Authors: M.Z. Kelly
“Who is Bert Prince?” Addison Blaine asked me.
I glanced at Buck, then back to her. “Have you ever heard of the TV show
The Princes of Beverly Hills
?”
She shook her head. “I almost never watch TV. Was he some kind of an actor?”
Buck and I took turns, filling her in on the reality TV show, Lady, and her daughters.
“I don’t want to sound like a snob,” Blaine said, “but it doesn’t sound like the kind of thing either Cole or I would be interested in.”
“He ever mention Prince?” Buck asked her.
“Never.”
“What about Paulina, or maybe Jimmy?”
“If they knew him, or anything about the TV show and his family, they never said anything to me.”
I’d studied Blaine as she spoke and had the sense that she was telling the truth. I decided to tell her what we knew about our victim’s embezzlement of funds from his wife and daughters, knowing we had little to lose.
“Bert Prince took millions of dollars from his family’s accounts over a period of several years,” I said. “He was involved with a woman named Marisha Dole, who may have helped in the theft. It might be a coincidence, but the financial records were falsified to conceal the crime, just like with what happened with Cole’s accounts.”
“You ever heard of Dole?” Buck asked her.
“No. And I know you’re going to ask me, so I don’t think Cole, or Paulina, or Jimmy, for that matter, ever mentioned her either.” Her gaze drifted off and we gave her some time to process what we’d told her. She finally looked back at me. “Remember what I told you about some Betas being involved in taking advantage of wealthy people and corporations? It might be there’s somebody else who was playing dirty behind the scenes with both this Prince guy’s family and Cole that we don’t know about.”
“Any thoughts on who?” Buck asked.
She exhaled. “No, but I’m willing to bet my mother might have some ideas, if she’s willing to talk.”
I reached into my pocket and gave her my business card. “Could you have a talk with her? Maybe try to make it sound as nonthreatening as possible and try to arrange a meeting.”
She took my card. “I’ll try, but there are no guarantees—especially when it comes to my mother.”
***
I got home a little after six. It was a Friday night, but, considering the fact that we now had two murders that appeared to be connected, I expected I’d be spending at least part of my weekend working. The prospect of also trying to talk to Kellen Malone, and then spending time at my family reunion, only further dampened my spirits.
Mo saw my depression as I came through the door to pick up Bernie. My big dog gave me lots of big, wet kisses, bringing tears to my eyes when I thought about the possibility of us never working together again.
“It looks like we got us a Code Ninety-six,” Mo said to Natalie as she handed me a tissue. “Better make it a Triple Salchow.”
“A what?” I said.
Mo was about to answer when Natalie, wearing a miniskirt and a pair of roller skates, came skating into the room, holding a tray of drinks. When she stopped, the drinks slipped forward on her tray. Mo caught one of them as she righted the others.
Mo handed the drink to me as Natalie said, “It’s a drink they serve ice skaters after a long day with the guy throwing his partner in the air, then groping her butt. It’s kinda like a gin fizz, only with more whizz than fizz. It’s guaranteed to flip your frown upside down.”
I took my drink over to the sofa with them. It was against my better judgement, given Natalie’s history of making drinks that resulted in the world’s biggest hangovers, but I took a sip.
“It’s delicious,” I said. I took another taste. “It’s just what I need after the day I’ve had.”
“You wanna give it up,” Mo said, running a brush through her spiky red wig, “or do you want us to drag it out of you?”
I saw no reason not to tell them about Bernie. I told them what Edna had said about Acting Chief Dunbar hating dogs, then added, “It means that Bernie’s probably going to be reassigned, unless I can pull some magic out of my ass.”
Mo regarded my derriere. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there’s not much room for magic in there.” She met my eyes again. “You gotta be kiddin’ ‘bout Bernie.”
“I wish I was.”
“We can’t let this happen,” Natalie said, slamming down the rest of her drink. She looked at Mo. “I got me a plan.”
