Sunset & Vine: Loose Lips (2 page)

Dotty was trapped with no escape, just like so many of the people whose lives she had ruined for selfish monetary gain in her devious, relentless pursuit of money.

A momentary ray of hope appeared when she remembered, “I’m sure Sam or Jacques will be here any minute now. All I have to do is keep talking, stall a little while longer until they get here.”

Once again turning to the Lord for something other than her usual prayer for more money, “I’m begging you, dear Lord, please give me one more chance. Just let them get here in time.”

“Aren’t you at least going to tell me who you are?” mustering to ask through her sniffling whimpers.

“That’s a good girl, you dragon-tongued bitch! Keep begging. I like hearing the sound of fear in your voice,” said the stranger.

“Oh, Dotty’s scared. It won’t do you any good! I want to see the pain and fear in your eyes while you suffer. In the same manner you caused so many of your victims to live through.”

Carefully eying the shadowy figure move into the kitchen, Dotty caught a glimpse of the huge, monstrous, shiny knife in the stranger’s hands. Backing herself further into the corner, she managed to squeeze in another inch. Just like a rat hiding from a big hungry alley cat in the dark. Dotty’s wailing only got worse as she tried to muffle her sounds by holding her hand over her nose and mouth out of fear of being heard. Her trembling was so bad she had to grab hold of the table’s cold steel leg to steady herself.

Keeping track of the time, the intruder moved quickly. Dotty had been stalked for the last month by the mysterious stranger and they knew exactly when the rest of the morning staff would be arriving. It wasn’t hard really. They had attached a SAT NAV device to her car and knew the exact moment she left her house for work every morning. Then, they discreetly monitored her from across the street as she entered Schwab’s … alone. Her stalker knew the earliest that either of the other two employees, Sam or Jacques, would arrive wasn’t until around 5:45 a.m., or later, allowing them plenty of time to dispatch their swift gift of murderous revenge.

Dotty wasn’t even sure if the intruder was a man or a woman. She couldn’t tell from the low whispering voice. The only thing she could make out was the trench coat, knit cap, and that terrifying long butcher knife in their hands.

With her eyes wide open and targeted in the direction of every sound or movement made in the darkness, her body’s million-year-old evolutionary human instincts were operating on full alert. She desperately tried to blend into the darkness and remain hidden, vowing to amend her ways if she made it out alive. Her mind was half stuck in the limbo of expecting the lights to come on at any moment, thus instantly giving her location away, and trying to comprehend if this nightmare would be her last.

“I never dreamed this much fear could be real,” she thought to herself. But it was real and she was living every second of it.

Closing her eyes and praying for forgiveness, “My sweet merciful God, please give me one more chance. I am begging for your atonement. I promise I will live by your word if you spare me from this.” Making promises to the Lord that she knew she was incapable of keeping. Her newly found religiosity had simply arrived too late.

A moment later, the dark room was quiet.

“Maybe they’ve left?” Hoping that some other-worldly miracle had driven whoever it was away. Confident, that her Lord savior had heard her prayers and kindly bestowed mercy upon her, Dotty opened her closed eyes in relief. It was at that frozen second in time that she saw the reflecting light from the street on the massive, long, shining steel blade in the shadowy dark and its life draining silver tip. At this very same moment the cold blade came thrusting down into her warm soft flesh. Dotty immediately thought about how time had slowed down as it was occurring, as if time had almost come to a halt.

The piercing, first stab seared through her body with the force of a falling piano onto her chest. It felt like the knife had been plunged all the way into her body, up to its handle. There was no more pondering or hope, she was going to die. Her life began to flash before her like pictures on a slide projector. Oddly enough, the first images were of the terrible tabloid headlines she had profited from:

“Starlet’s secret past as a PROSTITUTE revealed!”

“Hunky Leading man’s hidden HUSBAND identified!”

“Film Star commits suicide over secret revelations!”

Breaking through those images were those of a far more motherly vision:

“My poor baby is going to be without a mother.” Finally, realizing the unbearable cost of her deeds upon her beloved, beautiful 20-year-old daughter.

