Hunted In Hollywood Read online

  Contents

  Hunted In Hollywood

  Disclaimer

  Dedication

  Get A FREE BOOK!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  DETECTIVE FLINT

  Book 2:

  Hunted In Hollywood

  By

  J.T. Dawson

  &

  Nancy McGovern

  Rights & Disclaimer

  This is entirely a work of fiction. All people, places and events contained have been completely fabricated by the author. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are completely coincidental.

  Detective Flint Copyright © 2016 J.T. Dawson & Nancy McGovern

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any manner or used in any way without advanced written permission by the author.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to those who read & enjoyed the first in this series. We hope you like this one, too!

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  To receive updates & special offers on this series PLUS A FREE STORY, please sign up for Nancy McGovern’s newsletter by CLICKING HERE!

  Chapter 1

  New Case

  Flint handed an empty white plate to a middle-aged Chinese woman, who looked at him with fascinated eyes.

  “Detective Flint,” she said, taking the plate, “you will send my children to college.”

  Flint grinned. Casting his eyes around the small room with yellow and white walls, he held back a deep burp. “You keep cooking that fried rice the way you do and I'll send your kids to medical school,” Flint joked back. What the heck, he thought, why not have a little humor? It was raining outside, the day was late and peaceful, and more importantly, he and Tori had just wrapped up a homicide case within forty-eight hours. Tori was coming along—like a rock being rolled through cement, but she was coming along.

  “I will bring you more tea,” the Chinese woman told Flint. Looking at Tori she shook her head. “You not like our food?”

  Tori tensed up in her chair. Carefully, she glanced down at her plate. The fried rice and sweet and sour chicken stared up at her. “Uh... it's good, really. I've… I'll eat, I promise.”

  Flint snatched a toothpick from the pocket of the gray button up shirt he was wearing. “What's eating you?” he asked Tori, popping the toothpick in his mouth.

  Tori didn't answer Flint. Instead, she looked around the empty dining room and listened to the rain fall outside. The Chinese restaurant was housed in an old burger shack that still smelled of deep fried meat. At least, she thought, the place was located on a stretch of road over looking the beach. “Why do you pick places like this, Flint?” she finally said.

  Flint rolled his eyes. “Arnold, just eat,” he fussed. At least, Flint thought, his partner was wearing decent clothing for once. Actually, the gray blouse Tori was wearing over a long black skirt made her seem intelligent and... yeah, somewhat professional.

  Tori looked down at her plate. “I really goofed, didn't I?” she sighed.

  Ah, Flint thought, catching a glimpse of what was eating at his partner. “Hey, you did good, Arnold. So far you've solved two cases. The Lila Crastdale case was one for the books, too. We shook up City Hall and now new elections are going to be held. I doubt we'll get an honest Mayor, but hey, we put a dent in things.”

  “You solved two cases,” Tori replied miserably. “Flint, you figured out that a stupid street thug climbed into the bathroom ceiling at the bank, waited until the bank closed, killed the manager, and took off with the cash. I... I thought it was a crime organization of some sort. Me and my stupid imagination.”

  “Hey,” Flint scolded Tori, “I have years of experience. Don't kick yourself, Arnold. I just happened to check out the bathroom in the bank and saw some black skid marks on the bathroom wall.”

  “Maybe,” Tori said with another sigh, “but you sure tracked down the killer in record time.”

  Flint chewed on his tooth pick. “Fingerprints were left at the scene, Arnold. It wasn't brain surgery. Now eat.”

  “Sure,” Tori said, picking up her fork. Stabbing a piece of sweet and sour chicken, she looked at Flint. Flint nodded his head for her to eat. “Okay, okay,” she said.

  Relaxing in his seat, Flint looked away from Tori. He liked having the dining room to himself. The falling rain outside, mixing in with the stormy Pacific Ocean, have the late day a kind of cozy feel that only southern California people understood. “I think I might go home, watch an old movie, and sleep until next year,” he said through a yawn.

