Hollywood Intrigue: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 9

  Horton and I were waiting for Ted’s signal that the apartment was clear when we heard an engine revving down the alleyway. We saw that an older model Chevy truck was headed in our direction. We had our weapons drawn as the truck accelerated faster before a shadowy figure leapt from the balcony into the back of the truck.

  “He’s trying to run us down,” I yelled, at the same time we both fired in the direction of the accelerating truck. “Into the stairway,” I screamed as the truck barreled down on us.

  I managed to yank Bernie with me into the stairway landing as Woody Horton fell on top of us at the same time the truck roared past. By the time we were back on our feet, the truck had turned up the street and was disappearing into traffic.

  “Let’s call it in,” I said to Woody.

  Even as I’d said the words, I knew it was too late. William Monroe had gained his freedom. I thought about the offender’s past victim and then Jenna Collins. I then said a silent prayer for Lori March, the girl he was probably now holding hostage.

  FOURTEEN

  We spent the rest of the night processing the shooting scene and searching the apartment shared by William Monroe and his cousin, George Mason. Woody Horton had some expertise when it came to computers and managed to get into a laptop we found in Monroe’s bedroom. There was a lot of porn on the parolee’s computer, including kiddy porn.

  Woody then searched the browsing history and my spirits sank. Monroe had mapped the address where Lori March lived in Venice. We now had no doubt that he’d taken the girl.

  “Let’s make sure the BOLO is out for both Monroe and Mason,” I said to the others. “Let’s also put some people on the bar where Mason works. If the girl is still alive, the clock is ticking.”

  “I’ve got something,” Harry Braden said, coming over to us from Monroe’s closet. He showed us some paperwork. “Our suspect has a storage locker over in Torrance.”

  ***

  William Monroe’s conditions of parole allowed us to search all of his property, so we used that as a basis to search his storage locker. It was almost midnight by the time the on-site manager led us to a garage-sized locker at the back of the storage facility in Torrance. We’d sent Horton and Braden to talk to our suspect’s mother, who we learned lived a few blocks over from the storage facility.

  “The guy comes by here all the time,” the manager said to Ted about Monroe as he cut the combination lock. “I always thought there was something off about him.”

  The door swung up on its hinges and a dim automatic light lit up the interior of the locker. Ted told the manager to wait outside as we pushed past him with Bernie. The front of the storage locker was stacked high with boxes and plastic storage crates. When we got to the back of the building we saw there was a long work bench with cupboards and shelving attached. Newspapers were stacked on the bench along with several empty glass jars, some rope, and plastic twist ties.

  “I’ve gotta feeling this is where he makes his preparations,” Ted said.

  I opened a cupboard next to the workbench and shined a light on some on the shelves. I immediately heard a now familiar buzzing sound. “You would be right about that.” I removed a couple of the jars and set them on the bench. “It looks like the same kind of wasp we found in our victim.”

  Ted’s phone was chirping and he stepped away to answer it. I took the time to look through a couple of the boxes that were stacked almost to the ceiling. Despite terms of parole and felony convictions that didn’t allow him to possess a weapon, it looked like Monroe had a fondness for firearms, everything from small caliber handguns to a couple of assault rifles.

  Ted ended his call and came over to me. “That was Woody. Monroe’s mother said the family owns a cabin in the woods above Frazier Park. She said Billy liked to go there as a kid when he was in trouble.”

  I motioned to the weapons. “If Billy is there, my guess is that he’s got enough weapons to start a war.”

  FIFTEEN

  The sense of exhilaration that’s been building all day is now consuming William Monroe as he returns to the cabin with the supplies he’s bought for the next few days. After putting the groceries in the kitchen, he strips off all his clothing. His naked body glimmers in the dancing light from the roaring fireplace.

  Monroe glances down, seeing the spider tattoo on his abdomen. It seems to pulse in the flickering flames as though it’s alive. It only adds to his excitement about being with the girl.