The long, thick, cold, steel blade sliced into her body like a hot knife into butter. She tried to scream but no sound came out. Lying in a state of shock from the searing pain, she couldn’t even throw her arms up to block the vicious attack or fight her attacker. Her body went limp and numb after the third strike. The strength behind the attack was of such rage she begins to pray for death to come quickly. The violent blade struck her body blow after blow … until, finally, her world started to fade into what seemed like peaceful blackness. In a bizarre twist, Dotty began to relish the feeling of the warm blood flowing over her body, as if it were cleansing away her horrible deeds.

The last words she was to hear in life were from her tormentor in a low, gratifying sense of delight.

“Goodbye, Dotty Henderson, and remember the distance from good to evil is but a thought. Say hello to Hell for me, you evil WHORE!”

Dotty Henderson’s reservation at Forest Lawn had been filled.

They found her that morning in a pool of blood, stabbed 23 times, her face covered by the bloodied, screaming headlines of a tabloid stuck to her forehead.

The resulting investigation would release a torrent of secrets and controversy that plunged Hollywood into a state of emergency. It also presented it at it’s finest. Nothing is as it appears in this town, and its reality is by far more intriguing and cinematic than its films.

Chapter Three

Dreaming

Police sirens, accompanied by strobing red lights, challenged the dominating storm as they roared through the streets of Hollywood from multiple directions. All headed for Sunset and Vine.

Schwab’s manager, Sam O’Brien, had been the first to discover the grisly murder scene. He had become unnerved after arriving for work and finding the front door open with the diner’s interior lights off and recognizing Dotty’s car parked in front of the entrance. After calling out to Dotty and getting no response, he phoned the police, as well as Schwab’s owners.

Hollywood Division homicide detective Rocco Goldman was the first to respond when the call went out as he was already en route to Schwab’s for his routine breakfast. A predictable practice after his graveyard shift. The detective found Dotty’s butchered body with the knife still plunged into her chest and that sick, bloody, tabloid front page pasted on her forehead.

“Six years I’ve been working homicide and I’ve never seen anything like this. Very disturbing, very disturbing!”

He was speaking to his ex-partner Elsa Wagoner. Elsa had immediately been hired by Schwab’s owners to find the killer, and had also offered a $25,000 reward.

“Here’s the list of morning regulars you asked for.” Sam handed the piece of paper to detective Goldman. “Most of them should be here shortly, if they haven’t been scared off already by the press.”

Rocco reviewed the list of patrons, recognizing that he was familiar with most of them. He had been a part of the early morning breakfast regulars for a little under five years. Silently recalling that he had been served for years by the same sweet woman who now lay, gruesomely murdered, beneath a blood soaked cloth at his feet.

As he scanned the murder scene he began a review of Dotty’s life while developing his strategy for the investigation.

Detective Goldman was pleased to have his former partner Elsa unofficially working with him as a private detective. She had retired from the force after her new wife protested about the dangers of being a police officer. Going into business for herself and a private investigator, she had developed a reputation as one of the most competent PIs in the city.

Schwab’s owners hired Elsa because they couldn’t allow this dark cloud to linger for very long over the establishment. It was bad for business. They needed this murder solved, fast.

It would later be discovered that Dotty died because she had made a living destroying the lives of others. Perhaps someone from that group of unfortunates, many of whom frequented the homey Schwab’s, had dealt her what she had secretly, and so ruthlessly, had been dishing out to others. Her weapon of choice was a conniving, vicious tongue. What was worse, this sweet lovable waitress had profited handsomely by it.

Dotty had left behind a beautiful, innocent young daughter, a loving husband, and two million dollars in cash hidden in secret bank accounts. All on the wages of a waitress.

The world would soon learn things aren’t always as they seem, especially in this town. A trail of broken hearts and shattered Hollywood lives led straight to sweet little Dotty.

The size of her savings was astounding to all who knew her. As shocking as this revelation was, the rest of her unknown legacy would stun the world. A legacy that even she was unaware of.

Why had what appeared to be, a loving, committed mother, daughter, and wife, at least until Sam had come along, lead such a double life?

