Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

Half an hour after I left my mom and brother, Bernie and I were waved through the security gates at Karma’s estate.
I parked, noticing there were a couple of police cruisers in the lot, probably there to assist with security.

Holmby Hills was home to almost as many stars as Hollywood. Karma’s
rambling Tudor estate, called Serene, a reference to her first hit song, was, of course, green. Even though I knew I’d be going to the singer’s estate, I’d taken a silent vow never to wear her so-called power color again. I was dressed in a pair of black Anne Klein pants, a blue blazer, and Jimmy Choo flats, your basic homicide cop outfit.

I was surprised to see Natalie and
Mo as I walked up the driveway. They were wearing green shirts that said, “security,” in bold lettering. A utility belt with handcuffs, a flashlight, several keys, and what I assumed was pepper spray, completed their ensembles. Thankfully, I didn’t see any guns.

“You guys didn’t waste any time starting to work,” I said.

“Need to check your identification,” Mo said, using what I assumed was her deep, bodyguard voice. She leaned in closer to me and motioned to a muscular man standing near a guard shack. He had a shaved head and a thick handlebar moustache. “Sorry, just following orders from the head of security.”

I handed over my wallet badge as
Natalie said to me, “His name’s Earl Conners. He thinks Mo’s milkers are the berries.”

Mo finished with my badge, handed it back, and deadpanned, “He’s just a victim of breastnosis—a little dumbstruck by the girls.”

I smiled. “I always say, use whatever tools are in the garage.”

W
e walked up the pathway toward the house and Natalie introduced me to Earl. The security chief fumbled with some paperwork, before handing it over to me. “This is the protocol for permission to be on the grounds. You need read it and sign at the bottom.”

I saw that his eyes wandered over to Mo as I took the paperwork from him. He really did seem to have an unnatural attraction to
her enormous breasts.

After a moment, Earl finally regained enough of his senses to add, “No deviation from any of the rules is permitted.”

I reviewed the paperwork, which appeared to be a list of dos and don’ts. I then saw the wording at the bottom of the list, indicating that the grounds were patrolled by armed guards, 24-7.

“What happens if someone tries to breach the perimeter of the
grounds?” I asked.

It appeared to take all of Earl’s considerable strength to pull his eyes away from Mo again. “We respond and use deadly force, if necessary.”

I gave him back the paperwork and thanked him. The three of us, along with Bernie, left him behind, walking on toward the house.

“I think Earl’s on the juice,” Mo said when we were out of earshot. “Saw him get crazy angry this morning at one of the landscapers for no reason.”

I’d noticed that Earl Conners was so muscle-bound he had trouble walking normally. His anger could be related to the use of steroids.

Natalie giggled and said, “You know what they say the juice does to the goose. Betcha Earl’s carrying around a limp Tootsie Roll.”

We shared a moment of laughter before I huddled with them. “Can you two do me a favor and let me know about anyone who might pose a danger to Karma? And, please be careful. Until we solve this case, I don’t think anyone’s safe.”

“Not to worry,” Natalie said, motioning to Mo. “Never underestimate the power of nipples.”

I said goodbye to my friends and met up with Charlie and Pearl near the residence.

“We just got word
Karma’s limousine is about a block away,” Charlie said.

As we waited for the gates to open, Pearl said, “Saw you on TV. Nice work with the press. Maybe they’ll give you the captain’s pay.”

“Yeah, he screws up the investigation and I take the heat. Given my history, I’m sure the brass will have a little something extra for me before all this is over, but it won’t be in the form of a paycheck.”

Vee, Karma’s FFF, came running out of the
house as the superstar’s limo drove through the gates. She had on a short neon green skirt, a red blouse, and yellow stiletto heels. I wasn’t sure if the FFF was colorblind or planning on auditioning for a circus. She’d been crying and her mascara had run down her cheeks.

Vee rushed to the limo and hugged Karma as the driver helped the singer exit.
An attractive, well-dressed blonde woman also stepped out of the car.

“Karma will be in seclusion,” Vee said as they moved past us toward the residence. “There will be no interviews or discussion until she spends a proper amount of time in mourning.”

Seclusion. Why is it that only the rich and famous get to go into seclusion? And what in the hell do you do when you’re in seclusion? Bernie and I blocked their path.

“Not acceptable,” I said.

Karma looked up at me, tugging at the sash on her green chiffon robe. Her face was red and puffy. “Please give me some time to be alone. I can’t believe what’s happened.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, this will only take a few minutes. We need to find
whoever’s responsible for what’s been happening and put an end to it. You owe that much to Trevon.”

Karma
looked over at Vee, then back at me. Her eyes lowered and she nodded. “Can I have Vee and Barbara with me while we talk?”

“Of course.”

I had no idea who Barbara was until I was introduced to the blonde who’d been in the limo. She was the singer’s business manager, from what I got out of Vee.

A handsome man in his mid-thirties who looked like he could be in the movies came out of the residence before we entered. We
learned he was Dr. Adam Shaw, Karma’s personal physician. He spoke to the singer for a moment and gave her something in a small envelope before leaving. It was probably zanies. Half of Hollywood was addicted to the tranquilizer.

As we entered the residence, I realized that Karma’s FFF was not happy with me. She pushed the front door open, slamming it against the wall.

Once we’d all gathered around a table in the dining parlor with a magnificent view of the city, Vee began stomping around the adjacent kitchen. When I started to ask Karma a question, she dropped a pan on the kitchen floor, banging it on the tile several times. It was enough to cause Bernie to growl.