  As the flames roar, Monroe feels himself changing. This is the moment he’s waited almost nine years for, that moment when he can feel his power surfacing. It’s the same power he felt years ago when he took the other girls. Monroe strokes himself, imagining what will follow, feeling the heat of carnal desire surging through his body.

  “I’m coming for you, Lori,” he says, the flames shining in his dark eyes as he glances over to the basement door. “Tonight is just for us.”

  His excitement is so intense now that he can barely contain himself. He moves into the kitchen and rummages through the drawers. He selects three knives, examining the edges for sharpness. Only the best will do for what is to follow.

  Monroe wraps the instruments he’s chosen in a small towel and moves toward the basement door. Earlier, when he’d gotten some firewood to warm the cabin, he saw the blanket of snow covering the ground and just a sliver of a moon rising over the mountain top. The images of the area wash through his mind again, reminding him of the first time he’d taken someone’s life.

  It was just before his junior year in high school. His parents had come to the cabin for summer vacation. The girl, the one he’d chosen, was new to the area. She was quiet and shy, so he took his time getting to know her. After several tries, she finally agreed to go to the lake with him one night. She even let him take her hand as they’d walked along the shore.

  They’d chatted about the mountains and the lake, and the town that the girl had left behind. She’d mentioned that she was lonely and missed her friends. That’s when he decided to end her loneliness.

  “Have you ever done it before?” he remembers asking her.

  The girl was obviously shocked by the question but managed to shake her head and whisper, “No.”

  He had stopped, turned to her, and began stroking her brown hair. “I have,” he lied. “It can make you feel very special.” He’d leaned in and kissed the girl.

  “I’m sorry,” she’d said, pulling back. “I’m not…”

  The blow that had come crashing down, knocking the girl into unconsciousness, was followed by several others. When he finally regained some control, he took her to a cabin that he’d broken into earlier. He’d spent hours with her, before finally giving into her pleas for mercy and ending her life. Her body had been dumped in the lake. When she’d eventually been found, no one suspected that the quiet boy who’d spent summers in the area with his family had murdered her.

  The images now seem like a lifetime ago. Tonight will be different. William Monroe would show no mercy. He’s waited too many years for this moment.

  As he’s about to head for the basement, his phone rings. He immediately recognizes the caller’s voice.

  “THE GIRL IS MINE,” Monroe screams into the phone, defying the caller. He’s on fire with rage as he paces back and forth in front of the basement door.

  “You broke our agreement,” a man’s voice says. “You were an apprentice, chosen to do a job. Taking another girl now without my direction is unacceptable.”

  “She belongs to me…” Monroe breaks into laughter. “Until she’s dead.”

  “Listen to me.” The caller’s voice is even, controlled. “You have only one option now. The police will be coming.”

  There’s more laughter. Monroe knows this game. He’s played it in prison a few times. It’s like poker, only the stakes here are much higher.

  “I know who you are,” the parolee spits into the phone. “You’re the one who will pay the price, not me. I won’t be your…” He takes a brea
th, trying to calm himself. “I’m not like the others you’ve used in your crazy games...”

  “Check the basement,” the caller says. “I’ll wait.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You need to go check on the girl.”

  Monroe pushes the door to the basement open and flips on the light. He listens but hears nothing from the darkened room below.

  “She’s waiting for you,” the caller says.

  Monroe cautiously moves down the stairway. When he’s near the bottom landing he hears the sound. It’s a familiar soft buzzing sound that grows louder with each step he takes.

  “What have you done?” Monroe demands.

  There’s a sudden sound behind him as the basement door slams shut. Monroe rushes back up the stairway but finds the deadbolt locked. He knows he’s trapped, with no way out.

  “What’s going on?” Monroe demands, peering back down the stairway.

  “Why don’t you check on the girl, see for yourself,” the caller says. “She’s waiting for you.”