She hadn’t intended to destroy anyone’s lives by being a source of cruel gossip to the tabloids … it just happened and took on a life of its own. She soon learned that the seedier the gossip, the more they paid. It became her mission. Her mistake was to leave all decency behind and pursue an unyielding greed.

She could not blame her imagined slight on a working-class background. She tried though, along with her low self-esteem. She often asked herself, “What was driving me to act this way? A force of instinct maybe? Everyone has them; they shape parts of our personalities.”

Dotty, it seems, was compelled to compensate for her imagined inadequacies: her feelings of being a common looking waitress swimming in an ocean of wealth and glamour.

Rocco asked Elsa, “Who would want to kill sweet little Dotty in such a violent manner? I mean, everyone loved Dotty. What was the significance of the tabloid plastered to her forehead?”

As the details of Dotty’s secret life unfolded, detective Goldman realized that what would turn out to be the all time mother lode for the Hollywood Police Division had fallen into his hands.

No one could have ever expected this murder to entangle so many high-profile members of the rich and famous. All caught in a murder web connected to a seemingly simple, unassuming waitress. It would rock Hollywood, and indeed all of America’s high society, to its foundation, causing many to take a long deep look into the locked closets of lovers and family members. Many found things they wish they hadn’t. Others attempted to ignore the secrets they found and go on with their lives.

To say that some of the famous residents of Hollywood would develop a bad case of nerves would be an understatement. The problem so many of the famous were confronted with was that their names had a way of being leaked to the voracious tabloid press. It didn’t matter if they were innocent or not. The mere association of their names with the dramatic and grizzly murder meant money for the gossip rags.

Headlines screamed on a daily basis the names of Schwab’s regulars.

A business practice that poor departed Dotty knew all too well.

The dirt that was to be exposed from this murder, of a nobody waitress at a legendary Hollywood eatery, would be called a “triple hit”—that of “salacious sex, dirty money for gossip, and revenge murder” by the tabloids.

The investigation retraced Dotty’s life as closely as possible. She had waited too late to heed the warning signs that had began popping up. Like being followed not once but twice. Or the subtle change in attitudes by some of the regulars. Too bad for her, she had ignored it.

Looking back, one can see where it all began to unravel.

As fate would have it, Dotty could never have imagined the truly incredible events that lay ahead of her over the next few months. Events that would have changed her life beyond her wildest dreams.

If only she hadn’t embraced the dark side with her devious greed. It would take some understanding of who she was and what went on in her private life, every part of it, to comprehend why someone would commit such a heinous crime.

One thing was certain, Dotty Henderson was a driven woman with many, many secrets.

Rocco asked Elsa, “Are you ready for this?”

“I was born ready.”

“There are an awful lot of rich, very powerful, famous people that come in here.”

“And they will all have to be investigated.”

“It’s already a feeding frenzy outside.”

Turning to a police officer standing inside the diner, “Get those goddamn windows covered right now!” Orders Detective Goldman.

“I want a concealing canvass tunnel put up to take her body out to the coroner’s van. And for Christ’s sake, tell forensics to take that goddamn knife out of her chest right now!”

“Yes sir, right away, Sergeant Goldman.”

“Elsa, scan the prelims. You and I will regroup after all of this noise and flash has gone. I’ve got to get to her family before the rabid vultures from the press. After all, I knew this woman, saw her almost every morning, knew her daughter and husband. It is the least I can do.”

Elsa was a tough ex-cop but even her eyes struggled not to match Rocco’s watery eyes. They had lost a dear friend who had been a calming force in a city of chaos.

“Keep those vipers as far away as possible!” Rocco declared before leaving.

The investigation of Dotty Henderson’s murder would make her one of the most famous women in Hollywood history. Posthumously of course.

Chapter Four

The road to greed

Dotty’s last day of life had begun like any other beautiful, sunny Southern California day.

She had entered a new chapter in life where she felt in control.

“For the first time in my life, I feel smart, sexy, and excited about my future and my beautiful daughter’s.”

“She will have everything that I didn’t. How did I get so lucky to give birth to such a beauty who also happens to be brilliant!”

“I always knew I was destined for a life at the top. It’s in my genes.”

“I was born to live well, and I am going to make it happen!”

If only she knew the truth behind those frivolous words.

