Helena Goes to Hollywood: Helena Morris Mystery, #1

By CC Dragon

Helena Goes to Hollywood

Helena Morris Mystery 1

 

Martial arts instructor Helena Morris has a few weaknesses. One is her FBI agent ex-husband who she avoids. The other is her superstar sister Sonia who is divorcing a soap star hunk of a husband. When Sonia needs protection from a stalker, Helena finds herself playing bodyguard and investigator. Glitz and glamour aren’t her style but she must gain full entry into her sister’s world to keep her safe!

 

It’s hard to know who to trust when half the suspects are professional actors with out of control egos. A murder too close for comfort stuns everyone and Hel knows her sister is probably next. Working the case with a little help from her still interested ex, a hunky LAPD detective, and other helpful friends, she has to track down rabid fans and clear jealous co-stars to get at the killer. With so many suspects, she’ll have to outsmart them all while not pissing off the LAPD to get a step ahead of the killer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cheryl Dragon
• Release date: Mar 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781507002674

CC Dragon

Author of Cozy Mysteries and Romantic Suspense. Loyal Chicago girl who loves deep dish pizza, the Cubs, and The Lake! Addicted to amateur sleuths :)

Book preview

Chapter One

My newest self-defense class waited in the main gym but the blaring television in the break room caught my attention. I poked my head to see what the staff found so interesting. My sister’s soap opera played on the screen.

You have nothing better to do? I rolled my eyes at them.

It’s slow right now. This is addictive! one of the male instructors shrugged.

I guess it’s better than reality TV. If my sister weren’t crying hysterically in the scene, I might’ve been tempted to watch a bit more. I’ve got a class.

I continued on to training room one and got my first look at my new students. A few resembled a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. All of five foot seven and a size ten, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing simple workout clothes, I wasn’t really an intimidating image. But looks could be deceiving. I had plenty to teach them.

Welcome to Women’s Self Defense. I’m Helena and I’ll be your main instructor. Some of you are here just in case. Vegas is a big city and you never know what’ll happen. But some of you have already had to defend yourself in an attack and maybe it didn’t go so well. Maybe you were mugged...or worse...

A few of the women’s eyes dropped as they fidgeted. Body language said so much but that was a lesson for another day.

Anyone want to share? I eyed the women who were tense at the idea of an attack.

One woman tentatively raised her hand. About my age, I pegged her at forty but there was fear in her eyes.

Go ahead, I nodded, encouragingly.

I was coming home late from work. A man was by the garage but I didn’t see him. I got inside and he followed me. As soon as I opened the door and turned the alarm off, he grabbed me. I just—

Froze? I supplied.

She nodded, the motion quick and jerky as if she were still afraid. Her voice shook as she continued. He started to drag me inside. I managed to hit the panic button on my alarm panel and a neighbor came over to see what was going on. Her sentence was punctuated with a shiver.

I’m glad it had a happy ending. I gave her a smile of reassurance then continued. Freezing is very common. Most of us think if we’re in that situation we’ll scream and fight. We’ll scratch and bite. We’ll do anything to get free. I walked through the rows of women standing around waiting to learn to kick butt.

Isn’t that the fight or flight response we all have? one woman asked.

That’s the thing. The psychologists want us to believe it’s instinctive, that when something happens our inner cavewoman will come out to fight the saber tooth tiger. Some people do react that way. I don’t know about you, but the closest I ever got to a tiger was Siegfried and Roy’s old show.

Their smiles told me my message got through.

Anyone can freeze when the unexpected happens. It’s normal. You’re not ready for it. That’s shock and our bodies shut down as a defense. Most of us don’t fight with our fists and no argument is going to save you from this type of attack. So you’re here to learn how to fight. Make no mistake, that’s the only way to get away. You have to be willing to hurt someone else to save yourself. In this class you’ll learn how to override those instincts to freeze up or be nice so you can defend yourself.

What about flight? a petite blonde asked.

