Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (15 page)

“I’ve seen enough. What do you want?”

“I’m glad you are a straight to the point kind of guy, Senator. I’m running late for a dinner date, and I’d like to wrap this up rather quickly.”

“I asked, what is it you want?” Senator Masters coldly asked once again.

“Your assurance that you will see to it that your position on the Federal Transportation Committee fully supports Castle Industries bid for the high-speed rail stations to be built in California.

“And if I don’t?” Masters asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Well, let’s just say you will experience the end of the world … as you know it.”

Senator Rick Masters stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and stated, “Drop dead, you slimy, little piece of shit” then walked out of the room without so much as a glance in Clay’s direction.

“That one’s going to be a problem,” Clay smirked to himself.

Clay would deny any involvement except to have invited the senator and his son, as family friends, to a weekend event. One of the many they had attended since meeting at his parents well-known annual Emerald Ball earlier that year. His father was clearly not associated with the senator as he had only met him once that evening at the ball. The senator would have to implicate the congressman, who would deny it all, in order to conjure up any sort of worthy lie. That was highly unlikely.

Clay could not be touched; he was sure of it. He had made it so that any two people in the planning of the scheme did not know each other or his involvement in his scheme.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Everybody finds out

Walking back to his car, shaking and sweating with anxiety, Rocco jumped into his car, sat, and stared into blank space. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Who killed you, Dotty?” Was all he could muster. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Elsa.

“Listen, we’ve got to meet right now. Drop whatever you are doing and meet me at Schwab’s.”

“I can’t, I’m in the middle of tracking a wire transfer that went into Dotty’s account.”

“Trust me, what I have to tell you will be the most unbelievable thing you have ever heard in your life. Now get your ass over there pronto!” He was still in a state of shock as he drove to Schwab’s. Rocco debated for a second if it would be best to share this information with Elsa outside of Schwab’s, considering all that was going on.

“Maybe I should tell her inside the police car, just in case.” His thoughts moved to Dotty’s daughter, young Brit. How would he tell her? Surely this should benefit her in some way. “Is it possible that the Stanfords could be involved in her murder? Does the senior Stanford know about his lost sister?”

When Elsa arrived, he motioned for her to join him in his parked police car. Elsa jumped into the car and turned to Rocco.

“What’s so important that I couldn’t finish finding out who dropped 30 grand into Dotty’s account?”

“What I have to tell you is going to take this murder investigation where no murder investigation in Hollywood has ever gone before,” Rocco stoically told Elsa.

“Well, what is it? You look like you’ve just pissed in your pants or seen a ghost!”

“Dotty Henderson was … IS, the biological daughter of Clay and Gemma Stanford II!”

“Holy, Jesus, mighty God!”

“Confirmed!”

Elsa was speechless.

“I just spent the afternoon with a woman Dotty knew as her aunt. The old woman was in reality the midwife, black market baby provider extraordinaire, the one who delivered her, then handled her adoption. Secretly, for none other than Gemma Huntington Stanford. I’ve seen the documents that prove it.”

“But why did Gemma give the baby up?”

“That the old lady wasn’t sure of. She suspected it was because of an affair with another man. Her black chauffeur. Only, the baby was not his, obviously. It was her husband’s, Clay.”

“This is big, Rocco! I mean really big! We’ve got to figure out how to handle this. We gotta move fast before someone else gets a hold of this.”

“Don’t I know it, partner.”

“By the way, that shit, Jacques, sold his story about the fight between Vivien and Dotty to the rags!”

“Ya know, he’s still very much on my short list of suspects. Maybe you ought to give him some advice about keeping that fat trap of his shut before he moves up a few more notches. I mean it, Els!”

“On it. Shall we powwow with the captain tonight? He’ll want a press conference tomorrow. How do we handle the Stanfords and the news?”

* * *

Detective Rocco Goldman was nervous. He knew that he had stumbled onto something that was about to change his life and career forever. He just needed to make sure he did it right. Every step he made from this point on would be scrutinized in detail. He also knew this was going to scare the shit out of his captain.

He and Elsa had been up all night reviewing evidence, motives, and suspects. What they were about to present to the captain could either blow the case wide open or cost him a promotion.

“So, what the hell do you have to tell me amidst this goddamn soap opera of a murder that is such an emergency? I hope to hell it is worth calling me away from those peoples’’ homes that are sliding down the Hollywood Hills in this rain.”

