Authors: M.Z. Kelly
I spent the remainder of my day processing the James and Linda Osgood crime scene. Our working theory was that whoever had murdered and posed Sylvia Lacroix had left the cemetery, and then walked or driven two blocks over. He’d then confronted James in his pool house and butchered him, before entering the main residence and doing the same thing to his wife. Our killer had then downloaded the video of Lacroix and left his message for us.
SID had the good sense to dispatch the same staff that had replaced the original team that had processed the Lacroix murder. Unfortunately, their preliminary analysis hadn’t turned up anything in the way of a suspect’s prints or other worthwhile evidence. Brie had also processed the scene, but had also come up empty, other than telling us that the Osgoods had been dead a couple of days, making their time of death roughly consistent with that of our first victim.
It was after seven by the time Bernie and I got back to the station. I was in my car, about to head home, when Noah called and said, “It looks like you’ve had a long day.”
“How did you know?”
“The murder of that couple up in the hills has been all over the news. Rumor has it that it’s tied to the girl you found in the cemetery. It’s got everyone pretty worked up.”
I sighed. “What would we do without the news?”
“Are you up for a bite to eat? I thought I could meet you at Musso and Frank’s.”
Any other night, I wouldn’t have hesitated to eat at the iconic restaurant on Hollywood Boulevard, but I was running on fumes. “Tell you the truth, I’m pretty beat. I just want to kick off my shoes and forget about the world for a few hours.”
“Why don’t you come by my place, then? If you’re nice to me, I might even give you one of my patented massages.”
I smiled. “I can be a very nice girl. See you in a few.”
I glanced at Bernie in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Looks like you get to hang with your people for a few hours.”
Bernie’s people included the world’s largest dog, named Shaq, a couple of labs, three cats, and Pete, a sick raccoon. They were all inhabitants or patients in Noah’s home office that was on a hillside near Elysian Park in Los Angeles.
Noah met us on the front porch, then led us inside. A couple of puppies I’d never seen before immediately came over to us, wagging their tails.
“I didn’t know you had guests,” I said.
“Rescues.” He smiled and bent down to the dogs. “Meet Harry and Sally.”
I spent a couple of minutes on the floor beside him nuzzling the little dogs that looked like they were part Cocker, with maybe some beagle tossed in. I then remembered what Brie had said about possibly adopting a dog for Lily and mentioned it to Noah.
“Ideally, I’d like to find someone who would take both puppies,” he said, “but we’ll have several other dogs at this weekend’s event.” Bernie finished giving Shaq some attention and came over to do a meet and greet with Harry and Sally, as Noah added, “How is Brie doing?”
We both stood up and I exhaled. “It’s a struggle, both physically and emotionally. She’s a strong woman, but I worry about her and her daughter. Lily’s pretty wrapped up in what’s happening to her mom.”
“Maybe Lily would like to hang out here at the office for a few hours one of these days. Sometimes it’s good to get away and change your focus.”
“That would be terrific. I’ll mention it to Brie.”
Noah took my hand. “Let’s go back to the porch and open a bottle of wine.”
Noah’s house was a rambling craftsman, built around the middle of the last century, which overlooked the city. He spent most of his down time on the backyard porch. It was furnished comfortably, with several photographs on the walls of him growing up and his years in the army.
He brought over a bottle of pinot from his wine fridge. While working on the cork, he asked me if I’d settled into my new home.
“I’d better not get too settled. We’re being evicted.”
“What?”
“The residents’ council doesn’t seem to think we fit in. They drummed up some ethics code violation and hired a lawyer. He served us with notice that we have three days to move.”
“I can get Madeline involved, if you’d like. From what she told me, she’s done battle with them before.”
Madeline Dupree was the wealthy owner of the mobile homes that my friends and I were renting.
“I’ll let you know.” I rubbed my neck, feeling the tension of the day. “We have a lawyer, named Hermes Krump, who’s supposed to be working on our behalf.”
Noah smiled. “Hermes Krump. Really?”
“It’s better if you don’t ask.” I kneaded my muscles again. “I could really use that massage you offered.”
He served the wine, then had me sit on a cushion in front of him as he worked on my shoulders. After a moment, he said, “You’ve got so many knots you could give them names.”
I chuckled. “Let’s see…there’s a Darby in there…and then a Peters and a Feckle. Not to mention an Oz.”
“Your lieutenant?”
“Yeah…” He continued to work on my neck. I moaned, “Ahh…that’s the spot.”
“I thought you and your lieutenant got along pretty well.”
I realized that I hadn’t told him about the photograph of Oz and my love-dad that was taken at Jean Winslow’s party. I took a moment and filled him in on everything, adding, “To make matters worse, Ryan Cooper was also in the photo, along with Kellen Malone.”
Noah was familiar with Cooper and Malone because I’d previously mentioned them. I then remembered my discussion with Dr. Castillo. “I talked to a professor at UCLA today. She’s an expert on some issues that might be relevant to our case. She’s also an expert on cults. I mentioned the Revelation to her and, as it turns out, she knows about the group.”
“Really? What did she say?”
“Have you ever heard of a man named Harlan Ryland?”
I had the impression that Noah was thinking about my question as he continued to work on my shoulders. He took a moment before saying, “I don’t think so.”
“According to Castillo, the Revelation believed in a form of enlightenment and that they would eventually take over and change society. Ryland split off from the original founders, the Revelation pretty much dissolved, and he became the founder of the Tauist Society.”
“I’ve heard about them. Aren’t they the ones who have their members on the streets looking for converts?”