  Tori nibbled on her chicken. “I thought if I changed the way I dressed it would help... boy, was I wrong,” she said. “I showed up at the bank dressed like a stealth agent, and what did I do? I tripped all over my feet.”

  “Only once,” Flint said.

  “Straight into Chief Cunningham, who just happened to be holding a very hot cup of coffee, while he was talking to an FBI agent.” Tori’s voice cracked. Throwing down her fork, she placed her hands over her face. “He hates me.”

  “Who? Cunningham or Agent Dork?”

  “Knock it off,” Tori snapped. “And the answer is... both.”

  Flint grinned again. “Hey, look on the bright side, at least you helped the Chief finally learn how to yell again. Those anger management courses he was taking surely wasn't helping him any. You did the Chief a favor, Arnold.”

  Tori lowered her hands, growled at Flint, picked up her fork, and threw it at him. “And I guess I'm giving his dry cleaners good business, too, you jerk.”

  Flint dodged the flying fork. He began to tease Tori a little more, when the cell phone in Tori's green purse rang. “Better answer that,” Flint said.

  Tori rolled her eyes. “Better not be a telemarketer,” she said, then snatched her purse up off the table and fished out a purple cell phone. She gave Flint a Not-A-Word look. “It's the Chief,” she told Flint, as she read the incoming call number.

  “Toss it here,” Flint said.

  Tori handed Flint the cell phone. “I hope he's still not mad.”

  “Yeah, Chief,” Flint said, answering the call. Spitting the toothpick in his mouth out, he listened to Chief Cunningham speak. “Be at the station in twenty minutes?... Sure thing... What's up? Sure, I get it. Twenty minutes.” Flint ended the call and passed Tori back her cell phone. “Chief wants to see us.”

  “I'm fired,” Tori mumbled under her breath.

  “You're not fired,” Flint said as he stood up. “Arnold, I regret to say this, but the Chief actually has hope for you. Now come on.”

  “Really?” Tori perked up. “Hey, that's great news. I mean, I know I'm still a little green and all, but it's like you said, I'm coming along.”

  “Just pay the bill,” Flint said, putting on a gray overcoat.

  “Me? But... you... oh, fine,” Tori complained. Standing up, she slapped on a white rain jacket and walked up to the cashier stand. “You guys really need a buffet,” she told a young Chinese woman. “How much is the damage?”

  “Forty-two dollars and twenty-nine cents,” the young Chinese woman said, picking up a white charge ticket. “Detective Flint likes our food.” She smiled at Tori.

  “Forty-two? Flint!” Tori yelled.

  Flint paused at the front door. “Arnold,” he said, popping another toothpick in his mouth, “let this be a learning lesson for you. Always claim dutch before going to a Chinese restaurant with me.”

  “I'll claim a hammer upside of your head,” Tori grumbled. Pulling out her credit card, she watched Flint walk outside. “Paybacks,” she promised.

 
Outside, Flint walked to his car, allowing the falling rain to wet his hair and face. Looking toward the west, he stared at the Pacific Ocean. The waves were powerful, crashing down onto the shore with an angry motion. A few brave surfers were riding the waves, some making it, some wiping out. But soon, Flint knew, watching darkness begin to steal the daylight away, the night would run the surfers back onto dry land. Hoping the rain would last through the night, Flint allowed each rain droplet to strike his face and refresh him. Whatever Chief Cunningham wanted, he thought, had to be something simple. A peaceful night awaited him, or so he hoped.

  *****

  “No way,” Flint objected in a stern tone. Leaning against the inside door, he shook his head at Chief Cunningham. “Chief, I'm not going to babysit a spoiled brat who thinks the red carpet is meant only for her.”

  Chief Cunningham understood Flint's frustration. Sitting on the edge of his desk he tossed a quick glance at Tori. She was sitting in her normal chair, staring at him with anxious eyes. “Relax,” he told her. “The coffee stain came out of my suit.”