“I believe it is. In fact, sir, this is just not to be believed.”

“Who’s your suspect? The husband, boyfriend, a goddamn movie star?”

“Clay Stanford III!”

“Are you fucking out of your mind! This better be good, ‘cause it is not what I wanted to hear.”

“I know, Captain, but let me explain. I didn’t want to believe it either. For Christ sake, the Stanfords are the last people on earth I would want to fuck with. This is what we have.”

Rocco proceeded to tell his story about the old lady, while backing it with a subpoena if needed. With that he slapped the file down on the captain’s desk and gave him a step by step run down.

“We think Clay may have found out that Dotty was related and might have some kind of claim to that enormous fortune, of which he just happens to be sole heir.” He told the captain about how the stranger at Schwab’s turned out to be a PI/lawyer hired by Clay III. The old lady confirmed that the PI had paid her a visit as well. “We believe he may have killed her because of her true identity. We don’t believe Dotty had a clue about any of it. If she had, she wouldn’t have been stealing and selling gossip to the tabloids.” Rocco finished his hard sell to the captain.

“There’s a lot we can learn from Mr. Clay III. Looking on the bright side, he might be able to clear this up. I’ll make the call to Mr. Stanford,” the captain replied.

Rocco was relieved. The captain seemed to have agreed with his assessment.

“Mr. Stanford, very sorry to bother you. We would not have disturbed you and your family had your son not hired the private investigator seeking information on Mrs. Henderson.”

“Well, Captain, I have no issues with your detectives asking my son a few questions. I may, however, be able to help in clearing up some of it. You see, my father’s estate carries with it a stipulation that requires his descendants to maintain an ongoing search for a mythical sibling of mine that no one has ever proven even existed. I won’t bore you with the private details of why they supposedly went missing. It was a very long time ago, and my father could be rather eccentric at times. In fact, I have had my own private investigator from time to time, even outside of the estates requirements. You might say, it’s the occasional sentimentally of losing my family when I was young. Normally, the executor of the estate handles it. This is important for a number of reasons. If there is a sister of mine in existence, and she or her heirs are ever located, she or they would be entitled to half of my estate. Or, should I say, my parents’ estate. I’m not sure why Clay zeroed in on Mrs.—what was her name again?”

“Mrs. Henderson,” the captain answered.

“Yes … Mrs. Henderson. I hadn’t been informed of any possible connection to her. Frankly, she sounds as if she would be the least likely person to end up as a lost Stanford. We never know though, do we, Captain? I trust that our conversation is strictly confidential.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Stanford,” the captain obliged.

“As for the other questions, you will have to address those with my son Clay. I’m sure he has a perfectly valid reason for doing what he did.”

Clay thought the police might come knocking on his door. Particularly after his PI was strong armed by the police into giving up his mission details. He was right.

His father informed him of the call and that he had had four family lawyers present for the lengthy conversation with the Hollywood Police Captain. The call included information about his father’s trust regarding a potentially lost family member. Montague was perplexed.

“Has Clay found something out and not shared it with me? But why?” Montague didn’t know whether to be disturbed, excited, or worried.

The captain rang Rocco on his cell. He and Elsa were on their way to revisit Jacques and Vivien when they pulled over to take the call. It’s a good thing they had.

“Just spoke to Mr. Stanford Sr., The father. He has no qualms about you speaking to his son, as long as he is accompanied by his lawyers that is. Notice I used plural. We had quite the conversation. He informed me of something that will definitely throw some gasoline on your fire. Apparently, he has a missing sister, or an unknown sister. A child that is referenced in his father’s estate. A codicil that ensures half of everything goes to this sister or brother should they ever be found.” The Captain stated.

“Wow! That’s sounds like quite the motive. Had he been able to confirm Dotty’s DNA he would have learned that she was the lost sister. Based on the family trust set up by the grandfather, Dotty was heir to billions. If Dotty is out of the way, I guess it all reverts back to Clay III.”

“Bingo … my boy!”

“Cap, this is just fucking incredible!” Rocco excitedly blurted out.

“Watch your fucking language when speaking to your superior, boy!”

“Yes sir.” They both had a little chuckle to relieve the unbelievable stress of the case.

“The clincher will be, did Clay III know that Dotty had been verified through her DNA as the missing heir?”

Rocco looked towards Elsa, who was trying to make out what the captain was saying by leaning over the cell phone near Rocco’s ear.”

He ended the call, then turned to Elsa.