"If your attacker isn’t fleeing, then you probably won’t get the chance. If some guy comes up and snatches your purse, let him go. He doesn’t want you. He wants money. Cancel your credit cards, get a new license, file a police report and be glad that’s all he wanted. This class is about defending yourself, your life. So, to be clear, there’s no or in our class. Your only response is to fight. Now if a guy snatches my purse he’ll end up with a broken arm and bruised balls."

They smiled and soaked in the advice I’d given hundreds of times. I admired these women for taking their lives into their own hands. It wouldn’t be easy to break that mental block. The physical techniques were never as hard as changing their mindset. Nice girls don’t hit or kick. Society told women to be sweet but that didn’t always work.

"I’ve been studying martial arts since college. I have multiple black belts. The techniques I’ll teach you will work with a home intruder or an abusive husband. The rules are the same—your life is the only thing that matters."

I saw a few eyes widen with a question.

Okay, one exception. If you have children, they can be your priority. But if you’re not alive, who protects them? Now, if your children are having any bully issues, we have classes geared for children as well. That’s a different situation. So let’s focus on our own safety and get started with some basic moves and techniques.

As I walked to the front Max stuck his head into the room. Hel, you need to see this.

What? I glared at him.

I had a rule about interruptions. Granted, it was a small martial arts studio but I hated to keep my students waiting. Watching my sister’s soap opera was not an emergency.

"Your cell is going nonstop and your sister is all over E!" Max shrugged.

Who is your sister? one woman asked.

Excuse me for one minute. I walked out without answering the question.

Within seconds I felt the students following me.

Why did celebrity and gossip get more enthusiasm than self-defense? I entered the employee break room with Max and the class behind me. It didn’t take long for the story to replay.

Sonia Flynn is moving on up to primetime and leaving her hubby in soapland. The couple’s divorce has been confirmed and while it’s not yet final, papers have been filed. The popular soap super couple split six months ago and has avoided the public in recent weeks. Sonia can’t avoid publicizing her new show set to debut this fall! Meanwhile Danny Flynn has been seen getting cozy with another costar.

You didn’t tell me they broke up, Max said.

I shrugged. It’s family stuff.

I grabbed my cell and scrolled to see who had called. Part of me knew I should keep the phone on me but during a workout or class, it wasn’t practical.

She’s so pretty. I love Sonia Flynn. I can’t believe you’re her sister! The petite blonde meant well as she gushed.

That sort of backhanded remark was normal in my world. I didn’t look like Sonia. We were as opposite as sisters could be. But I had no desire to trade places.

"I can’t believe she’s leaving the soap and they’re getting divorced," someone from the back commented.

I hit the screen again and found five missed calls from my sister but no voicemail. Only one text message from Sonia: I think I have a stalker.

I pocketed the phone. Max, you need to take my class. I have to go.

What’s wrong? the young black belt asked.

I just need to check on my sister. I’ll be back in a week, maybe two. Sonia never asked for help. For small stuff she’d whine until someone did something, but if it was a big deal she downplayed it. With anyone else I would have been overreacting but I knew better when it came to Sonia.

You’re going to Hollywood? How fun to be an insider! another woman grinned like I’d won a trip.

You’re in good hands. Good luck, ladies! I grabbed my stuff and headed out.

I was no insider and Hollywood wasn’t fun. It was hell and I stood out like an angel with a shiny halo.

Hollywood called to people in search of fame and fortune. My sister had both. As far as I was concerned, she could keep it. Now she’d attracted trouble. That I couldn’t ignore. I just hoped it turned out to be nothing but hollow threats.

I steered my car off the freeway after four hours of driving too fast in my Mustang convertible. It was a treat I’d bought right after my divorce when I moved to Vegas. I had no buyer’s remorse for any of those decisions, especially the divorce.

As I pulled into Sonia’s driveway I had to admit that the mansions didn’t impress me anymore. Here normal rules did not apply. I grabbed my hastily packed suitcase and retrieved the one essential item. With an FBI agent for an ex-husband, I’d learned to use a gun for protection. I preferred hand-to-hand but since I had no clue what type of stalker my sister had, I slid the Glock into the holster at the small of my back.

