Natalie tugged on my sleeve and said, “I also got me some news. I’ve been shakin’ some trees and found out that John Carmichael’s secretary, Lydia Grayson, is still alive. She lives at the Sandalwood Retirement Home in Santa Monica. I made an appointment for us to talk to her tomorrow afternoon.” Her eyes were on me. “Do you think you can make it?”
“I’ll be there.”
***
My answering machine was blinking when I got home. The first message was from Jimmy Chester, telling me not to worry, that he was going to mount a vigorous defense on my behalf.
After listening to the message, I turned to Bernie and said, “He might as well mount a sheep, for all the good he’ll do me.”
The second message was from Jack, saying that he had a lead on Cassie Reynolds’ mother and would be out of the area for a few days. At the end of the message, he said something that caused me to replay the recording a couple times.
The message said, “Last night was very special to me, just so you know.”
After turning off the machine, I tossed a handful of bills into my wicker basket, fed Bernie, and then moved to the sofa. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about everything that had happened over the past few days.
A good cop was wanted for murder. My job was in jeopardy. I might be facing criminal charges. And my brother’s life had been threatened. I spent the next ten minutes engaging in what a girlfriend once called “therapy tears”. When I finished my therapy session, the fatigue of the last two days caught up with me and I dozed off on the sofa.
Several hours later, I was jolted awake when my phone rang.
The voice on the line said, “Kate, this is Brian Jankowitz.”
I was immediately on the defensive, wondering if the captain was calling because of my pending disciplinary proceedings.
“Yes, Jank. What is it?”
“I’ve got some bad news, Kate. Your brother’s been arrested.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I broke all the speed limits rushing to Men’s Central Jail. I don’t know why I drove like a mad woman because I knew there wasn’t much I could accomplish until Robin was released on bail. Jankowitz wasn’t specific about the nature of the drug charges my brother was facing. But I knew one thing for sure: Robin never used drugs.
Tom Bouchet greeted me in the reception center. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t there. Maybe the detention officer had a room in the jail.
The grizzled veteran punched Robin’s name into the computer terminal. “Possession for sale of a Schedule II Controlled Substance. Methamphetamine. A felony.”
My anxiety level went through the roof. “Possession for sale? I don’t understand.”
“Had to do with the quantity.” Bouchet looked up from the screen. “Had enough meth in his car to supply half of Hollywood.”
“That’s crazy. Robin won’t even take an aspirin, and he certainly wouldn’t sell drugs.”
Bouchet didn’t respond. He tried what I decided was a sympathetic look, but couldn’t pull it off.
“I’ve called a bondsman,” I said. “In the meantime, can I have a brief visit with my brother?”
“One of the perks of being in law enforcement. Anybody else would have to wait until regular visiting hours.”
As I waited for Robin in the visiting area, questions and guilt assaulted me. If I hadn’t been obsessed with trying to help Jack Bautista, would any of this be happening? Hadn’t I been warned to stay out of things that didn’t concern me? And then there was Conrad Harper and Nathan Kane. What roles were they playing in what was happening? Was this the first in a series of paybacks that would ultimately result in Robin’s death? What if Kane planned to have someone kill Robin while he was in jail? Why hadn’t I simply backed off the investigation like Charlie had said?
My stomach churned with acid. I felt like I was on the verge of passing out. I again punched the number for the bail bondsman into my phone. When I was told they determined I didn’t have enough assets to bond my brother’s release, I remembered I was on the deed to Mom’s house and used that for collateral. I was sure she would approve.
I ended the call as Robin was being escorted to the visiting area. Seeing my brother in an orange jumpsuit on the wrong side of the glass nuked my anxiety level. His face was sallow. He looked like someone who had already accepted defeat.
I picked up the phone and said, “I just talked to the bondsman. Bail should be posted within the hour, and we’ll have you out.”
“Thanks,” Robin managed. His pale blue eyes only met me halfway. “I should have stayed home like you said. I blew it. I’m sorry.”
