Hollywood Intrigue: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Read online

  The bug doctor cut his eyes toward Selfie and then back to me, “Your assistant told me that you need some help identifying a unique specimen.”

  I removed the plastic container Brie had given us from a bag. I pushed it across the desk to Jernigan, hearing the faint buzzing sound. “This was found at the scene of a recent homicide.”

  The bug doctor picked up the container and put on his glasses, making his large eyes seem preternatural. The buzzing sound grew louder as he shook the container. After a moment, his goggle-sized eyes found me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve got here?”

  I shook my head. “It looks like some kind of wasp.”

  Jernigan’s uneven features didn’t change. “The species is native to Brazil. It’s called a marimbondo, more commonly known as a throat locker.”

  “Can you explain what you mean?” I asked, as Jernigan studied our specimen again. He seemed enraptured by what he was seeing, ignoring me for a moment.

  Jernigan finally went on, “The name comes from the fact that the marimbondo’s venomous sting is not only extremely painful, but, in some cases, deadly, causing the victim’s throat to close-up and respiratory arrest to follow. The spider-wasp is part of the pompilidae family, with as many as 5,000 species in several subfamilies scattered throughout the world.”

  I glanced over at Selfie, seeing that her even features were scrunched up, maybe in horror, over what we’d heard. It occurred to me that our victim might have been asphyxiated as a result of the stings to her throat as Brie had speculated.

  Ted was scribbling notes on a pad. “And the spider?” he asked.

  Jernigan again studied the specimen for a moment before removing his glasses and looking at my partner. “What we have here is a dance, one that uses death to bring life into the world.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean?” I said to the entomologist. “Can you explain it to us in layman’s terms?”

  A smile found the bug doctor’s fleshy lips. I had the impression that he was reveling in what he knew. “Spider-wasps are solitary creatures that use a spider for sustenance. They use their stinger to paralyze the victim and drag it into a nest, which is usually a burrow. The marimbondo then engages in a variety of solitary behaviors, preparing the nesting area where the spider is imprisoned. The purpose is to protect the nest by using chemical compounds produced by other dead creatures it kills to deter predators.

  “And all this time, the spider is still alive?” Sophie asked. I had the impression she was trying to keep her voice even, despite the horrific nature of what he was describing.

  “Oh, indeed. That’s because the spider serves a very specific purpose in this dance.”

  “As food,” I said.

  Jernigan tilted his head toward me, raising his brows. “Yes, in a sense, but it’s not food for the wasp.” His gaze went back over to the container.

  “Go on,” Ted said, maybe annoyed with the way Jernigan seemed to be enjoying his story.

  The entomologist’s bug-eyes found us again. “Once the spider is in the burrow, the wasp lays a single egg on its abdomen. When the wasp-larva hatches, it begins to feed on the still living spider.”

  “You mean they eat the spider while it’s alive?” Sophie asked, now unable to hide her revulsion.

  “Yes indeed, until it’s completely consumed. The wasp larva then spins a cocoon and pupates, eventually emerging as an adult specimen.” Jernigan’s dark eyes found the container again. “As I said, this is a dance that uses death to bring life into the world.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Ted was still scribbling notes while I tried to assimilate what Dr. Barden Jernigan had told us as it related to our homicide. I glanced at Selfie who still seemed in a state of shock over what she’d heard.

  My gaze found our insect expert again and I gave voice to the only other question I had. “You mentioned that the wasp paralyzes the spider and drags it into a burrow. Have you ever heard of a human being, maybe a dead body, being used as part of this process?”

  Jernigan’s squat features pinched together, maybe resembling one of his inspect specimens. “What?”

  I motioned to the container. “Our spider-wasp and its victim were found in the mouth of a homicide victim.”

  “Oh my…” Jernigan glanced over at the buzzing container again and seemed unable to continue.

  “Well?” I asked.

  The entomologist found my eyes again. “I suppose it’s possible. In that case it would mean that a human being was used as a host.”