Also thanks to the ex, I’d lived in a lot of places so I’d learned to adapt without all the stress. However, this was the one place I didn’t belong. Most stars had egos bigger than a Kardashian ass. Sonia was no exception. I climbed the stairs to my sister’s Brentwood mansion and rang the doorbell.

No one else would put up with her or protect her like I would. That’s family. Until I knew the details, I’d take no chances but if this was a stunt I’d be in Vegas for my evening class. Sonia was ten years younger and while we’d had a normal Midwestern upbringing, she’d gone Hollywood in a big bad ugly way. Sometimes she needed attention and I wasn’t really the type to provide it for less than legitimate reasons.

The door opened and a tall muscular black man I didn’t recognize stood there wearing a peach shirt and tight white jeans. He stared me down critically and I returned the stare with equal distrust.

I fought the impulse to grab my gun.

I expected one of the rotating Latina housekeepers Sonia employed, not this. I quickly assessed him from the peach nail polish to the lip gloss. Tall and broad shouldered, he had muscle but the man’s posture signaled he wasn’t looking for a fight.

You must be Sonia’s sister. Drab is right. She said you had no more fashion sense than to hide your gun. I have the same problem but mine is bigger. He propped a fist on his hip. We’re having a little pity party. Room for one more.

I’m Helena Morris. How is she doing? I extended a hand in greeting, completely ignoring his less than stellar judgment on sense of style. This man was not much protection for Sonia but at least she wasn’t totally alone.

Instead of shaking my hand the tall dark mystery man pulled me into a bear hug. A mess. About time you got here.

I got on the road as soon as I got her text. She needs to be less blasé about these things. I eased back. Yeah, I wasn’t really the hugging strangers type. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.

"Jordan, the wardrobe master of the fabulous new show Fed Files. He gave a dramatic bow. Come in."

Oh boy...this was going to be a blast.

Rolling my suitcase along, I walked into the mega mansion. Sonia’s new TV show had taken over her world but it was the soap that had paid for her rise to a decent status by Hollywood estimations. Sonia worked hard at her acting career but she had tunnel vision. Her status and work ruled her life.

And—whoa—she looked like hell.

The normally perky blue-eyed blonde looked hollow. Sonia lay limp on the white sofa hugging her loyal toy poodle Fluffy in a death grip. Not that I was anything to fawn over but Sonia always looked photo shoot ready. Now I was worried.

I leaned to Jordan. Is that really her? I haven’t seen her without makeup since she was twelve.

He nodded. She cleans up good for the cameras but she’s lucky to get work at her age. Thirty in Hollywood can be iffy.

I’m forty. Do I get the senior discount?

Humor was how I coped with Tinseltown up close. The last eight years living in Vegas had been convenient. It was drivable so I could do short trips and avoid an overdose of crazy.

Jordan shook his bald head. No discounts unless you’re willing to have it taped for a reality show. But you might want to sign up for fashion rehab first.

Sure, that’s my goal in life. My jeans and T-shirt were already offending the Hollywood crowd. I almost let a smile slip but I focused on the reason for my trip.

Hi, Sonia, I said softly, in that voice you use on animals and small children.

She looked up as if surprised.

Hel, she cried and clambered off the couch to pull me into a tight hug.

It’s okay, I replied, still in that same soothing voice and eased her back to the massive couch. Her faithful dog licked her face in agreement with me.

What are you doing here? Sonia took a deep breath and smiled big.

Just like my sister to recover in seconds.

"You texted me that you have a stalker. Your personal life is all over E! And then you didn’t answer your phone when I called from the road. You think I’m going to do nothing? Be glad I didn't send the police. I walked around the living room; nothing seemed out of place. No sign of intruders. Two empty vodka bottles on the wet bar. What happened?"

Nothing really. I’d been drinking when I texted you. She cuddled her crazy dog.

Cut the crap, Sonia, I said.

"It’s nothing. I got spooked. At first it was a few odd letters from angry fans of the soap. More kept coming. They’re mad I’m leaving the show and won’t watch Fed Files. They hate me." She sniffed.