Dotty and Ralph Henderson lived in quaint Burbank.

Burbank was stable, quiet, and convenient to everything Dotty needed … for the moment. As glamorous as it would have been living over the hill in West Hollywood or the Hollywood Hills, she was just too sensitive to the noise and the VERY expensive house prices, far too expensive for her and Ralph. Although just as expensive, “Sherman Oaks was different,” her contrived reasoning quantified her obsessive justification with moving to there.

Dotty possessed acute hearing sensitivity that never allowed her to use alarms, and, instead, she relied upon her neighbor’s alarm regularly setting off at 4:00 a.m. every morning.

She’d learned to live with her hyper-sensitive hearing. A curse when trying to sleep, this later to be turned into a profitable asset.

The streets of Burbank were rarely full of traffic, even during rush hour. It was a small town surrounded by the megalopolis that was Los Angeles.

Ralph didn’t have to rise until 6:00 a.m., but he enjoyed having a daily cup of coffee with his wife of 23 years before she was off for the day.

A seemingly devoted couple, they met when Ralph had stumbled into Schwab’s by accident after becoming confused about the name of a restaurant for a business lunch. That’s the day he met Dotty and her warm smile. She’d noticed a sparkle in Ralph’s eyes after the second cup of coffee. Soon after, he become a regular for lunch. His air conditioner repair job took him all over the west side of the city, thus giving him an opportunity and an excuse to see Dotty during his lunch hour.

That was a long time ago, long before Dotty met Sam O’Brien. If only Sam had taken his management position at Schwab’s before she’d met and married Ralph. O’Brien was the kind of guy Dotty thought would never be interested in her. She was wrong, but it was too late in the game for a rewind.

Dotty had to stay focused on the deals she was cooking up to make her rich. A lot was at risk, a lot was to be had, and she was ready for her big payoff in life. Love was the last thing on her mind right now. The greed in her never took a holiday.

“I know I should be thankful. That I should be happy … I don’t know why I’m not satisfied,” she would often say to herself out loud when alone. It was as if she had this uncontrollable urge that made her rebel against her common sense of being a good person.

She had a devoted, loving husband, a wonderful daughter, and a nest egg that would allow her to finally live the life she felt she deserved, regardless of how she’d gotten it. A life she’d dreamed of as a young girl ages ago when reminiscing about strolling down those beautiful, sleepy, serene streets of Sherman Oaks.

“Dreaming about the beautiful life and those beautiful people inside those beautiful homes.”

The reality of all this “beauty” existed only in her head, tucked away in the scientifically proven area of the cerebral cortex identified as fantasy land.

It was a far cry from gritty next door Van Nuys, where she had grown up. Now, years later, she sometimes took the long way home, a drive through Sherman Oaks just for a “look-see” at what was on the real estate market.

Dotty did so because she knew she now had enough cold hard cash to buy almost any house she wanted in Sherman Oaks, any time she wanted, and that would be real soon, “By God!” She smiled as she thought “my day has dawned!” Sherman Oaks was so serene one could almost forget horrible, messy things like murder could touch one of the residents of this faux “Mayberry.”

“My life had been hard growing up in Van Nuys in the 1950’s, at least hard by the Golden State’s standards. It was especially envious for working class kids like me, living next door to “leave it to Beaver,” Upper Middle–Class Sherman Oaks,” she thought while reminiscing about her childhood.

“Sherman Oaks, and those oh so quiet, meandering streets, lined with big, overbearing oak trees and white picket fences.” Letting her obsession with living in Sherman Oaks run wild … a goal set to prove to herself and the world that she was good enough to enjoy what she perceived as the ultimate American dream.

Dotty just wanted to know what it was like to live like those people in her imagination. She wanted to be “one of them.”

She never really thought of herself as greedy, and knew she was far from beautiful, yet it was material trappings that motivated her secret endeavors. At least it started out that way.

“It’s not just the money now, I’ve found out that I also love the game. I have to admit, I’m damn good at it. And nobody has a clue. They think I’m just a dumb waitress, but I’ll be the one who has the last laugh!” Ending with a chuckle.

