s family was hiding anything, I decided to keep that in mind as we investigated her murder. At the same time I was determined to find a way to bring my father’s own killer to justice.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Later that afternoon, after we left the Roses, stopped for lunch, and ran some errands, we were escorted across the grounds of Westridge University by an attractive student guide named Marissa. The school was not far from the more famous and much larger UCLA campus. As Bernie sniffed a bed of violet geraniums lining the walkway from the administrative offices, we got a history of the school Jezzie Rose had attended.

  “WU is a small private college set on twenty three acres in the foothills of the wilderness park,” Marissa said. Her voice reminded me of one of those princesses from Disneyland, a little too enthusiastic and practiced. “The school was founded by Ben Rawlings, the Olympic track and field star, in the 1970’s. As you probably know the university has become famous for its athletes, many with Olympic aspirations like mine.”

  “What’s your sport?” Charlie asked, suckin
g on his teeth. We’d stopped for lunch at Mel’s Drive-In. My partner had tried to impress me by having a salad but then chased it with strawberry pie and ice cream.

  “Gymnastics,” Marissa beamed. “The parallel bars to be more precise. I’m hoping to compete in the next games.”

  “We’ll watch for you,” I said, as we stopped at the entrance to the gymnasium. It was a soaring modern chrome and steel affair that suggested something along the lines of a rocket. I checked my watch and said, “Thanks for the tour, Marissa. We’re a little early so we’ll just wait for Coach Baylor, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not a problem.” She swiveled in the direction of the administrative offices, took two steps, and then turned back to us. “Is this about Jezzie?”

  “Did you know her?”

  Marissa nodded. “Of course. She was probably Westridge’s most famous athlete in the past decade. Besides, we’re a small campus. Everyone knew Jezzie.”

  “What was she like?” Charlie asked, before pushing a stick of gum in his mouth. He was trying to stop smoking again, substituting sugar for nicotine.

  Marissa’s unlined brow furrowed. “Jezz was nice but in a quiet way. She was different than what people saw on TV. More reserved, even kind of shy.” Her lips turned up. “I think that’s why I liked her. She was a lot like me.”

  I smiled, nodding my understanding. “Do you know if anyone might have been bothering Jezzie in the weeks before she died, maybe causing her trouble?”

  She shrugged. “All I know is that creep Barry was a handful. I heard that he was trying to get back with her. I think he resented her success.”

  “In what way?” Charlie asked.

  Her shoulders went up again. “It’s hard to explain.” She paused for a moment before adding, “Jezzie was really popular after winning her medal. She had lots of admirers. She said something to me once about Barry not being happy about that.”

  Charlie chewed, asked, “Were some of those admirers guys?”

  “I’m sure they must have been. All I know is that Jezzie got a lot of attention. She said something once about Barry being jealous of that.”

  “Jezzie had a boyfriend before she met Barry,” I said. “His name was Terry Gibson. Did you know him?”

  Marissa shook her head. “No, sorry. I’ve only been here for a little more than a year. She was with Barry most of that time.”

  I handed her a business card. “If you remember anything about Jezzie having problems with anyone, other than Barry, give me a call or a text.”

  She took the card, looked up at me. “I thought that with what happened to Barry things would be over. Do you think someone else…”

  “We’re just making sure all the bases are covered. Thanks Marissa.”

  Bernie took some time, sampling an exotic assortment of flowers and bushes while we waited for Tom Baylor. As we strolled along the walkway I turned, hearing a familiar voice calling from the doorway of a building next to the gymnasium.

  “Did ya come for the yoga class?” Natalie asked, walking toward us with Mo trailing behind. My British friend had on a skin tight pink halter top and black stretch pants. Mo, on the other hand, wore purple, as in a purple top, purple pants, purple sneakers, and purple hair. She looked a little like that children’s character, Barney, only in this case the dinosaur was endowed with giant purple breasts.

  “What are you two doing here?” Even as I asked the question I was almost sure I knew what they were up to.

  “Just takin’ one of them community college classes,” Natalie said. “This yoga stuff really takes the biscuit. The instructor looks a little like that hunky guy who played James Bond.”

  Mo mopped her large brow. “Yeah but this stuff is a real workout. Fraid my downward dog even did the Nana bark a couple of times.”

  I put my hands on my hips, my gaze travelling between them. “So tell me what really gives?”

  Natalie smiled. “Okay, so we’re guilty of doing a little snoop’n. Jezzie, took this same yoga class when she attended school here. Thought we’d ask around, get the low down from anyone who might have known her.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of our investigation?”

  “We’re just doing a few yoga poses and asking around,” Mo said. “If we find out anything of interest you’ll be the first to know.”

  I shook my head. “I’ll bet.”

  “Hey, I just had a bulb pop,” Natalie said. “Why don’t you and Charlie join us?” She looked at my partner. “Betcha you could do a mean cow face.”