Did you turn the letters over to the show's security? It wasn't the first time fans got rabid or obsessed with my sister.

She didn’t need me to hold her hands over bad fan mail. Sonia knew that drill. My ex had walked her through it twice. This was the kind of situation that made me miss Todd. He had more patience for Sonia’s antics.

Nothing happens. Plus I’m at the new show now so who should I give them? The old show or the new show? I need to freshen up my drink. Do you want something? Come on, Hel, I have everything. Jordan is drinking martinis, but just name your poison. She got up and played hostess as if I wasn’t about to strangle her.

With a frown I glanced around the room. Where was the housekeeper? Sonia never lifted a finger. The Twilight Zone theme played in my head.

Sure, just a diet whatever. I wasn’t much of a drinker.

Jordan sat on the couch and shrugged at Sonia’s behavior. So you two are clearly not twins.

You think?

I flopped down in an arm chair. Genes can be creative. Sonia takes after our mom. Me, not so much. That was a bit of an understatement.

The biggest difference was I wore a size ten while my sister barely filled out a four. In most of America I measured about average, but in Hollywood I ranked as plus size and very ordinary in the looks department. Not that I had a complex. I just knew the score.

Sonia needs something. Hopefully you can shake her into action. She’s just been hiding out, Jordan said softly.

I’m not going anywhere until she’s absolutely safe.

My schedule had always been flexible around my ex’s job. While I’d enjoyed my routine over the last eight years, I could handle a detour better than most. My sister came first. Now the question was where to start when she didn’t feel like sharing?

Sonia handed me a glass and then returned to her indent on the couch with a tall drink. Her dog begged as if he knew what was in the glass.

I took a sip of my drink and set the glass on the table. Thanks. So you're sure it's not Danny?

I hated to suspect her husband, but I couldn’t ignore the Danny factor either. Their divorce was high school drama on a Hollywood scale. Danny wasn’t big on brains or talents but he loved Sonia and I’d never doubted that. My brother-in-law could have gone from clingy to obsessed in seconds.

That boy is a sorry ass case. Jordan patted Sonia’s arm, his nails shimmering in peach glitter commiseration.

He cheated. I can‘t live with that. Sonia folded her arms and huffed out her breath.

Jordan finished his drink and let Fluffy lap the glass. The dog’s collar was studded with diamonds and I wasn’t about to ask if they were real. I wouldn’t put it past Sonia. My sister spent her money oddly but splitting it up with her ex would make it harder.

Their lawyers are cranking the Hollywood divorce machine overtime. He couldn‘t handle Sonia‘s success, and the press is rabid, Jordan fussed.

Don’t give Fluffy another drink. She’s had enough, Sonia whined and pulled the dog into her lap again.

I saw the tears welling in Sonia’s eyes but no one had answered my question. I wasn’t totally against interrogation tactics.

What’s up with Danny? I asked again, this time a little firmer.

The soap dropped him when I left. Our super couple is over and they wrote us out. He tried to get them to recast me or kill my character off to keep him on. Our final episodes haven’t even aired yet, Sonia sniffed.

They wanted a happily ever after. Soaps, Jordan said with a wide swish of his hand.

Jealousy counted as a motive. They’d been married since they were nineteen. She’d out-earned and outshined him every step of the way.

Sonia rubbed her eyes. I don’t think it’s Danny. Letters aren’t his thing. The last few days there have been some hang-up calls. All blocked numbers. Then this morning there was a note on the windshield of my car. It had to have happened overnight.

I sat up straight. A note? Where is it? Now we were getting somewhere.

On the kitchen counter. Danny was the only person who knew I left the side door to the garage unlocked. But why would he leave me a weird note?—I have a headache. Sonia swooned like a pro.

Drink some water, you’re probably dehydrated. Sonia, you should never leave any door unlocked. That garage is attached and four cars wide. Anyone could’ve snuck up to find the easy way in. I headed past the dining room to the granite kitchen counter.