My friends spent the next five minutes discussing everything from poisoning the acting chief to protesting in front of city hall. When I’d heard enough, I said, “Let’s give it some time. Buck’s also trying to come up with something.”
Natalie tossed off a skate. “You two sound like you’re getting’ real chummy again.”
“We’re just working together.” I saw her looking at Mo like they had a big secret. “Okay, what gives?”
Mo answered. “Baby sis and me followed that cheatin’ liar of an ex-boyfriend you had. We think he hooked up with that same girl you saw him with the other night.”
“Did Noah’s new squeeze have long dark hair, small tits, and a tattoo that said BITCH on her forehead?” Natalie asked me, obviously feeling the effects of her Salchow.
“That would be her.”
“They was gettin’ pretty friendly, if you know what I mean,” Mo said.
I knew what she meant, but didn’t want to know. “I couldn’t care less.”
“He took her with him to the Tauist Retreat.”
She now had my attention. “You followed them there?”
Mo nodded her red head. “I gotta bad feelin’ she’s involved in whatever bad shit they’re cookin’ up.”
They went on for several minutes, speculating about Noah, the woman, and my dire future. They ended the discussion, with Natalie saying, “Don’t forget, we’re goin’ with you tomorrow when you talk to that Malone bloke. If he tries anything funny, I’ll put the Triple Salchow on him.” She made a judo chop motion with her hands and yelled, “Kiai!”
The thought of Noah, his girlfriend, and my upcoming meeting with Malone only deepened my depression. I held up my empty glass. “I don’t suppose you’ve got another one of these?”
As she went over and made me another Salchow, the doorbell rang. In a moment, Nana and Hermes Krump joined us in the living room, and my depression turned to suicidal thoughts.
Nana came over and regarded me. “It looks like the curse spillover is finally easing. Now you just look like a woman with a funny shaped nose.”
Natalie came to my defense as I sipped the drink she’d brought over. “Kate’s got a beautiful nose. It’s kinda prominent.”
“Prominent,” I said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Something that’s large, protruding, or distended,” Krump said, demonstrating both his command of the English language and complete lack of tact.
“Unlike what
you’re
carrying around,” Nana said to Krump, slapping him on the shoulder, and laughing.
While Krump sauntered off, apparently worrying about his manhood, Nana filled us in on her upcoming hearing. “Wilhelmina’s permanently out of commission, thanks to Griselda’s curse. The last I heard, her face looks like Freddy Krueger on steroids, but her brother Boris has taken over, and he’s no dummy.” Her gaze wandered over to Krump, who had poured himself a Salchow. “That leaves me with a little problem.”
“And she does mean little,” Natalie said, also looking in Krump’s direction.
Nana looked at me. “I need you to work your magic on him again. Make Krump think he’s a regular Clarence Barrow.”
“You mean Darrow.”
“I mean the world’s greatest lawyer. You gotta deliver for me, or…” Her features hardened and she worked her loose dentures against her lips as her voice came up a notch. “I heard they’ve got a place that’s for rent a couple of units over from yours. We could all be neighbors if things don’t go my way.”
Mo gulped down the last of her drink, her desperation surfacing. “Don’t worry. Kate will turn Krump into a courtroom superman.” She looked at me. “Won’t you?”
I exhaled, feeling the effects of my two Salchows as I looked over at Nana’s lawyer. I saw that Krump was now drinking out of Natalie’s blender. Maybe it was my drunken state, but an idea surfaced. I almost laughed out loud as I considered it. I lowered my voice and said under my breath, “It just might work.”
“What might work?” Nana and my friends said in unison.
I decided not to give up my plan—for now. “I have an idea. I’ll let you know when it comes together.” My gaze wandered over to her lawyer. “But, when I get through with Hermes Krump, I’ve got a feeling he’s going to think he’s the world’s greatest southern lawyer, or maybe even a colonel.”