“None of this is your fault.” I wanted to tell him he was probably sitting in jail because of my refusal to stay out of an investigation I had no business being involved in, but the timing was wrong. “Tell me what happened.”
“I know it was the wrong thing to do, but I ended up going back to Donovan’s place earlier tonight. I was parked down the road from the main gate when a car came out and I followed it. Turned out to be Clark and Bon Bon doing some clubbing. They ended up at Club Bang on Sunset.”
The club had a reputation for drugs. When cops arrested someone there, they always said the suspect was Bang Busted.
Robin continued. “I parked and followed them into the club. I tried to talk to Clark while Bon Bon was in the restroom.” Robin paused, his eyes filling. “Kate, he was high. He wasn’t able to carry on a conversation. I think Bon Bon was giving him Oxies.”
“Oxycontin? What makes you think that?”
“I’ve seen what the drug does. Clark was dizzy, confused, on the verge of passing out, talking out of his mind.”
I was far less concerned about Clark than my brother. “How did you end up with drugs in your car?”
“I left the club around midnight, right after Clark and Bon Bon. Someone, probably Zen, had set me up, put the drugs in my car. I think it was a payback because of my relationship with Clark. The police pulled me over when I was driving home.” Robin’s eyes were moist again. “Sis, I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I don’t use drugs.”
“You don’t have to go there. I know.” I sighed. Without any witnesses or other suspects, the case would be difficult, if not impossible, to beat.
“There’s something else,” Robin said. “When the police were handcuffing me, a car drove by and stopped for a moment. The windows were tinted and, at first, I couldn’t see into the car. When the window came down, I realized who it was.”
“Zen?” I asked.
Robin shook his head. “I only saw him at the party at his estate once, but I’m sure it was him. He was sitting in the back of his black Mercedes, staring at me with this strange look on his face.” My brother released his breath, like a deflating balloon. “It was Wolf Donovan.”
I sank back into my chair. Another wave of nausea hit me. Robin’s words crashed through my mind. Wolf Donovan... black Mercedes... tinted windows... I gulped in air, fighting the bile rising in my throat.
Then the questions came. Did Nathan Kane somehow use Wolf Donovan to get to Robin? Or was Conrad Harper involved? I remembered the phone records. Pearl had said, “He made calls to all the major stars.” Maybe Harper’s phone records showed him calling Wolf Donovan. And then there was the Mercedes that had nearly run me and Natalie off a cliff and almost hit me in the hospital parking lot. Was Donovan also behind those events, helping out Harper and Kane?
The overhead florescent lights dimmed. I felt dizzy.
“Kate? Are you okay?” Robin touched the wire reinforced window separating us.
I took a deep breath, tried to steady myself. “I will be. Just as soon as I get you out of here and someplace safe.”
After bailing Robin out and dropping him at Mom’s house, I dragged myself home and into bed. I had the next day off and slept until ten when Bernie broke into his potty dance. I slipped into a pair of sweats and a t-
shirt, grabbed my partner’s leash, and we headed for the side yard, where I met Marilyn Monroe.
“Care for a cuppa?” Natalie asked, primping her blonde wig. She was wearing a white cotton dress that I think Marilyn wore in an old movie. Some Like it Hot? Natalie was definitely hot.
“Why not?” I said. My mind was still reeling over my brother’s arrest, and I needed a distraction. “Meet you on the patio.”
I let Bernie finish his business, and then we came around the appliance store to the patio area.
I took a seat across from Natalie and motioned to the salesmen at the windows. “They’re staring at you like you’ve got nothing on.”
“It’s not true that I had nothing on. I had the radio on.” Natalie laughed, then lost the Marilyn impersonation. “It’s one of her lines from an old movie.” She pushed a book across the table.
I read the title out loud. “Acting Up, Acting Rich.” I looked at her. “Let’s see, a few days ago you wanted to be a cop, now an actress. Are you sure about this, Natalie?”
