Read Online Hollywood Notorious: A Hollywood Alphabet Thriller Series (A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Book 14) by M.Z. Kelly - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M.Z. Kelly
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hearin’ from our lawyer.”
Her threats seemed to have little impact on our slimy adversary. He laughed and asked, “Who might your lawyer be?”
“We’re represented by the legal defense team of Hermes Krump,” Mo said.
Mean Gene belly laughed. “Your lawyer sounds like a sexually transmitted disease. See you in court.”
After Mean Gene was gone, my friends insisted that I come by their trailer.
“I’ve only got a couple of minutes,” I said, wadding up my legal notice. “It’s been a long day.”
My friends’ home was a little larger than mine; a vintage coach in pristine condition that probably looked about the same as it had when it rolled off the assembly line—in 1953. I took a seat in their living room while Bernie got lots of love from Natalie. I noticed the news was on their TV.
“That crazy Reaper case you’re workin’s been all over the telly,” Natalie said. “They keep playing that tape of the girl’s body, but blur out the details at the last minute.”
“What’d he do to her?” Mo asked. My friend had a wig addiction. Tonight she was wearing something that reminded me of pictures I’d seen of Martha Washington. “According to Carmine Feckle, it was some kinda Day of the Dead murder.”
“Who?”
Mo cranked her head toward the TV. “He’s that crime guru. He just flew in from New York.
I released a breath, now remembering the reporter. Carmine Feckle was a little blowhard who managed to insert himself into every sensational murder case that came along, stirring up the public and the local politicians wherever he went. The little reporter was about forty, with brown hair, dark eyes, and the furtive expression of a small animal that bit you and then scurried off into the darkness.
Mo turned up the volume as Feckle talked about the crime, dragging out each syllable in every word he spoke for dramatic emphasis.
“Sources tell me this man they’re calling the Reaper is evil in its purest form. A corrosive substance, possibly acid, was poured on the girl’s body before she was dressed and posed.” He leaned in closer to the camera, his dark rodent eyes growing wider. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most inhumane and brutal attack I’ve ever encountered.”
I sighed. “Turn it off. I’ve heard enough.”
Mo killed the sound. “What about it, Kate? Is what he sayin’ true?”
I saw no reason to deny it, now that it was being broadcast to a nationwide TV audience. “I’m afraid so.”
“Why do you suppose the Reaper dressed her up and painted her?” Mo asked.
“Cause he’s some kinda psycho freak,” Natalie answered for me. “It’s like something from a Halloween slasher movie.”
“Except Halloween is about four months away,” I said. I looked at Mo. “We don’t know his motives. We’re just beginning to work the case.”
“I’ll put the lobe on the globe.”
“Huh?”
Mo rolled her eyes, like I was a clueless ninny. “I’ll put my ear to the ground, see what people on the streets are sayin’ ‘bout the killin’.”
Since Mo was a former pimp, she had lots of contacts and sometimes got worthwhile information from her sources. “I appreciate that.” I stood up. “I’m beat. See you both tomorrow.”
They both came over to me as I walked to the front door. “Don’t suppose you got us a mouthpiece today?” Mo asked, waving their eviction notice in my face.
“Sorry, no. I had the day from hell.”
My hefty friend looked at Natalie. “I guess that means we really do gotta go with Krump. You better give him a call, see if he can meet with us tomorrow night.”
Natalie agreed, adding, “I think our attorney needs a catchy slogan like Mean Gene’s.” Her hazel eyes widened. “Something just popped into me head. What about, ‘Don’t take a dump, call Krump’.”
“Brilliant,” I said. “Maybe he can advertise on the side of porta-potties.”
I was almost out the door when I remembered something. “I’m not sure I can
Her threats seemed to have little impact on our slimy adversary. He laughed and asked, “Who might your lawyer be?”
“We’re represented by the legal defense team of Hermes Krump,” Mo said.
Mean Gene belly laughed. “Your lawyer sounds like a sexually transmitted disease. See you in court.”
After Mean Gene was gone, my friends insisted that I come by their trailer.
“I’ve only got a couple of minutes,” I said, wadding up my legal notice. “It’s been a long day.”
My friends’ home was a little larger than mine; a vintage coach in pristine condition that probably looked about the same as it had when it rolled off the assembly line—in 1953. I took a seat in their living room while Bernie got lots of love from Natalie. I noticed the news was on their TV.
“That crazy Reaper case you’re workin’s been all over the telly,” Natalie said. “They keep playing that tape of the girl’s body, but blur out the details at the last minute.”
“What’d he do to her?” Mo asked. My friend had a wig addiction. Tonight she was wearing something that reminded me of pictures I’d seen of Martha Washington. “According to Carmine Feckle, it was some kinda Day of the Dead murder.”
“Who?”
Mo cranked her head toward the TV. “He’s that crime guru. He just flew in from New York.
I released a breath, now remembering the reporter. Carmine Feckle was a little blowhard who managed to insert himself into every sensational murder case that came along, stirring up the public and the local politicians wherever he went. The little reporter was about forty, with brown hair, dark eyes, and the furtive expression of a small animal that bit you and then scurried off into the darkness.
Mo turned up the volume as Feckle talked about the crime, dragging out each syllable in every word he spoke for dramatic emphasis.
“Sources tell me this man they’re calling the Reaper is evil in its purest form. A corrosive substance, possibly acid, was poured on the girl’s body before she was dressed and posed.” He leaned in closer to the camera, his dark rodent eyes growing wider. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most inhumane and brutal attack I’ve ever encountered.”
I sighed. “Turn it off. I’ve heard enough.”
Mo killed the sound. “What about it, Kate? Is what he sayin’ true?”
I saw no reason to deny it, now that it was being broadcast to a nationwide TV audience. “I’m afraid so.”
“Why do you suppose the Reaper dressed her up and painted her?” Mo asked.
“Cause he’s some kinda psycho freak,” Natalie answered for me. “It’s like something from a Halloween slasher movie.”
“Except Halloween is about four months away,” I said. I looked at Mo. “We don’t know his motives. We’re just beginning to work the case.”
“I’ll put the lobe on the globe.”
“Huh?”
Mo rolled her eyes, like I was a clueless ninny. “I’ll put my ear to the ground, see what people on the streets are sayin’ ‘bout the killin’.”
Since Mo was a former pimp, she had lots of contacts and sometimes got worthwhile information from her sources. “I appreciate that.” I stood up. “I’m beat. See you both tomorrow.”
They both came over to me as I walked to the front door. “Don’t suppose you got us a mouthpiece today?” Mo asked, waving their eviction notice in my face.
“Sorry, no. I had the day from hell.”
My hefty friend looked at Natalie. “I guess that means we really do gotta go with Krump. You better give him a call, see if he can meet with us tomorrow night.”
Natalie agreed, adding, “I think our attorney needs a catchy slogan like Mean Gene’s.” Her hazel eyes widened. “Something just popped into me head. What about, ‘Don’t take a dump, call Krump’.”
“Brilliant,” I said. “Maybe he can advertise on the side of porta-potties.”
I was almost out the door when I remembered something. “I’m not sure I can
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