I stumbled home with Bernie an hour later, after downing a total of three Salchows. I had a bite to eat, took a shower, and was getting ready for bed when my phone rang. I saw the call was from Noah. I thought about not answering it, but then decided that might raise suspicions.
“I thought I’d see how your week went,” Noah said after I said hello.
“It was busy, as usual,” I said, trying to make my voice sound sober and even. “Seems like it flew by. And yours?”
“Same. A couple of surgeries and the usual office calls.”
Not to mention, your meeting with Russell and spending time with your bimbo.
He went on. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner tomorrow night. We could go back to our original plan to go to Moonshadows.”
I hesitated, weighing the options. If I said I was busy, it might raise suspicions that I was onto him, but I also had plans to meet with Kellen Malone tomorrow.
“If you’re busy…”
“I’m sorry, Noah. It’s just that I have plans to do some shopping for this weekend’s family reunion, and…” I came up with a lie. “My sister, Amanda, is in town and I wanted to get together with her before then. We haven’t seen one another in years.”
“I understand. Maybe we could try and get together the middle of next week.”
“That sounds perfect. Let’s touch base early in the week.”
After ending the call, I decided things had gone as well as possible. The call had served to help us stay in touch, but not raise any suspicions on his part. At least that’s what I told myself as I got into bed. The reality was, hearing Noah’s voice had brought back the memory of all the good times we’d shared. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered our long walks on the beach in Maui when we’d shared our most intimate thoughts, and then later when we’d made love.
As I pushed those thoughts aside, the real, or imagined conversation—I wasn’t sure which—that I’d had with my deceased love-dad came to mind. In one of my darkest moments, he’d come to me and said something about how when there is a loss in our lives, there is also a gift left behind.
His words now seemed like an empty platitude. Darkness filled my world, along with tears. If there was a gift in my suffering, it seemed forever lost to me.
“I’ve decided I need you both to stay here while I go talk to Malone,” I said to Natalie and Mo as Bernie settled at my feet. My friends and I had stopped for coffee at a Starbucks near Kellen Malone’s ranch in Hidden Hills because I was still feeling a little fuzzy from too many Salchows.
“We gotta go with you for protection,” Natalie protested.
Mo agreed with her. “What you gonna do if Malone decides to pull a gun and takes you hostage?”
“You forget, I’m a cop and I also have a gun. I can take care of myself.” I motioned to a store that was in the shopping center, knowing there was nothing more effective than shopping to keep my friends busy. “Maybe you can find something to wear for tomorrow’s family reunion over there.”
“Bongs ‘n Thongs,” Natalie said, reading the sign.
“Kate must want us to get high and show up at her family reunion wearing nuthin’ but our undies,” Mo said. Her dark eyes remained fixed on the store. “But I guess I could use me some new underwear.” She stood up. “Let’s go, baby sis.” She looked back at me. “If you get yourself killed, just so you know, we’ll be wearin’ our new thongs to your funeral.”
Hidden Hills was on the border of the San Fernando Valley, about forty-five minutes from Hollywood. The area consisted of expensive homes and ranches on large lots, some consisting of several acres. I’d read somewhere that a lot of celebrities owned homes in the community, including Jennifer Lopez and Britney Spears. It also wasn’t lost on me that the area was less than a half hour’s drive from the Tauist’s retreat.
After showing my credentials to a guard at the gate, I was allowed access to the community. I found Kellen Malone’s rambling home in an area of sprawling ranches. The property had a barn and an arena with several horses. There was a man tending to one of the horses as I pulled to the curb. Even though he was much older than the man I’d seen in the photograph I’d found in Jean Winslow’s house, as I walked over to him with Bernie, I realized he was Kellen Malone.
Contrary to what his own father had said about him being a monster who was a member of the Revelation at one time, others who knew Malone had opposite opinions. And, if first impressions were any indication, as we introduced ourselves and chatted, I found him to be friendly and approachable.