  After a few moments, Monroe decides there’s no other choice than to move back down the stairway. When he’s at the bottom landing, the familiar buzzing sound returns. When he turns the corner, seeing the swarm of insects covering the girl, he realizes it’s too late.

  As the giant stinging wasps fill the air and then descend upon him, Monroe’s screams fill the air. Something he once read in the Bible about a swarm of locusts that have been sent as a plague to descend upon the world fills his mind.

  And then William Monroe has one final thought: the gates of hell have been opened.

  SIXTEEN

  Frazier Park was a small mountain community located just off Interstate 5, about an hour north of Los Angeles. The area, almost a mile above sea level, was a popular destination for city-dwellers who sometimes jammed the area to play in the snow.

  As Ted drove our four-wheel drive SUV down a country road, followed by Horton and Braden, it looked like there was about a foot of the white stuff on the ground from the last storm. It was a couple of hours before dawn and the area was deserted.

  We’d had an on-call judge issue a warrant for the cabin earlier that night. The dilapidated wooden structure, owned by the Monroe family, was near a small lake that was partially frozen over. As we pulled off the road and met up with a couple of local sheriff’s units, Bernie’s ears pointed straight up and he started to whine, maybe sensing what was about to happen.

  After introducing ourselves to the local cops, Ted discussed how we wanted to proceed. “I want three bodies on the back door, while the rest of us go in through the front on my count.” He turned to the two uniformed cops. “Our suspect is wanted for murder and kidnapping, and we found a small arsenal of weapons in his storage locker. We need to expect resistance.”

  After a little more discussion about tactics, we made our way through the snow to the cabin. I waited near the front door with Ted and Woody while the others went around back. When everyone was in place, Ted gave the go signal.

  We found the cabin unlocked and empty, but there were bags of groceries in the kitchen and a fire roaring in the fireplace. After we’d cleared the three rooms, we met up in the living room.

  “Doesn’t add up,” Ted said. “He’s got to be…”

  “Over here,” we heard Harry Braden calling out to us. “There’s a basement and the door’s locked from this side.”

  Ted and I came over with Bernie as he continued to whine. “I got a bad feeling but I guess somebody needs to check,” Ted said to me.

  I motioned to the door. “Let’s take it slow.”

  Ted had the others stand back as he unlocked the door and pushed it open a couple of inches. He announced himself several times but got no response. He then began making his way down the cramped wooden stairway.

  The ceiling lowered and Ted bumped his head. “Damn, he said, stooping down as the beam from his small Maglite illuminated the basement floor.

  A cold dampness seeped into my bones from below as I followed behind him with Bernie. Down below I could see part of the cabin’s crumbling rock foundation and earthen floor. There was an old mattress in a corner. Then I heard the sound. It was the same sound that was now forever carved into my consciousness.

  The stairway turned and we got a brief glimpse of the two dead bodies being swarmed by insects.

  “Jesus,” Ted said, realizing what we were seeing.

  “Wasps,” I said, stumbling and scrambling back up the stairway with Bernie.

  Ted followed behind as we made our way back into the cabin at the same time several wasps flew past us, buzzing through the air. One of the insects managed to sting one of the local cops before he killed it. We managed to elude and kill a couple of others, before finally regaining control of the situation.

  “What now?” Ted asked me, breathing heavily.

  I put my gun away and caught a breath. “I guess we call an exterminator and then find out who murdered our killer.”

  SEVENTEEN

  It was nearly dawn by the time I finally dragged myself home and fell into bed. We’d found a pest control company that had gone into Monroe’s cabin wearing protective gear. They’d managed to kill what they determined were hundreds of the giant wasps, known as the marimbondo. The body of William Monroe was in a corner of the basement where it looked like he’d tried to cover himself with a blanket to avoid the stings.

