Skylark

By Kellie Wallace

Hollywood in 1948. World war two had ended three years ago, but crime is still growing rampant on the streets. Detective Luca Valiant returns home from war a broken man, haunted by memories of his duty. He is strong willed and passionate about his job but keeps his soldier days hidden behind a thick wall. Young women start showing up around the city shot point blank in the chest, found with stolen morphine ampoules on their person. Luca fears it might be a crime ring that ruled Hollywood in the 1930s. With his partner, Duke Williams, by his side, Luca uncovers a world of drug use, money, sex and corruption he never knew existed which truly tests his sanity. When his wife Sally is murdered by Hollywood's crime lord Don Pascoe, Luca must push his demons aside to crack the case before it consumes him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rogue Phoenix Press
• Release date: Jul 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781624200403

Book preview

Skylark

Kellie Wallace

Published by Rogue Phoenix Press at Smashwords

Copyright © 2013

ISBN: 978-1-62420-040-3

Electronic rights reserved by Rogue Phoenix Press, all other rights reserved by the author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law. This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.

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Dedication

To William

Chapter One

Hollywood,

Los Angeles

1948

The purple kite frolicked in the air behind Karsten's head as he ran through the grass. The sun's golden rays warmed the nape of his neck and marshmallows clouds danced across the sky.

His new shoes were damp and dirtied from jumping in a puddle, but he didn't care. It was a perfect summer's day; perfect for ice cream by the lake or hiding in an alleyway stuffing his mouth with stolen goods from Mrs. Dane's bakery.

As he leapt through the field, inhaling the rich Hollywood air, something deep inside him dimmed. He wished he could share this wonderful day with someone. During the dying afternoon hours before bed, he would watch the other neighborhood children playing in the street or at the park with their siblings, wanting to be a part of their world, jealous of their kinship.

At eleven years old, he had not seen much of the world, but he knew it must revolve around Fern Rosenberg. He saw her sitting on the swing set across the park, swaying against the gentle breeze. Her head was down, nose in a book.

Ever since her family moved in next door six months ago, he couldn't understand why she never played with the other children, often sitting alone reading a book. He remembered his mother telling his father she and her family were survivors of a horrible camp in Poland. The girl barely survived, fleeing the country with her aunt and uncle to start a better life.

He never had the courage to talk to her, usually succumbing to inaudible mumbles before he walked away embarrassed.

Karsten blew out a breath of self-encouragement and arched his back. He was going to do it today. He walked across the park, his stomach rolling nervously. Fern didn't acknowledge him until his figure cast a shadow across her book. She looked up, her eyes thinning against the glare. Hello. Can I help you?

Karsten opened his mouth but no sound came out, his tongue turning to cement. A veil of transparency fell over Fern's eyes; she was losing interest.

Um, my name is Karsten. I am in your math class at school.

You sit behind me. Don't you live next door?

I do.

I often see you play by yourself on the street sometimes, Fern said. Why don't you ask other kids to join you?

I don't know how.

Why?

I'm too scared they will say no.

Surely that doesn't matter. You can ask me now.

Karsten looked at the kite dangling from his fingers, wondering if asking her to play was a bad idea. You want to fly the kite with me?

Fern's lips rose into a smile and she laughed. I should be reading. My uncle will quiz me when I get home, but I would very much like to fly the kite with you.

Karsten watched Fern rise from the swing and gently lay her book on the grass next to her bag. She repositioned the clips in her brown hair and grabbed the kite string from his grasp. Her hands were soft. The wind is picking up. Are you ready?

Yes.

The children bolted across the park, watching the kite bellow in the air. Other neighborhood children joined them, giggling at the sight of it kicking and twisting like a captured bird. Karsten and Fern spent the rest of the afternoon under the warm sun, walking home muddy and exhausted. They decided to cut through a park, crying out in delight at the sight of a mother duck waddling with her ducklings. She saw the children and scuttled away, her babies following in haste.

Let's follow her! Karsten cried. Maybe she has more.

Fern followed him with the kite in her hand, chasing after him through the thick underbrush. Slow down!

She saw him disappear deeper into the brush, his heavy footfall breaking through the silence of the early evening. In a blink of an eye he was gone. Fern kept running. She jumped over a log, nearly running into him as he stood still staring at the ground. Oomph! Karsten, I nearly ran into you. She pulled at his sleeve, noticing his face had gone white. What is it?

He pointed a shaky finger to the lush ground, his eyes wide. Fern followed his gaze and noticed white fur, speckled with blood against the twigs and other debris. She took a step closer and let out a scream.

Lying in a leafy tomb, a woman lay dead, her blonde hair messy and dusted with leaves. Her cold blue eyes frozen, her red lips open in an eternal scream.

Chapter Two

Warm blood splashed into Luca's mouth as he threw angry fists into an enemy soldier. His bloodied hands ached and bled, and within a few minutes the man's face was gone.

Someone gripped Luca's shoulder from behind and he instantly stilled. He rose to his feet, straightening his green US Army uniform and stared at the bloodied German soldier lying limp on the street. Around him he felt the stares of his fellow men burn into his back.

