Killer in the Hills Read Online Free

on?” Melvin says.
    “No.”
    “Turn it on.”
    “Which channel?” I say, reaching for the remote on the nightstand.
    “All of ‘em,” he says.
    I switch the TV to a local channel and see video of Melvin and me running the press gauntlet from the Chateau Marmont to the Town Car.
    “I’ve already seen this show,” I say to Melvin. “I’m talking to Nicki, I’ll call you later.” I start to turn the TV off.
    “Keep watching,” Melvin says.
    I watch for a moment, the sound muted. The screen switches to my picture—the mug shot from my murder arrest years ago. I look worse than I did in the Lucky ‘N Love wedding photo.
    “I’m gonna have to get myself arrested again,” I say to Melvin. “That picture sucks.”
    Then my picture slides to the side, and the screen is split between my mug shot and a webcam video of a girl, around fifteen years old. I turn up the sound, but the girl’s voice is drowned out by the voiceover of the TV news anchorman.
    “…internet video of Karen Penelope Rhodes, who is the daughter of murder victim Penelope Rhodes and bestselling author Jack Rhodes,” the anchorman says. “Police consider the girl as a person of interest in the murder of Penelope Rhodes, and ask anyone who may have information regarding the whereabouts of Karen Rhodes to call them at the number at the bottom of your screen…”
    “Shit,” I say.
    “What’s wrong?” I hear Nicki say from the cell phone, on the pillow by my head. I pick it up.
    “Guess I won’t be coming back to New York tomorrow,” I say.

CHAPTER NINE
     
    I hang up with Melvin, after making quick plans for the morning, then return to talk with Nicki, and our call is interrupted by a blocked number. I answer it.
    “Jack,” says a wheezy, nasal voice. “Fat Zach. Where’s your daughter?”
    I cut off the call without responding, and return to my conversation with Nicki. The phone on the nightstand rings. The ID says CHANNEL 7 NEWS. Call-waiting beeps again on my cell. I tell Nicki I’ll call her first thing in the morning. She is not happy. Then I turn off my cell and ring the front desk and tell them to hold my calls.
    I get up and go to my bag on the floor of the closet and take out my MacBook and turn it on. I Google “Karen Penelope Rhodes” and find her website at the top of the list of results: “BabyKare.com.” I hesitate for a second, then click on the link and watch the webcam video of the girl.
    She is pretty, with her mother’s wide blue eyes and small mouth. Her short blonde hair is pulled back in a tiny, curled ponytail. She is wearing a white midriff top with a little pink bow at the center of the low neckline, and white panties. She speaks directly into the camera, her wide eyes projecting innocence and sexuality at the same time, as she talks for two minutes about how much she is attracted to older men. She is whispering, pretending that she has to be quiet or her parents will hear her. She is suggestive but not graphic. I pause it halfway through and look with longing at the minibar key on the nightstand. I take a deep breath and continue watching. She ends the video with a sales pitch for a “private webcam experience” for $1.95 a minute. A counter in a small window at the bottom of the site’s homepage claims over a million views. I snap the MacBook shut and pick up the minibar key. I sit on the edge of the bed, the small key in my tight fist, staring at the little refrigerator across the room, four steps away.
    I get up, walk across the room, go to the window, open it, and throw the little key out into the rain. Then I take off my clothes and get in the shower and stand under the hot water for a long time.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    A few hours later I’m sitting in a booth in the back corner of the 101 Coffee Shop, just off the lobby of the Best Western, waiting for Melvin. Quick access to the Hollywood Freeway is not the only reason I chose to stay here. Melvin preferred the Beverly Wilshire, especially