“Sure as a wizard’s winkle.” She set teacups on the table. “Actually, I’ve thought the flicks might be for me since I was a kid. That’s why I originally came to Tinseltown, before Old Clyde swept me off me feet. Besides, if I don’t become a star, I can always use me actin’ abilities when I go on a snoop.” Natalie took the teapot. “Let me fill your boots.” She poured and said, “I have a bit of a favor to ask.”
“I don’t know anyone famous and I can’t get you onto the sets of the movie studios, if that’s what you’re after.”
Natalie shook her head. “I’m gonna attend that actors workshop your mum’s sponsorin’ tomorrow night. It’s still goin’ on, even though she’s under the weather. Clyde threw a wobbly when I mentioned it. He refused to drive me, and I still don’t have me license. I was wonderin’ if you could give me a lift, come with me to the first class?”
“Why don’t you just take a cab?”
“Had me a bad experience with a cabbie a few years back.” Natalie locked her beautiful hazel eyes on me. “Please. Just come with me to the first class. After that, I’ll make other arrangements.”
“Okay,” I said, deciding I must be deranged. I was a couple days away from my interrogation with IAD and my brother was facing drug charges, probably thanks to me, but there’s something about Natalie I just couldn’t resist. “I’m not acting, though,” I warned her. “I’ll just be there to watch.”
“Good enough.” She removed her wig. “Can I also catch a ride with you for our chat with Lydia Grayson?”
I’d almost forgotten about the interview with John Carmichael’s former secretary. “Of course. Just give me a few minutes to pull myself together.”
***
Natalie and I found Pearl already parked at the curb in front of the Sandalwood Retirement Home in the hills overlooking Santa Monica. As Bernie tended to a flower bed, I took a moment and filled them both in on Robin’s arrest and his apparent sighting of Wolf Donovan.
“So call me crazy, but now I’m wondering if Donovan isn’t somehow linked to Harper and Kane.” I asked Pearl, “Didn’t Harper’s phone records show he was calling a lot of stars?”
“There were several calls, including some to Donovan,” Pearl said. “At the time, I just thought it was part of being a big time movie producer, but maybe there’s more to it.”
We found Lydia Grayson’s apartment overlooking a swimming pool. After a knock, the elderly woman greeted us at the door. Grayson stood just over five feet and was portly. She had one of those sweet, compassionate faces that you associate with a grandmother.
We trailed behind as she waddled like an overweight duck toward her living room sofa. We declined her offer of drinks and took seats.
Natalie sat next to Grayson and began the questioning. “As I mentioned when I called yesterday, we’re lookin’ into the disappearance of John Carmichael. You worked for him back in the 1980s?”
“Yes, a long time ago.” Her gaze fixed on Natalie for a moment. “You’re very pretty. Do you have any royal blood?”
“Me great grandmum acted like a queen bean from time to time, but nothin’ official. Thanks for askin’.”
“I couldn’t believe it when Princess Kate was photographed in the nude,” Grayson said, lowering her voice.
Natalie smiled. “Guess the royal assets need airin’ out now and then.”
The elderly woman laughed and then looked at Pearl and me. “Are you cold case detectives?”
Pearl leaned forward. His deep voice took on a confidential tone. “Of a sort. We’re trying to establish any facts that might help us determine what happened to Mr. Carmichael.”
“He was murdered, if you want my opinion,” Grayson said. “That’s why I couldn’t understand why the police didn’t look into it more.”
“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm him?” Natalie asked.
The elderly woman’s fleshy face folded into a smile. She looked like a child who was swallowing the last remnants of a cookie she had stolen. “Everybody liked Mr. C, especially the women. He was a real lady’s man. He didn’t have any enemies that I knew of.”
“What kind of work did you do for Mr. C?”
“Answered the phones and sorted through the mail. Also paid the bills when he had enough money.”
“We understand he was a movie producer.”
Grayson laughed. “He did a lot of things. Worked with wrestlers, trying to put shows together, did a few commercials, that sort of thing.”