I gave Bernie the German command,
nein
, which means, no chewing up the FFF. I left the parlor and confronted Vee in the kitchen. With her ruined mascara and ridiculous outfit, she was definitely circus clown material.

“I’m only going to say this once, Vee. Make another disturbance, throw another fit, act like a spoiled two-year-old again, and I will have you put in jail.”

“For what?”

“For impeding a murder investigation.”

She looked at me, tears streaming down her messy defiant face.

Barbara, the business manager, came over to us. She hugged the FFF and said, “Please Vee. Let K
arma talk to the detectives, then we can mourn.”

The scary clown face with the green dots tattooed over her
eyebrow, a look perfect for Halloween, turned in my direction. “Sorry. I’ll behave.”

I nodded. “Do yourself and everyone else a favor. Go into the bathroom and wash your face.”

I thanked Barbara and walked back over to Karma after Vee disappeared down the hall. I took a seat, noticing a man coming through the front door. The singer rose and hugged him.

“The Dawg’s manager, Harley Porter,” Charlie explained.

“I stopped by Trevon’s estate and heard what happened,” Porter said, after introductions. He paused, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s a terrible tragedy. I’d like to stay and help out in any way I can.”

“Not a problem,” I said. “You were next on our list, anyway.”

Porter was African-American, short, bald, overweight, and Botoxed. His forehead was as smooth and tight as a baby’s butt, unlike the rest of his face. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tried to move in on Karma, take over as her manager, after the death of her agent and his own superstar client.

We began the questioning with Karma
. She told us that she’d rescheduled her rehearsal last night and gone home right after my mother’s séance. Porter offered up that he’d last seen Trevon Jackson three days earlier at a business meeting in his office.

I then let Charlie and Pearl take over the questioning. Charlie began by asking Karma how her r
elationship with Jackson began.

“We met when Trevon was a back-up dancer at a club in Newark,” Karma said through her tears. “I liked the way he danced and asked him to go on tour with me. That eventually led to Trevon working with my music producer and cutting his own album.” The singer stopped and blew her nose. “‘Kiss Me, Miss Me.’ It was LD’s
…Trevon’s, first hit, as everyone knows.”

Charlie looked at me and shrugged.

Pearl spoke up. “Let’s talk about last night for just a moment.” The elderly detective had a smooth, pleasant voice that encouraged people to disclose information that other cops probably never got. “From what I understand, you arranged for the séance because you weren’t sure about Trevon’s fidelity. Can you tell us what you suspected?”

Karma wiped the tears from her green eyes. “I had no doubt that he was cheating. I really don’t know why I agreed to the séance. Everyone knew there were girls, lots of girls
, around him.”

“You said you agreed to the séance,” Pearl said. “Was it someone else’s idea?”

“It was mine,” Vee said, returning to the family room. She’d wiped some of the mascara from her face. “I knew he was cheating. I thought the séance might give Karma some closure. I wish I’d never arranged it.”

Porter spoke up. “You should probably know, Detective, that Trevon was…” He paused, cleared his throat. “He was very active with the ladies.” His
gaze drifted over to Karma. “I have no doubt that Trevon loved you, but we both know he just wasn’t able to resist certain temptations.”

Karma sniffed.
“Yeah, especially those with fangs.”

It was the first time I’d seen the superstar display any anger. It was a positive sign. While I understood her sorrow over what had happened, she’d been disrespecte
d and used by the man she planned to marry.

Ch
arlie chimed in. “Fangs. Somebody wanna explain that?”

Karma looked at Porter. “You want to tell them or should I?”

“There was a woman,” Porter began. “She went by the name Myra. She’d been hanging around Trevon for the past several weeks. He thought she was some kind of vampire freak and, at first, didn’t want anything to do with her.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by that?” Charlie said.

“Myra was into a goth or vampire-type look,” Porter explained. “She always wore black, had lots of makeup and piercings. She even had her teeth filed into fangs. She wore these crazy clothes, black leather with lots of netting and cutout material—the kind of clothes that helped show off her considerable assets, if you know what I mean. She eventually wore Trevon down.”

“I’m sure that took a lot of work,” Karma said, tossing a tissue onto the table. Maybe she was declaring an offi
cial end to her mourning period. Chandra Martin’s similar choice of attire crossed my mind, but the look Porter had described wasn’t that unusual, especially in Hollywood.

Porter went on, “Trevon eventually let
Myra dance in one of his videos. He thought it might satisfy her and she’d go away. It didn’t. She kept hanging around until he finally banned her from his estate and all of his performances.”

“Did you ever meet
Myra?” Pearl asked Karma.

“Trevon brought her to a party once
. That was before I knew…I could tell right away there was something going on. She was all over him. I told him never to bring her back here.”

“I also talked to her the night of the party,” Vee offered. “She was a real freak. Very scary.”

“Can you give us a description of her?” I asked, directing the question to all three of them.

I got back: “A little above average height, dark, strangely beautiful, exotic,” and Karma added, “A slut.” Good for you, superstar!

Porter added another element. “She was…I’m not sure how to put this delicately. Her outfits showed a lot of skin. Her body was…” He took a breath. “Something men would desire.”

I got the picture, a hot, dark, vampire slut. It met the description of half the women in Hollywood. Maybe she lived
next to the prince of darkness. Maybe they both worked for a law firm.

“What about the video
Myra was in?” I asked. “Does anyone have a copy?”

“It’s on YouTube,” Porter said. “It’s called,
Sex Down
.”

Vee got her iPad while Karma went into the kitchen. We watched as Love Dawg sang and danced, and Porter pointed out
Myra in the background. “It’s kind of hard to see what she looks like.”