Killing America's Sweetheart: A Natalie Miller Mystery (2 page)

Like many small towns,
once nine o’clock hits the town goes quiet, and by midnight it’s dead. As I drive home down West Street, I make a left on Main and another right on College, until I came to Oak where I make a left and pull into the dark parking lot. I exit my car and go up a flight of stairs where I open the door to my studio apartment.

“Honey, I’m home!” I call
.

Little nails came prancing down the kitch
en floor to great me as I turn on the lamp.

“Ruff! Ruff!”

I reach down and scoop up my little toy Manchester Terrier named what else? Honey. She’s a tiny little thing, just barely weighing six pounds with black and tan markings. I’ll admit she wasn’t my first choice when it came to selecting a dog. I really wanted a Cavalier King Charles, but they were way out of my price range. Honey came to me by fate one night while I was in Vegas. I was there on a getaway with my BFF Karen Kane when we wandered into a shady area with a Korean restaurant. Needless to say the menu was very objectionable to me and instead of getting an order to-go; I ended up with Honey. Everything worked out and now I have a very loyal companion who is always happy to see me when I get home.

I put Honey down
, pour some dog food into her bowl and quickly changed out of my ugly red and black uniform and throw on my comfy sweatshirt and gently loved flannel bottoms. I make sure to pop a few ibuprofens before heading to bed. I wait briefly for Honey to join me, before pulling the blankets over us. We are sound asleep in no time.

Chapter 2

The Murder, Tuesday 2:00A.M.

“I can’t believe him, he’s being such an as
shole,” she mutters to herself as she hurries out the front door.

I guess all the crazie
s come out on nights like these,
she muses as she notices the large full moon. Her mother had always warned her of the dangers a full moon brought. 
Mother never knew these people,
she thinks bitterly.

Hannah knew she needed to be
quiet, as it was close to two a.m. and the others were asleep. She made her way outside the plush home to her luxury SUV parked next to the garage. Her shoulder was already aching from the weight of the backpack and her purse.
Damn him!
She clicked the alarm to unlock the doors but nothing happened.
Did I set the alarm?
She extended her hand and pulled the lever, which opened without incident.
Guess not. Not that it matters here in Mayberry.

She slid into the driver’s side and quietly closed the door. She was still fuming from their earlier argument.
How could Simon be so blind? As if she had any other reason for showing up. What was with him anyhow? He should be happy someone like me is with him, in this trashy little town no less.

Hannah was not a woman many men would kick out of bed, and yet here she was living in total small town
isolation, for what? Love? No, that was too strong of a word for what they shared, but the sex (when they used to have it) was always pretty amazing and it made up for a lot of things. She could almost forgive him for moving to this God awful place.

Hannah
sighed. Now she set her mind to the task at hand, the real problem. She always knew she couldn’t trust that lying sack of shit. Who the fuck did he think he was, blackmailing
her
? She spent nearly a decade crafting the perfect public image; America’s Sweetheart, which was a title she had earned. All those Broadway shows, PG movies and the carefully chosen indie parts, finally led to the role she was born to play, the one which won her the Oscar. No, she wasn’t about to let a bottom feeder like him ruin everything. She had already suffered an image blow for her latest lover, if the other secrets came out, she would be blacklisted and more than likely never recover. It was okay for a man to have secrets in Hollywood, but when a woman does, and those secrets come out, it can ruin her.

She checked her iPhone and saw a new message.

Don’t even think about not showing. This is your final warning!

She threw her phone back into her purse. That little asshole was going to get exactly what he was demanding and not a penny more. She adjusted her rearview mirror and caught sight of a form in the back seat.

“What th—,” she exclaimed.

The black form came forward with a gun and placed it to her head.

“You’re not worthy, you evil little bitch,” the form hissed.

She was beyond scared, panic quickly set in. She looked at the gun and noticed what looked to be a silencer.
No one will hear a thing!
The moon cast light on the dark form and she recognized the person.

“I
…I know you!” she cried.

The form laughed.

“You have no idea who I am. But I know exactly who you are, and that’s precisely why you are going to die.”

“Please! Please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything! I have money! Look inside the backpack, there’s a hundred thousand dollars in it,” she pleaded.

The form cocked the gun and in that moment she knew it was over.

“It would be easier if it
was just about money, but it’s not. This is personal.”

Those were the last words America’s Sweetheart would ever hear.

CHAPTER 3

Morning came way too soon
for me. In all honesty I hadn’t slept as great as I had hoped. I ended up having an awful nightmare about a woman who was about to be murdered. It was such a strange dream because I couldn’t see who she was, because I was viewing it through her eyes. There was little I could make out since she had been inside her vehicle in the dark, but the feeling of terror and helplessness plagued me. The dream had chilled me to my bones; I was unable to get warm. I remember feeling the coolness of the gun pressed against her temple and hearing her pled with the killer, even offering money, but that wasn’t what he wanted. I say ‘he’ because I heard the voice, but never actually saw the killer. Anyhow the dream cut off right before I saw the victim or the killer. The woman was just about to look into her rearview mirror when Honey began whining for a potty break. I remember looking at my clock and it was a little past two a.m. After taking Honey outside, I pretty much tossed and turned the rest of the night.

I was just about to get up when I heard
the sound of my phone ringing. I opened my eyes which were still blurry and put my arm out to the nightstand next to me feeling for my phone.

