Hollywood Assassin (32 page)
Chapter Two
“Stay down,” I yelled, the echo of the gunshot blasting through the room still ringing in my ears.
The lights in my mother’s psychic parlor were out, the room only illuminated by the light spilling in from an adjacent room. There was a momentary silence as we tried to understand what had happened. Everyone was on the floor; a writhing mass of arms, legs, fur, and Versace.
And then the screaming and yelling began.
“Get my driver, now,” Karma shrieked.
“The floor is wet, sticky,” Vee said, sliding around in the blood spray like a novice skater on a frozen pond. “I can’t get my footing.”
Mo was under the table, legs and arms in a spandex tourniquet, yelling something about motherfuckers.
Natalie let loose with a string of British obscenities ending with a reference to the queen’s genitalia. She pulled her husband, Clyde’s, antique pistol out of her purse and waved it in the air.
I finally found my own purse, yanked out my cell phone, and called it in.
“This is Detective Kate Sexton with LAPD. We have shots fired. I need tactical units, code three at my location. And send an ambulance.” I gave them Mom’s address and ended the call.
I wasn’t sure about needing the ambulance until I found the light switch. When the spirit room lit up, I realized that I should have just called for the coroner, and maybe a psychiatrist, considering the personalities in the room.
Harriett Nordquist had done a face plant onto the multi-colored spirit table. Blood was pouring out of a hole in her head.
“Fraid the dew is off the Lilly,” Natalie said, examining the dead body slumped over on the table. Nothing much bothers my British friend. “Maybe she shoulda settled for cleaning cuckoo clocks.”
“Get down, Nat,” I yelled. “And put the gun away.” I turned to my mother, who was also slumped forward across the table, her headscarf covering her face.
“Mom, are you hurt?” I said, trying to stay low as I checked on her. I pulled the scarf up and saw that Miss Daisy had fainted. She was coming to, moaning something about evil spirits and the dead. She appeared to be okay, at least as okay as my mother gets.
I took a moment to compose myself. The room was in a state of chaos, but no one, other than Karma’s agent, appeared harmed. Vee, who I’d learned before the reading was someone Karma called her FFF, First Friend Forever, was now making a fanning motion in front of Karma’s face, and slipping around in the blood while screaming for someone to get water.
“STFU,” I yelled at the FFF, thinking about other things the initials could stand for. I then turned to the other women in the room. “Everyone, stay right where you are. Do not get off the floor until I get back.”
The shot that had killed Nordquist had come through the window. The glass was shattered, covering the floor and mixing with the blood. I gathered up Bernie, tethered him, and crouched low, heading out onto the patio with my gun drawn.
The night was damp and moonless. The only lights in the neighborhood were coming from Mom’s cottage and the amber streetlights that lined the road. In the distance, the city of Hollywood drifted in and out of a fog bank, a shimmering mirage of dreams or nightmares, depending upon your perspective.
I did the calculations, looking from where the bullet had entered the house then back to the neighborhood, and decided that the shooter must have been on the street where it turned and headed up the block.
At first, I thought the shooting might have been a drive-by. But as I headed out onto the sidewalk, I began to wonder if the killer was stalking Karma and had hit her agent by mistake. This was Hollywood and the singer was one of the most famous performers in the world. I cringed at the thought of the press getting ahold of the story. Mom’s neighborhood and the city would become a media and paparazzi feeding frenzy.
I turned, yanking on Bernie’s leash, as I headed up the sidewalk. My big dog growled and I looked up in time to see something or someone in the shadows hiding behind one of the cars parked at the curb up the street.
“Police,” I yelled. “Walk toward me now or I release the dog.” I fingered my gun. “Hands in the air.”
Silence.
I took a step forward and heard the shuffling sound of someone moving. A car door opened. I reached down to release Bernie, but something in the road caught my eye.
I glanced up just in time to see the car’s headlights come on and it jerk away from the curb. An engine roared to life as the car accelerated in our direction. I dove and rolled away from the speeding car, pulling Bernie with me as it rumbled past us.
I raised my Glock, drawing a bead on the speeding car. I was about to fire when I decided it was too late. There were some apartment buildings beyond the roadway. One errant shot and I’d be up to my ears in hot water with LADP brass again. There was no way I’d risk another go-around with the boys in the
Tower
, as my partner, Charlie Winkler, referred to the LAPD administrators.
I was headed back to my mother’s house, hearing the sirens coming up the street, when I stopped. I pushed my brown hair out of my eyes and searched the road where I’d stood a moment earlier. Then I saw it.
At first I thought it was some kind of large playing card. But when I lifted it up by the edge, I saw the image. It was one of those fortune-telling cards that I’d seen psychics use. In fact, I thought I’d seen a similar card in my mother’s house and wondered if it belonged to her.
I turned the card over. There was an image of a skeleton riding a horse, carrying some kind of flag. Then I saw the handwritten words at the bottom of the card.
The silence is broken.
MZ Kelly spent over thirty years in the field of law enforcement. His experience includes dealing with violent felony offenders, making sentencing recommendations to the courts, supervising a detention program for juvenile offenders, running a jail, and developing innovative programs to keep our streets safe. His law enforcement experience was in Southern California, not too far from the famous Sunset Strip, and includes run-ins with some of America’s craziest criminals, not to mention a few wannabe actors, and even an Oscar award winner!
Copyright © 2014 by MZ Kelly
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