Occasionally, when Dotty headed South of Ventura Boulevard onto Laurel Canyon she would think to herself, “How the envy and resentment towards the lifestyle of living in Sherman Oaks is still in me from childhood.”

That envy entrenched tough determination.

“To try my hardest with what life had dealt me. I wanted to improve my lot in life, not just accept it.” She had no intention of accepting a station in life she felt had been awarded by a mistake of fate.

“I had a high school education, homely looks, even made up, so I was under no false illusions. I was a practical young girl, with good manners, clean hair and nails, and lots of humility. Humility can be a powerful weapon if used properly,” she was fond of saying, feeling a sense of pride in her no nonsense approach to life.

Things had played out “OK” she thought, “not great, but … OK, if you’re interested in being average. I’m not.”

An hour earlier, she had been hosting her favorite dream, only this morning it carried an omen with it.

“God I love driving up my long driveway. Beyond the ivy covered fence towards my beautiful colonial. Mine, all mine, every brick, plank, and blade of grass, 2522 Shady Oaks Circle, Sherman Oaks, California. Finally, somehow the birds sound more beautiful here, the air fresher, the sky bluer.” Smiling at herself while dreaming.

“What’s happening? Why is it getting dark outside, it’s only morning? I don’t understand. I don’t like this, something is wrong. I can feel it.” Her dreaming smile morphing into a worried grimace.

“Got to wake up. Get up for work … must wake up!’ Dotty tossed and turned. Her face displayed a frightened crease in the middle of her forehead. A reflection of the dark clouds of fear gathering in her dream.

Upon awakening she looked down to see her heart furiously pumping as her chest heaved up and down.

“That was a disturbing dream.” One of many she had been having as of late.

“Time to get the wheels rolling!” Quipping to Ralph as she bounced out of bed towards the bathroom and shower. Her thoughts racing to map out her mission for the day.

“My stash will be well over the $2 million mark.” Money, of course, was first on her list. Continuing her solo conversation:

“Set up a meeting with Jacques. Start low with his offer and let him negotiate up to a point.” One or two words escapes her lips loud enough for Ralph to hear.

“Whatcha say honey?” Ralph yelled in her direction.

Ralph sat on the edge of the bed in his polka-a-dot boxers scratching his disheveled hair. In his early forties he was still fit enough to look down and see his belt buckle when standing. Ralph glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom.

“Oh nothing, just figuring out what I have to do at work today.” Dotty raised her voice over the sound of the shower starting.

“I’ll fix us some coffee really quick,” Ralph mumbled.

“Lover, you are a sweet dear. What would I do with you in the morning!” replied Dotty in the form of a song.

“I like doing this for you in the morning, you work so hard during the day, on your feet all day with all those demanding customers. I know how those rich folks can be. This lets me give you a little well deserved service once a day,” he proudly proclaims.

“I’m gonna marry you one day! Oops, I already did! See, you are so wonderful you still make me feel like an excited girlfriend!” She tries to sound flirty.

Dotty was not lying about her feelings towards Ralph. He was a good man and she loved him, but she wanted more. Learning long ago to hide and live with the guilt that reared its monstrous head every so often. Knowing in her heart that Ralph deserved better.

She always felt this way as she scanned her drawer in the daily ritual of selecting which sexy pair of lingerie to be worn. Lingerie not meant for the eyes of her husband.

“Oh, I don’t mind most of the customers, honey, they really are nice people for the most part, and they treat me well. Lord knows I wouldn’t have stayed this long had it been too bad. I do appreciate your sweetness. You are such a dear to me.” Spoken sincerely from a woman with so many secrets, she’d perfected the delicate straddle between honesty, lying, and betrayal like an acrobat on a high wire.

“Goodbye dear, I want to make it through Laurel Canyon before the traffic starts.”

Telling Ralph on her way out the door. In truth, she was excited to get to work every morning for many reasons, none of which had anything to do with beating traffic. Dotty’s secret agenda began at Schwab’s, but certainly didn’t end there!

“Have a good day, honey. I’ll be home a little late this evening. I have to go out to Malibu,” Ralph yells back.

“Mmmm Kiss!”

Throwing her hand towards him with an air kiss over her shoulder without looking back.