Finally something to go on. Rifling through her cabinets, I found a plastic bag and used it for a glove. Then I slid the casually strewn note into another plastic bag and closed it up. I’d learned a few things from my marriage—not normal things but they would be useful here.

Not much to go on. You'll be sorry. Written out in bold block letters with a thick black marker. Danny could certainly manage this, if he wanted.

I leave that door unlocked because one time I locked myself out of the house. The paparazzi had a field day. No one knows that door is even there. She rubbed her eyes. The note freaked me out. Someone was right there in my garage. They could've sat in my car. Yuck!

They could’ve jerked off in your car. The true wackos have many levels of obsession. I wanted her to take this seriously.

That’s so gross. Sonia shuddered.

Jordan grinned. Yeah, what if the stalker licked your steering wheel?

I wasn’t really making my point.

It's probably just a local fan going too far. I left it on the counter all zipped up in plastic.

Then I spotted a letter tucked between the phone and the Marilyn Monroe salt shaker. What’s this?

Chapter Two

Nothing. Good fan mail. I’m trying to remind myself that my fans don’t all hate me. This is just a transition phase. She sighed loudly and made a meditation hum while cradling her dog.

Okay. I freed the letter and read it. This is impressive.

He really gets me. The writing is weird, though, Sonia frowned.

It’s iambic pentameter. The letter was signed Dr. Brian. No last name listed.

What is that? she asked.

Sonia never took a lit class in her life or even auditioned for the role of Juliet.

Shakespearean. Your fan is well educated, Jordan winked.

Why do people think soap fans are dumb? Sonia huffed.

I didn’t think they were dumb, but this one made me nervous. This isn’t a typical fan letter.

I looked at the front of the envelope. The return address was Los Angeles. Worse still, it had Sonia’s home address on the front, not the studio’s.

How the hell does he know where you live? I demanded.

Don’t start. I try to keep things private but it’s not that easy. He’s harmless. Sonia fluffed a pillow roughly. Well educated people should be too smart to stalk.

I wished that were true. "Don’t make me put on a Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal marathon. Or would you prefer the Black List? Smart criminals are the worst kind."

That concept gave her nightmares and always worked for a good threat, but her defensive nature about the whole thing made me back off. I slipped the letter in my pocket for research later. We had bigger issues right now. I sat back in the chair, hoping it would make my sister relax.

Is there anyone else, besides the fans that sent letters and Danny, who might have a reason to threaten you? Be upset with you? At all annoyed with you? Did you steal someone’s housekeeper? Nail appointment? Boyfriend? Dog sitter? I asked.

Sonia shook her head. I’m not seeing anyone! I didn't cheat. I’m not the one who threw a fit when my wife got the offer of a lifetime. If Danny got his big break I’d have been happy for him. But he liked the soap life and felt safe there. He never had enough ambition.

Sonia took a long drink of her Bloody Mary and it seemed to calm her down. My little sister never failed at anything. She was always popular and fell into acting almost by accident while trying to be a model. People loved her and fawned over her, which she couldn’t get enough of. The more popular you were though, the more people wanted to bring you down in this town. Now with the divorce, the upset fans, and a stalker, it had to be eating her up.

It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Did you report the note and trespassing to the police? I asked.

She looked up with a doe-eyed innocence many fell for.

I glared. Sonia—

Sonia shook her head. The reporters, Hel. Those paparazzi. They’d hound me even more. I’d be all over Twitter, vlogs, YouTube, websites, and the gossip shows. Those tabloids are already vicious about the divorce and they’re everywhere. Say one thing in a salon and it’s on everyone’s iPhone ten seconds later.

"TMZ does love to mock you," Jordan said, then tsked and rolled his eyes.

Bad press doesn’t matter! You know Hollywood, Sonia. You can handle this. It’s just drama. A stalker could actually hurt you.

"Before it was so nice—the press focused on how successful I was. What a cute couple Danny and I were. Now it's my divorce and my deserting the soap when its ratings are sinking. All soaps’ ratings are diving now. Lots of high paid stars are getting the axe so the show can stay on the air. Some studios are cancelling soaps. This is the right career move.