“What about the movie he was working on, Days of Destiny?” I asked.
“Mr. C had big dreams about that film. Thought he might even win an Oscar someday, but he ran out of money.” She looked off into space for a moment and said, “I wonder whatever became of it.”
“Do you know if anyone was working on the movie with him?”
“Mr. C had a lot of people around him; small time actors who thought they were going to be stars someday. No one in particular comes to mind.”
“Records show that Mr. Carmichael ran a business called Pacific Trading Partners, with a man named Conrad Harper,” Pearl said.
“Yes, I remember that he and Mr. C got together when he was trying to arrange financing for different projects. I don’t think my boss understood business matters that well. He let Mr. Harper handle the details.”
“Did you see him with Mr. Harper a lot?”
“He just came around when John was in need of money.”
“What about drugs?” Natalie asked. “Do you know if Mr. C and Mr. Harper had any involvement in the drug business?”
“Heavens, no. Mr. C. wasn’t into that sort of thing.”
“Was there anyone else Mr. Carmichael might have been working with at that time?” I asked.
“There was a man who sometimes came around with Mr. Harper.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember his name.”
I held up a mug shot of Kane that I’d gotten from our records bureau. “Was this the man you saw with Harper? His name is Nathan Kane. He would have been much younger then, of course.”
Grayson studied the photograph. “I just don’t know. My memory isn’t what it once was.”
Natalie moved the conversation in a different direction. “What about female friends? Did Mr. C have a girlfriend?”
“He had lots of women around him, but no one he was serious about.”
“It seems that randy old Mr. C put a bun…” Natalie heard me cough and saw me shaking my head. “Sorry, I meant to say Mr. C had a daughter, who went by the name Cassie Reynolds. She was born a few months after he went missin’.”
“A daughter! That’s so wonderful. I think he would have made a wonderful father.”
“A lady named Gloria Stallings was her mother,” Natalie said. “Does that name ring a bell? She might have remarried, changed her last name.”
“I’m sorry. As I said, there were lots of wo
men, but I had no idea anyone was pregnant.” Her gaze met Natalie directly. “Maybe you should talk to Cassie about her mother.”
Natalie nodded but didn’t say anything.
I was getting frustrated. Grayson wasn’t giving us anything new. I decided to ask the question that had been on my mind since Robin’s arrest.
“Did you ever see Mr. Carmichael with the actor Wolf Donovan?”
Lydia Grayson’s heavy face defied gravity and registered surprise. “Oh, heavens, no. I would remember him. Wolf Donovan. Now, that would really be something.”
I looked at Pearl and Natalie, picking up on their frustration. “Is there anything else you might be able to tell us, Ms. Grayson?”
The flesh on Grayson’s face folded into a smile. Her tired eyes moved from Pearl to Natalie and then back to me. “Aren’t you going to ask me who murdered Mr. C?”
I lifted my brows, my blood pressure rising. “Okay, who murdered Mr. C?”
The elderly woman’s voice became hushed. “I didn’t think much about it until several days after Mr. C disappeared. I tried to report it to the police, but no one seemed to want to listen.”
“What is that, Ms. Grayson?” I asked.
“The night before Mr. C disappeared, I remembered I’d left my checkbook at work. I came back to the office that evening. Mr. C’s office door was closed, but I heard voices, angry voices, arguing.”
“What was the argument about?”
“I couldn’t tell. All I know is at one point I heard the voice of a man saying, ‘You do that and you will regret it.’”
“Do you have any idea who he was talking to?”
Grayson shook her head. “No, I left right after that. I was worried someone might come out of the office and catch me there.” A furtive smile creased her fleshy face. “But I saw his car. It was parked up the block from Mr. C’s office.”
We all exchanged glances. “Whose car?” I asked.
Grayson’s lips turned up as she told a secret she’d kept for almost thirty years. “It was a black-and-white car. The man arguing with Mr. C the night before he disappeared was a policeman.”
Chapter Thirty