Luca shivered in the chill, but it was the shame on his cheeks that warmed his body. He withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood splatter off his face. The steel knife at his hip winked in the sunlight.

Luca turned his back on the body, suddenly repulsed by its appearance. He heard some shouting in the crowd and saw an enemy soldier break through, a silver pistol drawn. His eyes were wide and menacing, his lips pulled back into a sneer. The gun was aimed at Luca's chest.

You killed my men, the man snarled. The American soldier had no time to react, watching in slow motion as the German pulled the trigger. Luca watched his chest open up in an explosion of blood and bone.

As he opened his mouth to scream, Luca woke and found himself in bed, wrapped in his bed sheets. He looked to Sally's side and found it was empty. He climbed out of bed, swaying on his feet like a newborn foal.

Luca steadied himself, laying a hand on the nightstand. Once his head stopped spinning, he bent down and opened up the bottom drawer, fishing out a bottle of scotch.

After returning home from war in 1945, he came back a different man. His nights were fraught by nightmares and he feared sleep, frightened of seeing the faces of the men he killed. His police issued Colt revolver hung in its holster over the bed. He joined the police force on a whim when he returned and cemented his spot in the Los Angeles Police department.

But it was his wife Sally who was his saving grace, remaining faithful and loyal to him during his time away. As if she materialized from his thoughts, she appeared in the doorway, dressed in a pink nightgown. She held a mug of tea, ribbons of steam curling around her face. You're up. I was hoping to get to you before you got out of bed.

He smiled as she entered; admiring how her blonde hair fell loose over her shoulders and her cheeks blushed pink. They married the night before his draft, meeting six months before at a dance. A picture of her hidden within the folds of his uniform kept him alive in France.

Sally walked up to him, her gaze dropping to the bottle of scotch in his hands. A frown settled upon her brow. Luca, I thought you removed all the alcohol. Where did you get that one?

A man has his secrets.

Sally opened up her hand. Give it to me.

Luca regrettably handed his wife the bottle.

Now get back into bed, she ordered. I'll stay with you until you fall asleep.

Luca obeyed, crawling into the warm sheets. She rested a hip against on the edge of the bed and looked down at him, her blue eyes stark against the dim room. I'm worried about you, Luca. Your nightmares have gotten worse. I wish you would take some time off work and rest. You have been on your feet since getting back from France.

We have been busy at the precinct, honey, he explained. You know we cannot afford for me to take time off.

Her lips formed a thin line and she crossed her arms over her chest. I don't care. I will try and make an appointment for you with Doctor Arnold this week.

Luca opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by the vibratos call of the telephone in the hallway. Sally looked angry as her eyes fell upon the clock on the wall. It's eleven pm. Who could that be?

Luca flew out of bed and ran into hallway, picking up the phone in haste. Detective Valiant.

~ * ~

Luca couldn't keep his eyes off the dead woman's open mouth. Her ruby stained lips were contorted into a scream. His gaze dropped to the white fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders, stained with blood. She was missing one shoe, the remaining one covered in mud, unhinged off her heel. One gunshot to her chest bled heavily through her midnight blue gown.

Pretty one, isn't she?

Luca turned at the sound of the voice, finding his partner Duke Williams beside him in a tan coat and hat. Two kids found her this afternoon.

He returned his gaze to the dead woman. Do they know who she is?

Williams shook his head. No one knows. I have uniforms canvasing the neighborhood, but I doubt they will find anything. Look at how she is dressed. She's not from around here.

The former soldier dropped to his haunches and withdrew a pencil from his pocket. He pulled back a lock of blonde hair from her face. She was young, her cheeks dusted with rouge she probably stole from her mother's make up.

She had no purse on her, or identity card, Williams explained. The coroner will be down here to conduct a thorough examination within the hour.

Luca stole a glance at the white Hollywood land sign above him, the lettering bright against the dark hills. He didn't understand why so many murders were conducted under the sign, as though the killers were trying to be symbolic. He turned away, squinting against the blinking lights of the half a dozen cop cars. Despite the time, there were a large number of spectators craning their necks to see the victim. Has any evidence been found? Luca asked. A shell casing or gun?

His partner walked up beside him. I was waiting for you. I had a quick scan around the body but I couldn't find anything.

Has the photographer been around yet?

Yeah.

Alright, I'll take a look around. Do you have a flashlight?

Williams nodded, pulling one out from his inner jacket. I'll interview some of these nosy Nora's over here. See if they saw anything.

Luca walked off towards the body. This was the second girl they found in a matter of weeks, and it was always the same MO: young blonde woman, well dressed, fine clothes, gunshot to the chest. He wondered what brought someone to murder her. What did she do?

He scanned the area, the yellow light bouncing off bushes and broken twigs. She wasn't murdered here, but definitely dumped. Someone wanted her to be found. Luca turned and walked the perimeter, heading south towards the end of the park. It wasn't rare to find evidence this far from the body, particularly if the girl struggled. The moon shone above him, concealed by the lights of the city. He heard glasses clinking and music blaring from a dance club down the road. It would be hard to hear someone screaming with the loud music and drunks.

As Luca scanned the area, his light hit an obscure object lying underneath a bush. It glistened under the beam of light. He