  “Oh, good,” Tori said, releasing a deep breath.

  “Flint,” Chief Cunningham said, feeling exhausted from a long day, “Haley Frost - if that's her real name - is an up and coming actress singer type that is very popular on the big screen right now. Someday this young woman will fizzle out, but until she does the studio is going to make as much money off of her as possible and she is going to ride her small wave of fame as long as possible. Until then, we have to protect her.”

  “Do we know who is sending the death threats?” Tori asked. Expecting to be barked at for asking a question, Tori was relieved when Chief Cunningham focused on her question as a professional.

  “Not yet, detective,” he said. “That's your job. I want you and Flint glued to this young woman.”

  “Good grief,” Flint said. “Chief, I think it's better if me and my partner stick to the streets.”

  “Nothing doing,” Looking down at his tired gray suit, Chief Cunningham shook his head. “Flint, I could put anyone on this detail, but I want you and Arnold. Is that clear?”

  “Why?” Flint insisted.

  Chief Cunningham stood up, walked behind his desk, and sat down. “Haley Frost is the niece of a friend of mine back in New York, okay. I owe the guy for saving my life once. He called me and asked for a favor. I told him I would put my best man... and woman... on the job.” Chief Cunningham paused, his face softening. “Guys, do this as a favor for me.”

  “Of course, Chief,” Tori said. “We're a team.”

  Flint blew out a long stream of air, feeling himself caving in. “Yeah, we're a team. You got a file on her?”

  Chief Cunningham smiled. Reaching down he picked up a brown file marked Confidential. He tossed the file to Tori. Instead of Flint snatching the file away from her, like he would have done a few months before, he walked over to her and began reading over her shoulder.

  Tori realized that she was an in-person now. Feeling a sense of pride and relief, she went over the file with Flint. “Pretty girl,” she said. “Age, twenty-one. Blonde hair. Looks like a modern-day Lana Turner.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Flint said. After reading the two letters holding the death threats he asked, “Who is this girl's agent?”

  “Uh... let's see,” Tori said, searching for the information. “Ah, here we are. Mandy Garland.”

  “Chief, where is our princess right now?” Flint asked.

  “At her house up on Brown Canyon road. I have a blue and white at her house waiting for you two to arrive.”

  “Is anyone with her?” Tori asked.

  “Many Garland,” Chief Cunningham answered. “Listen, you two, there are a lot of psychos out there that go nuts over young, pretty actresses. I don't need to remind you two to use extreme caution as at all times. Your safety is my concern.”

  Tori bent down and patted her ankle. “I'm careful, Chief.”

  Flint patted his service gun resting on a brown holster sitting against his right hip. “You're not thinking the person sending the death threats is a nerdy sixteen-year-old kid who the cheerleaders make fun of, are you?” he asked, reading the concern in Chief Cunningham's eyes.

  Chief Cunningham shook his head. “All fan mail sent to Haley Frost never reaches her personally. The letters with the death threats written on them were found in her personal Post Office box. Which means whoever is sending the death threats knows her personally.”

  Flint walked back the office door and leaned against it. “Arnold--”

  “I'll get the names of everyone Haley Frost is acquainted with, besides those already on the list in this file,” Tori said. Standing up, she tucked the file in her purse. “Chief, is she dating anyone?”

  Chief Cunningham shook his head. “Not that I'm aware of. But check into it.”

  “One last thing,” Flint asked, “when did this girl arrive in Los Angeles? And what did she do in New York before getting out here?”

  “She was performing in some small plays back in New York,” the Chief said. “She was noticed by a talent agent, and relocated to Los Angeles a few months ago.”

  “Got it,” Flint said. “Ready?” he asked Tori.

  Tori nodded. This was going to be her kind of case. Any case that pushed her closer to the studios she clung to. Not that she would give up being a detective to become a movie star, though, right? Tori smiled as she walked out of Chief Cunningham's office.

  Well, she thought, maybe.