Despite those feelings, I tried to steady my nerves and speak evenly. I took a moment, giving him a little background on my love-dad and explaining why I was there. Malone’s expression gave nothing up, as I took a breath and added, “I have a few questions about your father and his relationship to the Tauists if you’ve got a few minutes and are willing to talk to me.”
Malone was handsome, with silver hair and hazel eyes, about the same color as Natalie’s. “John Sexton was really your father?”
“My adoptive father. He was shot and killed by a man named Ryan Cooper when I was a child.”
Malone had a brush in his hand that he’d been using on the horse and tossed it in a bucket. He then reached down and ran a hand through Bernie’s fur, saying, “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
After he tidied up a bit, Malone and I took seats on his stone patio, which overlooked a small pond full of Koi. He told me about his ranch as a housekeeper brought out a pitcher of iced tea. “I bought the place about fifteen years ago when I got out of Hollywood.” He smiled. “I used to raise hell, now I just raise a few thoroughbreds.” He cut his eyes to Bernie’s scar. “What happened to him?”
“A run-in with a guy with a knife. He’s almost back to full speed.”
He nodded. “I think I’ve…have you been on TV?”
I told him about the TV show I’d recently been on to help out a victim. “It was called
Hollywood Detective.
”
“That’s where I’ve seen you.”
“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea to do the show.” We both looked into the yard bordering his house as a flock of geese landed there. They began making honking sounds, causing Bernie to trot a few steps into the yard and look in their direction.
After commenting on the geese, I got down to the issue at hand. “What can you tell me about your father?”
His eyes fixed on me again. “I can tell you we haven’t spoken in years.”
I gave nothing up. “Why is that?”
“I can’t prove it, but I think he committed murder, maybe lots of murders.”
“Tell me about him and how that effected your relationship.”
He took a moment, sipping his iced tea and petting Bernie who had made his way back over to us. “There was an actress. Her name was Jean Winslow…”
I removed the photograph I’d found in Winslow’s house and handed it to him. “This was taken…”
“Her thirtieth birthday.” He took a breath and rubbed his jaw, examining the photo. After a long moment, he looked up. “Where’d you get this?”
“Jean’s house is for sale. I recently met her niece, and she showed me around the place. We found this in her bedroom. It was in a secret compartment.”
He looked back at the picture, raising his brows. “John, your father, was there, and…”
“Ryan Cooper, the man who shot him.” I cut my eyes to the photo. “There was also a man named Ozzie Powell there. He worked with my…with John, and...” I took a moment, deciding not to get ahead of the story. “Tell me about Jean.”
His gaze moved off again. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I saw his eyes misting over as he said, “We were in love.”
“But she was involved with Donald Regis at the time.”
He shook his head. “Jean had broken things off with him. He was abusive and she wanted out of her contract with his studio. Regis was mad as hell about it. I have no way of proving it, but I believe Regis and my father murdered Jean and made it look like a suicide.”
I was surprised by what he’d said, having heard that Regis and Collin Russell, Malone’s father, were at odds during that time. “Your father told me a different story—that
you
were behind Jean’s death.”
He chuckled. “Of course he did. The world’s biggest liar
would
turn everything around and try to make it look like his own son was a killer.”
“But what was in it for him—for your father? Why would he and Regis turn on Jean?”
“Money, the one thing that’s always motivated my father.”
“Can you explain what you mean?”
He exhaled. “Donald Regis and my father were skimming money from Wallace Studios for years. They went so far as to hire their own financial controller to divert what probably amounted to millions of dollars.”
“Dallas Walberg.”
“You’ve done your homework.” He shook his head in apparent disgust as he continued with his story. “Jean found out about what was happening. I think she told John about it and it ended up costing them both their lives.”
“You’re saying that your father and Donald Regis hired Ryan Cooper to kill my father.”