  “A cow what?” Charlie said. “Is that some kind of crack about my weight?”

  “No, it’s one of the poses.” Natalie turned to her purple partner. “You got that one down, Mo. How ‘bout a demonstration?”

  We all watched as Mo got on the ground and began folding herself into something akin to a giant human pretzel. Her legs crossed and her arms twisted behind her back. It looked like she’d tied herself into a knot. She grimaced, her face taking on the look of someone who was either giving birth or trying out for the World Wrestling Federation. After the cow face demonstration ended Mo relaxed her pose. Natalie helped unfold and hoist Barney back to her feet.

  “It’s all in the breathing,” Mo said, acting like she’d just run a marathon. “It’s ‘bout finding your Prana.” She looked at Charlie. “You do know what that is, don’t you?”

  Charlie looked from my friends to me and then back at Mo. “I’m not discussing anything personal with either of you.”

  I guessed that Charlie was still hurting from a recent discussion he’d had with my friends about certain sexual practices. Mo gave my partner an unsolicited explanation of the sexual energy that can be released through yoga as I recognized Tom Baylor coming out of the gym. I pulled Charlie away just when he seemed to be getting interested in what Mo had to say.

  “One final warning,” I said, turning back to my friends. “Stay out of our investigation.”

  We met up with Westridge’s athletic director in a courtyard near the practice field. I’d recognized Tom Baylor from the many TV interviews he’d done regarding the school’s athletes.

  “I have to confess that I’m a little surprised to see the police are back investigating the case,” Baylor said after we exchanged greetings. The track and field coach looked like he was in his late thirties. He was tall and lean, the typical build of a long distance runner.

  “We’re just relooking at a few things,” Charlie said. “Following up on some information before we officially close out our files.”

  Baylor said that he was on his way to the practice field, but offered to let us follow him and chat. “As I told the detectives that investigated the case before, I’ll help in any way I can. Jezzie didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was a great kid.”

  I asked Baylor what he knew about Jezzie’s personal life. “Was she having any family or relationship problems that you were aware of?”

  Baylor said hello to a couple of students entering the practice field before turning back to me. “She and Barry had their ups and downs from what I heard. But Jezzie got along well with everyone.” We stopped in front of the track a few yards from where a couple of runners were practicing leaving the starting blocks. “She had a certain spirit about her that was genuine and kind. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.”

  “What about stalkers?” Charlie said, coming right to the point. “Attractive girl like Jezzie wins a gold medal, it had to bring some crazies out of the wood work.”

  “Probably,” Baylor said. “But if there was anything serious going on like that Shane would have told me and I would have followed up.”

  “Shane?”

  “Jezzie had a personal trainer and coach assigned to work with her pretty much exclusively. Shane Mumford was probably as close to her as anyone. You might want to give him a call.”

  Baylor retrieved Mumford’s phone number from his phone and I wrote it down. It seemed odd to me that the Ro
se’s hadn’t mentioned their daughter’s trainer.

  We walked onto the center of the practice field where Baylor exchanged small talk with several athletes. He seemed to relate to the kids in a natural way, unlike a lot of coaches who I knew from my high school days could be distant and intimidating.

  When he came back over to us, Baylor said, “You might also want to talk to Sandra Weimer.” He motioned to a tall young woman doing stretching exercises across the field. “The detectives who handled the case before already talked to her, but she was pretty much Jezzie’s best friend on the squad.”

  We thanked him and a few moments later met up with the woman the athletic director had pointed out. After we introduced ourselves, Sandra said, “I’ve already said everything that I know.” She began walking away.

  “Sandra,” I called after her. “Give us five minutes, please. You owe that much to Jezzie.”

  She turned, did a little stretch of her leg muscles again, and then came back over to us. “Sorry. I just hate talking about what happened. I’ve tried to put it out of my mind.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Let me tell you exactly why we’re here, Sandra. We recently obtained some information about Jezzie possibly being stalked around the time she was murdered. It could have been by a fan or someone she was close to. What can you tell us about that?”

  Sandra Weimer was lean and muscular with long brown hair. Her dark skin glowed in the spring sunshine. “There was a guy who started coming around after Jezzie won her medal. He was showing up at her practices. She said that Barry heard about him and got angry.”

  “Do you know his name?”

  Sandra shook her head. “Jezzie wouldn’t say who he was. I saw him talking to her once and could tell she was real scared of him.”

  “Could his name be Terry Gibson?” I asked. “He was an old boyfriend of Jezzie’s.”

  Another head shake. “Jezzie told me about Terry. They shared an apartment for a little while, but I don’t think it was anything serious. She showed me his picture. This guy looked nothing like Terry. He was big, a body builder type with long hair that he wore in a ponytail.”