“Hello?” I said with a
hoarse voice.

“Natalie? Are you awake?”

Oh, I should have known, Mom. I glanced over at the alarm clock which read 7:01 AM.

“Yeah
. What’s going on?” I replied.

“Did you see the news? No, wait you probab
ly haven’t. Anyhow just put it on,” she said with urgency.

I grabbed the remote which
was lying on the vacant pillow next to me and turned on the TV.

“Which channel?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s on all of them. I can’t believe this happened here. Treeville is just getting worse and worse,” she fretted.

I found one station that wasn’t on a commercial break and finally saw the news my mother was talking about.

“Just to recap, Hollywood actress Hannah Gold has been found dead, apparently the victim of a homicide. She was found early this morning by her boyfriend, fellow Oscar award winner Simon Bellamy at his Treeville home,” said the morning newscaster Sarah Alan.

Oh shit.

“Natalie? Are you there? Did you see it?” Mom asked.

Oh, I saw it alright. The footage was from
outside Simon’s giant estate on County Road 97 and it looked way too familiar, but I chalked that up to too many tabloid photos.

“I see it. She was murdered?” I asked.

“That’s what they’re saying. Not much more than that. I guess they’re questioning Simon Bellamy about it too, seeing as she was found on his property.”

“Did they say where on the property they found her?” I asked as I watched the news footage
. The TV showed dozens of police cars and a close up of the coroner’s van come on the screen. It appeared they were blocking off an area just near the garage, which was separate from the large five thousand square foot home. The camera man was really trying to get a good shot of a black range rover, but it was hard with the parameter the police had set up. That’s when the camera panned over to a tall, strikingly good looking detective with a grim look on his face.

“Is that Zack?” mom asked, clearly watching the same channel.

Shit.

My one night stand from three years ago, which continued to haunt me.

“Mom, I have to go.”

Chapter Four

There was no way I would be able to go back to sleep after finding out news like this. So, I jumped in the shower, blow dried and spritzed my hair, applied a little makeup, threw
on a pair of jeans, a comfy slouchy sweater, and my trusty brown leather boots and headed out.

It was chilly
this time of the year. October was filled with cool mornings and evenings, but warm afternoons. Today’s morning was crisp, but there was no frost on the cars. To which I was grateful, as it made it easier for me to get on my way.

I pulled onto R
oad 97 and drove as far as I could before the barricade prevented me from moving further. Media vans were parked on either side of the old farm road. I had never seen so many news trucks in Treeville before. It wasn’t just local media; there were people from San Francisco and major outlets like CNN and FOX News. Well, small town Treeville was finally on the map, but for all the wrong reasons.

I parked my car near a news truck from CBS and cautiously got out. I saw a familiar reporter from the local affiliate and moved over to ask a few questions.

“Is there anything new to report?” I asked seasoned reporter Kyle Newsom.

He sized me up quickly and looked at me skeptically.

“What station are you from?” he asked quickly.

“I’m not from a station, I just live near here and thought I’d drive down and take a look.”

He gave me another once over and then looked at my car and nodded.

“Not much more to report other than they found Hannah Gold in the driver’s side of her Range Rover.”

I looked over his shoulder and could see that most of the cameras were aiming at the area by the garage.

“Do they know the cause of death?” I asked.

“If they do they’re not saying,” he replied as he touched his finger to his ear piece. “Excuse me, I’m about to go live.”

I moved away to let him get bac
k to work while I moved near the safety of my vehicle and decided to make a call. Before I was able to dial, the phone sounded with the Halloween Theme song, (it was my favorite time of the year).

“Hello?”

“Where are you?!” asked my friend Karen, sounding very out of breath.

“Uh, I’m out,” I replied.

“No shit you’re out. I called your place and there was no answer. I know you never get out of bed this early unless you’re being nosy.”

Damn. She knew me so well.

“Okay fine, I’m over here on Road 97.”

“I knew it! Man, I hate you,” she said with a bit of envy.

Karen and I had been BFF’s since junior high. She was the only one who understood my sarcastic sense of humor and my other sense. She never once made me feel like a freak, which is more than I can say for all the other kids who went to school with me.

“So, what have you found out?” she demanded.

“Not much actually. Just that she was found dead in her SUV by Simon Bellamy.”

I listened
half-heartedly as Karen listed off her thoughts about what happened. I made the audible agreements here and there to make it sound good. But really I was focused on the well-defined Detective who was walking down the long paved driveway toward me and the rest of the media. I knew he had seen me, and then I heard my call waiting sound chime.

“What’s that?” Karen asked.

I pulled my iPhone down from my ear and looked at the screen.

“Hey, I’ve got to
go. I’ll call you later.” I disconnected before she could say anything else and accepted the call on my screen.

“What the hell are you doing here?”
the male caller asked.

Some body was in a bad mood.

“Nice to hear from you too,” I replied waving casually as to not draw attention to myself and alert the other media standing nearby.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

With that the call ended and I saw him moving closer to me.

Chapter Five

Detective Zachary Reynolds was pissed. He walked directly over to me, grabbed my arm and pulled me past the police line and cops doing crowd control.

“Detective! Anything new to add?” A female CNN reporter
asked running up to the barricade with a microphone in hand. The others followed her in droves.