  EIGHT

  The girl he wants is small in stature, maybe thirteen or fourteen, younger than the other girl, the one who ended up in the cave. Even though she’s with a group of children on the playground, he notices that she plays by herself. He’s watched her mother for several minutes. The woman is distracted, barely aware of her surroundings or her daughter. When the woman turns and walks away, talking on her cell phone, William Monroe seizes the opening.

  He moves over to the girl, bringing the little mutt he got from the pound with him. As he moves in on the target, Monroe again scans the area where the girl’s mother is still talking on her cell phone. She’s moving off, strolling down a hill and almost out of sight.

  Perfect.

  “Hello,” the girl says when he’s within a few feet of her. “What’s your dog’s name?”

  Monroe bends down, running his slender fingers over the animal. While he’s in his late twenties, the sexual predator knows that he looks much younger. He’s sometimes even taken for a high school kid.

  “His name is Paws, because he has big feet.” He smiles at the girl, his excitement growing. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Tammy.”

  “Would you like to pet him, Tammy?” She reaches out, but then hesitates. Monroe chuckles. “Don’t be afraid. He’s friendly.”

  The girl takes a moment but finally finds the courage to pet the dog. After another glance in the direction of Tammy’s mother and seeing that the woman is nowhere in sight, the building sexual tension the offender feels grows.

  Monroe looks back at the girl. “I have another dog.” He removes a bowl from his backpack. “He’s thirsty and I’m going to take him some water. Would you like to help me?”

  The girl’s eyes widen. “Okay, sure.”

  He hands her the dog’s leash. “Here you can walk him. I can already tell Paws likes you.”

  A final glance in the direction of the girl’s mother and Monroe is satisfied that he’s safe. As he and the girl move toward the parking lot, his excitement builds, long-ago memories of another girl surfacing.

  It was nine years ago. He was in college at the time and lived with his aunt and uncle. He had been to the same park several times before, practicing and perfecting his craft. A craft, that’s what it is. Some people might think of a sexual offender as someone dirty and perverted. Nothing could be farther from the truth. What he does is an art that satisfies a natural need. It’s all about learning, or maybe it’s more a matter of remembering, what it’s like to be a child, how to gain their confidence and trust. Then it’s just a matter of taking the girl and doing what comes naturally, meeting his needs.

  He had kept the last girl for almost a week before his aunt found her in the garage. The bitch had called the police and before he knew it he was facing multiple counts of child molestation and rape. Nine years. That’s how long he spent anticipating his freedom and going through the motions of treatment. What a fucking joke. The only treatment he needs is walking beside him right now.

  Monroe glances down at the monitoring device on his ankle. Even though he’s at a park where there are children, he thinks he’s safe. The idiot parole offer assigned to him let it slip that there are what she called “dead zones” in the monitoring system, just like when a cell phone loses service. She’d said that the area north of the boulevard was one of those zones and warned him to stay away from the park. Dead zone was the perfect description. Even if the agent realizes he’s be
en in a dead zone, Monroe is ready with an alibi.

  “I better tell my mom,” the girl says, drawing his attention back to her.

  Monroe sees that she’s turning back toward the park. He follows her, calling out, “I already talked to her. She said it’s okay to help me with Paws and the other dog.”

  The girl hesitates and then nods her head, coming back over to him. “Okay. I just wanted to be sure.”

  “Let’s hurry now,” Monroe says, glancing over his shoulder, at the same time wrapping an arm around the girl and ushering her toward the parking lot. He sees the girl’s mother is now scanning the playground, looking for her daughter. He raises his voice, “Faster. Let’s go.”

  Monroe is at the edge of the parking lot when he hears the woman screaming and running in his direction. He’s less than twenty yards from his van but knows it will take time to get the girl inside and restrained.

  He releases a breath in frustration and looks down at the girl. “You’d better go see your mother. She’s coming this way.”