He nodded. “And probably to kill Jean a few weeks before that and make it look like a suicide. Cooper was on their payroll. I also believe that Harlan Ryland was involved.”
I took a moment, going over the facts as I thought I now knew them, and that Regis had committed suicide a few weeks back. I asked Malone about that. “Do you think Regis took his own life?”
He laughed. “No more than I believe Jean’s death was a suicide. When my father became a member of the Revelation and later formed the Tauist Society with Ryland, he and Regis had a falling out. They were at odds for years. My father and Ryland probably hired someone to give him the fatal dose of drugs.”
“Your father—he told me that you were one of the original members of the Revelation.”
“What did I say before about him being the world’s biggest liar?” He sipped his tea, set the glass down, and squared up his shoulders. “I don’t know much about the Revelation, or the Tauists, for that matter. All I do know is that my father and Ryland used both organizations to make themselves extremely wealthy. Along the way, they took out anyone who posed a threat to them.”
What Malone said confirmed much of what I thought I already knew about the deaths of Jean Winslow and my father, but I now knew that Donald Regis and possibly Harlan Ryland were also involved. There were just a few pieces of the puzzle that I still needed to work out.
“Can you tell me about Ozzie Powell? I know he was a friend of my…of John’s, and he’s the one who invited him to Jean’s birthday party. Do you know if Ozzie knew about Jean’s suspicions that Regis and your father were stealing from the studios?”
He shrugged. “I can’t really say. I remember him being with your dad at Jean’s house a few times. If Jean told John what was happening, then he probably confided in Ozzie, since they were friends, but I can’t say for sure.”
I took a breath before asking the other question I was hoping he could help answer. “As I mentioned before, John Sexton was my adoptive father. My mother was an actress named Judie Crawford. I’m still…” I took a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “I don’t know who my biological father is, but there was another detective. He was friends with John and Ozzie and he might be my father. His name is Pearl Kramer.”
Malone’s eyes became unfocused and he tugged on his collar as he thought about what I’d said. After a moment, he looked at me. “Pearl…yes, it was a long time ago, but I’ve got what some people might call a photographic memory. I do remember meeting him and John saying something about him. It wasn’t at Jean’s party, though. I think it was at a barbecue at her place a few weeks before her birthday.” He took a moment, then asked, “Was Pearl a black man?”
I gulped in a breath. “Yes. Do you remember what John said about him?”
His gaze moved off again as he considered my question. “It was just something he said to his friend Ozzie…something about keeping secrets.”
The skin on my forehead tightened. “Any idea what he meant by that?”
“I think maybe he wasn’t sure Pearl could keep quiet about something. Not sure exactly what it was.”
I continued to probe, asking Malone what else he knew about Pearl, but didn’t get anything more. I’d spent over an hour with him and knew that my friends were worried about me because of the half dozen texts I’d received. I explained about needing to go, and Malone walked with Bernie and me to my car.
When we stopped on the street to say our goodbyes, I saw that his expression was more serious than before. As we shook hands, he said, “You need to be careful. My father and Ryland have a lot of people working for them. If they know that you’re looking into what happened to your father and Jean…” He released a breath. “…like I said, be careful. They’ve killed before. They’ll kill again.”
I thanked him and was about to leave, when something else occurred to me. I turned back to him. “There’s another man who I think has some ties to your father. Have you ever heard the name Noah Fraser mentioned in connection with him or Ryland?”
He nodded slowly as he said Noah’s name aloud, then added, “I think his name came up a few years back in connection with somebody who claimed that my father cheated him out of his life savings. The guy went away a few weeks after that.”
“Went away?”
“Yeah, as in turned up dead. It’s just speculation on my part, but I’ve got a feeling this Noah Fraser might be working for my father and Ryland, just like Ryan Cooper did.”
I tamped down my anxiety as I said, “As an enforcer?”
“Some people might call it that. If it was me, I’d just say he’s a hit man.”