  Flint nudged her with his elbow. “I know what you're thinking,” he told her, “knock it off.”

  “A girl can dream.” Tori smiled and nudged Flint back.

  Flint sighed. “I'll ask for your autograph later.”

  After driving up into the wet Canyons, Flint slowed down as he pushed his car up dangerously winding roads. Watching the windshield wipers fight with the rain, he leaned forward on the steering wheel in order to see better. “Rain really picked up.”

  “I checked the weather on my phone,” Tori said. “That tropical storm from Mexico is moving over us. The weather report said the storm is stalled, so we might see this rain last a couple of days. It's already flooding in some areas.”

  “I wasn't even aware a tropical storm was in Mexico,” Flint said, easing off the gas pedal. Slowly passing homes tucked away in the canyons hovering over Los Angeles, Flint focused on his driving. “Some of these homes cost more than those mansions down on Mansion lane.”

  “I know,” Tori said, staring out of the passenger window.

  The canyons were wet, dark, and deadly. Down below, Los Angeles was glittering in the wet night like a dying ship being pulled under a deadly wave. Tori felt these thoughts attack her mind, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  She looked over at Flint. Good old, Flint, nothing ever bothered him. No sir, not Flint.

  “The killer could be hiding anywhere,” Flint warned.

  So much for good old reliable Flint. “You really know how to make a woman feel safe, Flint. And besides, the person sending the death threats isn't a killer... yet.”

  Flint glanced at her. “Anyone sending a death threat is already a killer in my book, Arnold. Now listen to me, whoever the killer is, he or she could have killed Haley Frost by now. The killer could be playing a sick game. Everyone, and I mean, everyone is a suspect, are we clear?”

  “I understand.”

  “Arnold, people can sweet talk candy from a toddler. I'm not saying you're gullible, but you need to train your mind to be critical of everyone, not matter who they are,”

  Tori didn't take offense to Flint's words. In all honesty, she was gullible. When someone was nice to her, she felt the need to believe that person was innocent. Knowing that her partner was simply trying to build her detective skills, Tori nodded. “Thick skin, got it.”

  “It's more than having thick skin, though,” Flint said. “It's the ability to read people like a book. Sometimes it takes a while to get through a b
ook, though. So never draw a conclusion until you read the very last page. The writer can always have a surprise ending waiting for you.”

  Tori looked back out of the passenger window. “Lila Crastdale seemed so sweet at first, didn’t she? A little insane, maybe, but harmless. But she wasn't harmless, was she? No one is harmless.”

  “That's right.”

  Staring out at the dark canyons, Tori felt another chill run down her spine. “Hey, Flint?”

  “Yeah?”

  “When we get the time, take me to the shooting range and teach me to shoot, okay,” Tori said.

  Flint glanced over at her again. “You okay, Arnold?”

  “I'm fine,” Tori said, “but if a killer ever comes at me and I can't shoot straight, I won't be fine. I'll be dead.”

  “You're learning,” Flint said, pushing his car higher up into the canyons.

  When they reached the designated address, he spotted a cop car parked in front of a gray metal gate standing guard at the entrance of a concrete driveway. Rolling down the driver's side window, Flint eased up to the cop car. “Anything?” he asked a bored looking young man with short black hair.

  The young man, sitting in the cop car, shook his head. “With this rain, who can tell? I made two patrols around the house, but if anyone is hiding out there, I can't spot him.”

  “What's the code to the gate?” Flint asked.

  “First, you need to call Mandy Garland and let her know you're here. She'll buzz you in,” the young man said, reaching out his hand and handing Flint a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. “Well, if it's okay, I'll take off now.”

  “Take off,” Flint said. Rolling up the driver’s window, he handed Tori the piece of paper. “Give Mandy Garland a call.”

  Tori took the piece of paper, read the phone number, and made the call. “Yes, this is Detective Flint and Arnold. You're expecting us and--”

  “What?” Flint asked.

  Tori shrugged her shoulders. “She hung up on me. Kinda rude.”