“Dotty Henderson, tabloid hustling waitress from Schwab’s, was a goddamn heiress to a billion-dollar fortune and never knew it! Now if that is not jaw dropping!”

Elsa and Rocco had to find out if there was any connection between Clay and Dotty’s murder.

“In the meantime, I’m going to take a little trip to Palm Springs to meet Mr. Max Moriel, the actor,” Rocco told Elsa.

The drive through the desert allowed him to go over and debate all the angles and evidence he had accumulated so far. The subpoena of some of Dotty’s tabloid clients had helped with the number of potential suspects. Max Moriel had been one of them. “I guess Dotty was responsible for a lot of PR damage,” He thought about all of Dotty’s secrets that began to unfold during the investigation.

Upon arriving at his home, it was clear to Rocco that the former leading man had fallen on hard times from the look of the run-down, weather-beaten small cottage he now called home. The cottage was protected by a broken picket fence with peeling light gray paint that had started out as white.

“Thanks for meeting with me, Mr. Moriel.”

“Max, please.”

Rocco noticed the large bandage on Max’s right hand as he sat across from him. When Max saw him looking, he eased the injured had down to his side and out of sight.

“So, you used to know the victim?”

“Not well, I was a regular customer of her at Schwab’s for a while. My studio was just a few blocks from Sunset and Vine, and I liked the atmosphere. Can’t say I knew much about the waitress, Dotty.”

“Do you get up to Hollywood very often these days?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Hollywood left you with a bad taste did it?”

“To say the least.”

“I’m aware of what happened, Mr. Moriel. The leak to the tabloids about your private life. My question is, did you ever find out who divulged this information?”

“No, not that it would make any difference. Can I get you a coffee, detective?”

“Yes, that would be great, cream and one sugar. What do you mean?”

“I’ve read the papers about that horrible woman. I hardly think I was the only famous person she ratted out. Sounds to me there is an army of people who had good reason to permanently shut her trap. I wasn’t one of them.”

“Where were you in Hollywood on the date of the murder?” Rocco asked as he snatched a used band aid from the table with a baggie while the actor’s back was turned fixing coffee.

“No, I was here.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, I’m always alone these days.”

“Well, sir, thank you for your time. I will be in touch.”

“I’ll get a forensic test on the to see if we have a match with the killer’s blood,” thought the detective.

* * *

Brit had just finished rereading the current
MOUTH
magazine, which carried a picture of her father and his young girlfriend splashed across the front page headline, “$$$$WAS it for the money! … Secret girlfriend denies involvement in murder, hacked into victim’s email account!”

Brit was in tears, alone, grief stricken over the loss of her mother, and now this. She was having to constantly face the barrage of daily tabloid trash that made her life a living hell.

“I want to just leave here and never come back!” she said to herself through streaming tears.

“I just need to make it through this last class for graduation.”

She heard the keys in the door and rushed downstairs to confront her father.

“How could you do that to us! Mother loved you! She was devoted to you! I hate your guts!” was what stumbled out of her hysterical and sobbing mouth.

Ralph pleaded with her. He tried to tell her that it was the young woman that had pursued him, and that he loved his wife dearly.

“I am just as heartbroken,” he told her while sobbing just as much.

Poor Brit, she was yet to find out that her loving mother had been the first to betray her and Ralph. A betrayal that had started over 10 years ago.

“Everything seems like its crumbling around me. How could everything be so normal and wonderful one day and completely destroyed the next? This is by far the darkest hour of my life. I don’t know if I can handle anymore,” she sobbed into her pillow.

Sadly, she didn’t have long to wait to find out what was coming next. Brit woke the next morning to see the headlines of the
National Radar
, “Love Triangle at the HEART of Hollywood murder! … The boss, the waitress, and the vixen fiancée.” The story went into great detail about Dotty’s long-term affair of the flesh with her boss, Sam O’Brien.

The story was offering up it’s own theory that it may have been the boss’s fiancée who offed the sex-driven snooping waitress.

“
National Radar
’s sources are reporting that police have a witness to a heated and threatening fight that occurred between the victim, her ex-SEX partner, and his violent fiancée. It is being reported that the fiancée allegedly threaten to send her to the grave if she didn’t leave her future husband alone!”

The source turned out to be none other than Jacques. He figured out a way to extract his revenge on Dotty and make some cash the old Dotty way, sell his story to the tabloids. He’d pocketed a cool $12,000 for the inside information.