  When the girl turns away from him, Monroe quickly walks away from the area. When he’s out of sight, he sprints down a pathway and leaves the park. After a few minutes he stops, pushing down his anger, and cursing the little dog.

  It takes him another twenty minutes to calm down. When William Monroe moves on again, he knows there will be other opportunities. The sexual predator will watch and wait until his skills are rewarded and his needs are satisfied.

  It’s only a matter of time.

  NINE

  The next morning Bernie and I got to the station early. I’d spent a restless night before finally giving up on sleep early in the morning and taking a long, hot shower. We passed my former partner, Harvey Gluck, and his new partner, Jessica Barlow, in the parking lot. They’d both made false accusations recently that I’d made harassing comments to Jessica, before Harvey had come to his senses and withdrawn the complaint. I’d heard that he and Jessica weren’t getting along now but didn’t know all the details.

  “I heard that you and Grady caught that strangler case,” Jessica said, blocking my path.

  I glanced over at Harvey who lowered his eyes, maybe out of embarrassment over his former claim against me.

  “We’re just beginning to work the case,” I said, looking back at Jessica. I tried to move around her. “Excuse me.”

  She stood her ground. “I don’t think you can handle it.”

  I stopped and met her beady blue eyes. “What are you trying to say?”

  “A big case like that, I’ll bet it blows up in your face. The press is already all over it.”

  I finally managed to work my way past her, tugging on Bernie’s leash. “I feel sorry for you,” I said to Harvey as we passed.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Jessica growled.

  I turned back to her, then lowered my eyes indicating my canine partner. “I’m lucky, I get to work with a trained partner. Harvey has to work with a whiny little poodle.”

  I walked away as Jessica let loose with a string of obscenities and threatened to file yet another complaint with the lieutenant.

  Ted was already pushing paperwork around as I set my briefcase on my desk. I then heard Selfie’s voice behind me. “GP wants us in his office now.”

  I started to ask her what she meant, then realized GP was the Great and Powerful, as in Lieutenant Oz. As Ted and I followed Selfie with Bernie in tow we passed Christine Belmont and Alex Hardy. The two detectives were laughing about something with another officer but they all stopped talking when they saw me.

  “Why don’t you put the bloodhound on your case,” Hardy said from behind my back.

  “That’s a great idea,” Christine Belmont added. “Maybe you should put him in a beekeeper’s outfit, look for wasps.”

  A spasm of laughter followed before I stopped and turned to them. “Sorry, but Bernie hasn’t been up to par since he started working with you two. I think it’s because a couple of rats have interfered with his sense of smell.”

  I closed the door to Oz’s office, drowning out a chorus of obscenities.

  Oz chuckled as I settled Bernie in a corner and found a chair next to Molly Wingate. “Sounds like you’ve got your own rooting section out there.”

  I met the elderly lieutenant’s lively blue eyes. “Yes, in fact that’s the second Bronx cheer I’ve already received this morning.” I then told him about Jessica.

  Oz and the others laughed. The lieutenant then took a moment and mentioned a dispute he’d had as a young cop with an arrogant partner. “The guy slipped on some dog shit in a suspect’s yard one day and cracked his head wide open on the sidewalk. He was pronounced DOA at the hospital.”

  I gave Bernie a conspiratorial glance and then looked back at Oz. “Just for the record, if my coworkers break something and there’s evidence left at the scene Bernie and I had nothing to do with it.”

  We then got down to business, as Ted and I summarized the autopsy results. I then mentioned that Brie had called me earlier and confirmed that Jenna Collins’s death was asphyxiation due to multiple insect stings.

  We went on to tell Oz what we’d learned from Dr. Barden Jernigan. After we discussed the life-cycle of the giant insect that used a live host for food as part of its reproductive process, the room fell quiet.

  Selfie finally broke the silence. “All I know is that it’s just about the creepiest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” She looked at Ted and me. “The bug doctor also said something about our victim being a host. Maybe in some sick, perverse way our suspect was using her to make a point.”