“Yes. From what I understand, they have beliefs that are similar to the Revelation. The professor told me that in the early days of Hollywood, Ryland and his group had a lot of control over the stars and the studios. She also told me that one of Ryland’s associates was Donald Regis.”
“That studio guy that you mentioned before?”
“He was the head of Wallace Studios back in the day. He supposedly committed suicide recently. Castillo said he and Ryland had some sort of falling out.”
“Did she think Ryland could have murdered him?”
“She didn’t say. I’m going to have dinner with her tomorrow night. I’m hoping to get a lot more information.” I went on to mention that my adoptive mother had recently gone to the Tauist retreat. “I don’t know if she has some knowledge about Ryland that she’s kept from me all these years, or if she just went there to get away.”
“Are you going to talk to her?”
I sighed, feeling some of the tension in my shoulders finally beginning to ease. “At some point. Although dealing with my mother is about the last thing I need with all the other stress in my life.”
Noah stopped working on my shoulders and said, “Maybe you should give it a rest for a while.”
I turned my head, but still couldn’t see him, since he was sitting behind me. “What do you mean?”
I heard him take a breath and exhale. “I just think maybe you’re too close to everything and that you’re a little obsessed with what happened to your father.”
I moved away from him, turned, and looked back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I just think you’re…”
“Obsessed. I heard what you said.”
His voice pitched higher. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
My brows inched together, my tone growing accusatory. “You said the word.”
“I’m just concerned about you. I think maybe you’re going a little overboard.”
“Really?” I stood up. Now
my
voice pitched higher. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear. I’ll repeat it for you one more time, just so that you understand. I believe there’s a reason I was put on this earth and became a cop. It’s to get to the bottom of my father’s murder, once and for all.”
Noah stood up and took a step closer, trying to hug me.
“Stop,” I said, taking a step back. “I guess I didn’t make myself clear about everything when we started dating.”
“You did, but…”
“But what?”
He took another breath. “Lately, I just think that maybe it’s a little too much. It’s taken control of your life, affected your relationships. Just look at what it’s doing to us right now.”
“I don’t believe this.” I got my sweater off the sofa, then turned back to him. “I’m leaving.”
He followed, trailing behind me through the house and into the living room as I got Bernie. “Kate, let’s talk.”
I snapped Bernie’s leash on his collar, then opened the door. “I have nothing to talk to you about. I’ll just go my merry way, living a life of obsession.”
I slammed the door behind me and the world dissolved into a blur of light and water. Tears were streaming down my face.
***
I got home just before nine. I was still angry over my conversation with Noah and the way we’d left things. Noah had always been supportive and understanding of my need to find my father’s killer. His change of heart had left me feeling defeated and abandoned. Maybe I’d misjudged both him and our relationship. We’d only been dating for a few weeks and, once again, I questioned whether this was another relationship I’d rushed into to make up for the losses in my life.
As I got Bernie out my car, I was feeling depressed and contemplated getting into bed and hiding out from the world. Then I heard Natalie calling out to me from her porch. “Kate! Come over for a few. Mo and me just had a pizza delivered.”
I was starving and weighed the option of sleep induced depression versus food. My stomach won the battle. A couple of minutes later, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Nana was sitting at my friends’ kitchen table.
“I saw you on TV today,” Nana said, after I’d greeted her and took a seat at the table with everyone. “Your hair looked like hell.”
While my friends lacked a certain degree of diplomacy, Nana took the word
tactless
to a whole other level. She’d been our landlord at one time, before she’d gotten married and her husband had dropped dead on their wedding day. He’d left Nana with about fifty million dollars and a host of angry relatives who were contesting the will.
“I think Kate just had that tussled, wind-blown look,” Natalie said.
I tugged at my wayward do. “I’m trying to grow it out again.”
“You should
throw
it out,” Nana said. “You looked like Norman Bates plugged into an electric socket.”
Mo, who suffered from a wig addiction and tonight sported curly purple hair, was munching on a slice of pizza. “According to the reporters, the killing of that couple was done by the same guy who whacked and posed that Day of the Dead girl.”
I now had my own pizza slice. I didn’t want to go into details and said, “That might be the case.”
“Why do you suppose he’s doing it?”
My mouth was full of pizza, and I mumbled, “Too early to say.”
“I have my own theory,” Nana said. She was working on a long string of cheese and, with her oversized dentures, she looked like an elderly shark that was trying to floss.
Mo rolled her eyes. “If this involves sex, I don’t wanna hear it.”
Nana was taking a sexual rejuvenation drug and lately had surrounded herself with a group of male friends she called her posse. Everyone else called them gigolos.
Nana went on anyway. “The guy suffered some kind of Halloween trauma when he was a kid. He’s now taking it out on everyone.”
“Halloween trauma,” Natalie said, shaking her head. “Now I heard of everything.”
Nana continued. “The same thing happened to my brother when he was little.”
“You mean he became a crazy-ass serial killer,” Mo said, with a mouth full of pizza.
“No. He was traumatized by a scary mask that I had. He ran around the house screaming bloody murder whenever he saw it.”
Natalie laughed. “You sure it was just the mask that scared him?”
Nana defended herself, but was starting to take things personally, so I changed the subject. “What’s the latest with your bucket-list party?” I knew she was planning a blow-out party that she hoped people would be talking about even after she was dead.
Nana blotted her ruby lips. “I finally got the permits. It’s going to be this coming Saturday night on Hollywood Boulevard. You’re invited, providing you don’t poop on my party.”