Hollywood Blood: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller by M.Z. Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t meant to have anyone in my life. The department was full of older, single women with thickening waistlines, expanding hips, and nicknames I tried to ignore. I saw myself as one of these women, wearing a green dress with frizzy gray hair, as I picked up the phone.
    I listened for a moment as Charlie came on the line. “Be right there,” I said, ending the call.
    Jack must have seen the shock on my face or maybe jus t the despair. “What is it?”
    I looked over at him, pulling the sheet tighter around me. “Karma’s fiancé, Love Dawg. He was murdered last night.”
    ***
    Bernie and I found Charlie, Pearl, and a half-dozen police cruisers at Love Dawg’s estate. The gate was open. I flashed my badge to one of the uniforms and parked Olive in the expansive driveway.
    I found Charlie and Pearl just inside the sprawling modern residence. Skully wasn’t there yet, and the press hadn’t been alerted. I was thankful for small favors.
    “The crime scene is upstairs,” Charlie said, his tired brown eyes finding me. “But first, the housekeeper has an interesting story to tell.”
    I followed him into the living room wh ile Bernie waited with Pearl and one of the responding officers. I was introduced to a sad looking woman of about fifty. She wore a robe and clutched rosary beads with both hands.
    “Ms. Simmental, this is my partner, Detective Sexton,” Charlie said. “Can you tell her what you told me happened last night?”
    The housekeeper looked at me as I bent down to her, nodding encouragement. Even before she spoke, it was obvious that she was terrified.
    “Four women come into my room,” she began in broken English. “I no harm nobody so I don’t know why they bother me. I asleep. They wake me. Tie my hands and feet, place rag in my mouth.”
    “Did they say anything?” I asked.
    Her gaze drifted away. She whispered a prayer, looked back at me. “One woman, she tell me something bad. She say she is the…angel de la muerte.”
    I looked at Cha rlie as he translated what I’d already guessed. “The angel of death.”
    After further discussion, the maid said she was sure the intruders were all women, even though they were dressed in black and wearing some kind of masks. The housekeeper had freed herself early this morning and found Love Dawg’s body in his bedroom.
    After that, I couldn’t understand much of what she tried to tell us about the murder scene because it was all hysterics and prayers. All I knew was that the crime scene wouldn’t be pretty.
    I slipped on gloves and paper booties before Charlie led me up the stairs to the rapper’s bedroom. We moved through the doorway and I pushed down the bile rising in my throat. The scene was worse than anything I could have imagined.
    We found Trevon Jackson, the rapper’s real name, in the sprawling master suite in his bed. He was naked and it looked like his clothes had been cut off. His arms and legs were tied to the bed posts with leather straps. There was blood everywhere.
    I examined the body, seeing there were numerous cuts on the victim’s arms, legs, and pubic region, including one that had severed his penis. The detached organ had been either tossed or fallen onto the floor. Several stab wounds had punctured the victim’s chest and stomach, the most prominent being a wound in his lower chest where a large carving knife remained embedded.
    I took a moment and counted six separate entry wounds, but knew there were probably more. I then focused on the blood spray covering the wall and ceiling behind the victim. There was writing on the wall. Something, probably an artist’s paintbrush, had been used to write the words in the victim’s blood.
    “My soul is burning,” I said, reading the words out loud .
    Charlie pointed out the tarot card on the floor below the blood and writing. “Same as the one you found in the street outside your mom’s house. No writing on the card, just the wall.”
    Charlie and I met up with Pearl back in