  I decided to give voice to what had come to mind when we were at the crime scene. “I think what he’s doing forms part of his signature, along with the way the victim was posed. She was also wearing what was probably intended to be a wedding band and was violated. I think this crime has something to do with the innocence of the girl. I’m just not at all sure how the spider-wasp fits into that scenario.”

  “What did the girl’s mother have to say?” Oz asked, moving the discussion in another direction.

  We filled him in on yesterday’s meeting with Erin Collins and her preacher boyfriend. I then said, “Ted and I got a bad vibe off the boyfriend.” I turned to Selfie. “Did you get a chance to run a record check on Joshua Graham?”

  Selfie nodded. “Molly’s got the criminal stuff. I did some Internet checks. He’s basically a small time pastor who followed in the footsteps of his father. He takes a bunch of kids to a retreat up in the mountains at Lake Arrowhead every year. My guess is that’s where he met Jenna Collins and her mother.”

  “His rap sheet’s nothing major,” Molly said. Our secretary wore a green sweater that complimented her red hair and made me think of Christmas, even though we were more than a week past the holiday. “Graham’s got a couple of petty thefts and a DUI, going back to the early 2000’s. Nothing since.”

  “So much for thou shalt not steal,” Ted said. He then added, “We also checked with the victim’s best friend, Susie Mondale, who she’d been texting on a regular basis before she went missing. She basically said that Jenna was a true friend who wasn’t having any problems with anyone that she knew about, including her mother’s boyfriend.”

  “Graham’s been the pastor at the West Fellowship Congregation in Seal Beach for the past two years,” Selfie added. “I called over there yesterday afternoon and spoke to a secretary, pretending like I was thinking about attending their church. We chatted for a few minutes and she used words like intense and driven to describe their pastor. I got the impression they might be code words for asshole and jerk, but maybe that’s just my take on things.”

  “I think you wouldn’t be too far off the mark,” I said. “But that doesn’t necessarily make him a killer.”

  “Let’s keep him in mind,” Oz said. “What else?”

  “I entered our victim information into VICAP yesterday,” Selfie said. “So far, nothing looks like a match.”

  A
fter Ted went over a few more findings for Oz, I summarized what we knew about our case. “So, our vic was sexually assaulted and posed. The cause of death was airway constriction, because of the wasp stings. She was also washed with a disinfectant soap, commonly used by morticians, and then sprayed with an insecticide.”

  “He obviously didn’t want any insects at the death scene, except for the ones he planted,” Ted told the lieutenant.

  I turned to Selfie and Molly. “Anything look promising on the record checks on local funeral workers, morticians?”

  Molly had a paper in front of her. “We’ve got a couple of hits in the system for misdemeanor offenses on a couple of morticians. I’ll let you and Ted take a look at what we found but it doesn’t seem very promising. I also did some checking on orders for sodium hypochlorite, the germicide that was used to wash the body, but didn’t come up with anything worthwhile.”

  “There was a guy who used to work at the Douglas Adams Funeral Home over in Culver City,” Selfie said, going back to the list of local morticians. “One of his assistants caught him in the act of having sex with a corpse. The guy had no prior record or anything since, so, other than him being a first class pervert, it’s probably not relevant to our case.”

  “Remind me to be cremated,” Molly said.

  “What about foreign object cases?” Oz asked. “Even though our case involved a foreign object in the victim’s mouth, I think we need to cover that base. Anything that’s remotely similar to our crime in the databases?”

  The lieutenant was talking about rape with a foreign object. In the state of California it was a felony to use a foreign object, anything from a finger to a physical object, without consent, on another human being.

  “Molly and I are still looking at the 289 PC convictions,” Selfie said, referencing the penal code section for rape with a foreign object. “The problem is, there’s nothing in the system that’s specific to the types of physical objects used in the commission of the crimes.”