  Lori March, his kidnap victim, was also found in the basement. She’d been tied to a chair and had suffered the same fate as her captor, with hundreds of wasp stings on her naked body. I wasn’t sure if her death was preferable to the one that Monroe probably had in mind for her. Either way, it was a horrific ending to a beautiful young life.

  We had positive evidence linking Monroe to the kidnap of Lori March based upon fingerprints found in her bedroom. We still thought that the parolee had been involved in the murder of Jenna Collins, but we now wondered if he’d acted in concert with someone who had turned on him during the March kidnapping. All we knew for sure was that someone had locked him in the basement with his victim and released the wasps that killed them both.

  We’d also found a cell phone in the basement of the cabin. It was a burner—a throwaway phone. Monroe had made and received several calls on the phone, including one that was received shortly before we made entry into the cabin. That call had been traced to another burner phone, so we weren’t hopeful about finding out who had initiated the call.

  A medical examiner and CSI unit with the Kern County Sheriff’s Department had taken control of the crime scene. They planned to autopsy the bodies later in the day and promised to rush the results to Ted and me.

  I woke up from a fitful sleep around seven that evening to the sound of someone knocking on my door. I found Natalie and Mo standing there, dressed in their black leather PI outfits, along with my sister, Lindsay.

  “Just wondering if you survived,” Mo said. “We heard on the news what happened up in the mountains and that it might be linked to the Stone Canyon Killer.”

  “Mo and me also got us some 411 on the killer, if you wanna hear it,” Natalie said. Bernie did a frisky dance and tail wag when he saw her, his usual way of greeting my beautiful friend.

  “Give me a minute to get my act together and I’ll come over,” I said. I then turned to Lindsay who thankfully wasn’t dressed like some badass private detective. “How are you doing, hon?”

  Lindsay took a step closer to me. “I’m good. I’ve also got some news, if you’ve got a second.”

  I realized that Lindsay wanted to talk to me privately and had her stay behind after my friends left. I went into the bedroom, threw on some sweatpants and a sweater, brushed my teeth, and then met my sister in the living room.

  “I understand Natalie and Mo are now working with you and Jimmy Sweets,” I said after taking a seat across from her.

  “I quit.”

  “What? Is it because of my friends?”

  She g
iggled. “No. Natalie and Mo are lots of fun, but I’ve been thinking the PI business isn’t for me for a while now. I’m going to Boston for a few weeks to spend some time with a girlfriend I met in school.” She sighed. “I think I need to get away, see some new surroundings.”

  I knew that Lindsay was still in counseling regarding her father molesting her and wondered if that was part of the reason she was leaving. I asked her as much, adding, “I think you’ve made great progress. I just hope you continue your therapy.”

  “I’ll probably just be gone for a few weeks and then pick up with Dr. Chang again when I return.” She reached over, taking my hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not going off the deep end or hiding out from my problems.”

  I squeezed her hand and then reached over and hugged her. “Just remember, I’m here if you need anything.”

  She found my eyes again as I moved back. “It’s kind of nice having a big sister to look out for me.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Lindsay and I chatted for a few minutes more before she told me that she had to pack because her plane was leaving later that night. We said our goodbyes. I then met up with Natalie and Mo in their apartment.

  Mo poured us all a glass of wine and said, “I think your sis is making a good decision, getting out of town for a while. I don’t think she’s cut out to be a private dick.”

  “Not many people are,” I agreed.

  “Mo and me would be the exceptions,” Natalie said, running a hand seductively over her tight black turtleneck. “We got us a sixth sense, kinda like a dog’s nose.” She glanced at Bernie who was resting at my feet but was keeping one eye on her. “We’re kind of like a couple of French Poodles that can pick up eau de scumbag from a mile away.”

  “Baby sis might think she’s a poodle, but I got higher standards,” Mo said. “I like to think of my olfactory skills as being on a par with a bloodhound.”

  I sipped my wine and set the glass down. “So tell me what you two snoop dogs sniffed out about my case.”