by M. Z. Kelly
“I’m talking about DNA evidence.” I held up my phone, showing her the message from Brie Henner. “As I’m sure you know, Bert Prince was engaged in a sex act shortly before he died. We just got proof that you were a party to that act.”
EIGHTEEN
Tears flooded from Marisha Dole’s eyes as she sobbed uncontrollably.
If he was impacted by the emotional dam burst, Darby gave nothing up. “The evidence doesn’t lie. Your DNA was in the database when you did time for a drug offense several years ago. You continued to be involved with Bert Prince right up until you murdered him.” He leaned in closer to her. “He was cheating on you, wasn’t he? That’s why you killed him.”
Dole brushed the hair off her forehead. “No, you…you don’t understand.”
“Then fill us in,” I demanded. “What was going on between you and Bert?”
“I was…” She took a breath and tried to stem the tears. “I’ll admit I was attracted to him and we continued to see one another, but…” There were more sobs, and she didn’t go on.
“We’re waiting,” Darby said. “And we’re not waiting for another lie. Tell us what was going on.”
She used a tissue to blot her tears. “As I said, Bert and I were still involved. We continued our relationship off and on. It was a mistake that I now regret.”
“A big mistake, especially when you shot him,” Darby said.
“No…I left right after…” She brushed her tears, “…when I left he was still alive and said he would call me later.”
“Bullshit,” Darby spat. “You and Bert Prince skimmed millions from his wife and daughters’ accounts. After you blew him, there was some kind of falling out, probably because he was cheating on you. Then you murdered him to cover up what was going on.”
Dole did her best to keep her voice even, trying to stay in control. “None of what you’re saying is true. I don’t know anything about taking money from Lady or the girls. This is all a setup.”
Darby went at her hard and heavy for the next half hour before Dole’s emotions finally gave way to anger and she closed down. “I’m not going to say another word. I want a lawyer.”
“You’re going to need one,” Darby said, standing up. We began moving toward the door. “Because you’re going to spend the rest of your rotten life in prison.”
***
After processing Marisha Dole for booking, Darby and I followed Leo and Buck to downtown Los Angeles for the late afternoon news conference. The conference was held up while we took a few minutes to update Acting Chief Dumbbell, I mean Dunbar, on our interview with Dole.
After listening to what we had to say, our temporary leader said, “You caught Dole with her goddamned hand in the Princes’ piggy bank and her DNA on the vic, and you still couldn’t get a confession?”
Darby shook his head. “She admits to a continuing relationship with the vic, but claims she was set up, everything was a frame.”
“And I’m Santa Claus,” Dunbar said, shaking his head. The acting chief, a wiry man with steel gray hair cut short, cut his eyes to Sherry Miles, the commander in charge of Media Relations. “Let’s get this pony show going. I’m meeting the mayor for an early dinner.”
I walked with the others toward the conference room, trailing behind Dunbar and Miles. As we turned a corner, I found myself beside Mel Peters. She glanced at me and lowered her voice, “I have a feeling it won’t be long before we have a new police chief.”
She seemed deflated, less than enthusiastic about the prospect of Dunbar becoming chief. Given our history, I decided to be noncommittal. “It’s looking that way.”
She lowered her voice even further. “If that happens, I might end up back at the division level.”
My own voice softened. “It sounds like you have some history with our future chief.”
I didn’t hear everything she said because we entered the conference room, where the press was all talking at once. All I made out were the words asshole and idiot. I had no idea what history she and Dunbar shared. All I did know was that if a career climber like Peters had issues with him, he must be worse than I imagined.
The conference began with Dunbar giving the press an update on our case, including details about the arrest of Marisha Dole on embezzlement and murder charges. He went on to lay out the relationship we believed that Dole, Bert Prince, and Danika Kirkland all shared and their scheme to steal from Lady and her daughters. He went so far as to speculate that Mark Swenson was planning to go to the authorities with what he knew about their plans, when Kirkland worked with Dole to kill him to keep things covered up. He surprised me by praising the work of Section One, before taking questions.
“At least it looks like our jobs are safe, thanks to us taking Dole down,” Darby whispered to me, while Dunbar took questions from the reporters.
“I guess that’s the only good thing to come from a bad situation,” I agreed, as my phone vibrated. I saw that the call was from Angie Montoya in Metro Division. I left the news conference and took the call from the financial analyst in a nearby alcove.
“I wanted to give you an update,” Montoya said after I answered. “We were able to look a little deeper into Bert Prince’s businesses.”
“How many businesses was he diverting money to?” I asked.
“There’s a total of twenty-three, but most of them look like shell corporations.”
“What does that mean?”
“The businesses are basically dummy companies that don’t really sell or produce much of anything. They act as tax shelters to launder money.”
I had a sinking feeling as I said, “You mean to launder the money he was stealing from his wife and daughters?”
“Exactly, but there’s something else. It looks like the funds were washed through the companies, but then went to offshore accounts.”
“Offshore, as in where?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. The money was sent through multiple channels, making it impossible to trace.”
“Do you know how much money we’re talking about?”
“It’s just an educated guess until we can do a full accounting, but it looks like around a hundred million.”
“Can you tell if Marisha Dole and Danika Kirkland were on the accounts?”
“There’s nothing we found to indicate that. It looks like once the money was funneled through the businesses, it went back to Bert Prince, who then sent it overseas. We talked to the accountant with Dole’s firm. He claims that Dole and he had no knowledge that the bank statements were being altered and that the money was being sent overseas. We’re going to continue to look into things, but it may be that Dole and Kirkland had no idea what Prince was doing.”
I ended the call and walked back into the conference room. Leo came over, apparently sensing something was the matter. “What’s going on?” he asked.
I exhaled as Assistant Chief Dunbar answered one of the reporter’s questions, taking credit for breaking the case and Marisha Dole’s arrest. I then looked at Leo. “I’m not sure exactly, but we could have the wrong person in jail, charged with murder and other crimes that she didn’t commit.”
NINETEEN
I ended my day by driving directly from police headquarters to Hart Veterinary Hospital to pick up Bernie. Before leaving, I’d briefly mentioned Angie Montoya’s call to Lieutenant Edna, without going into a lot of detail. He just groaned and, after a couple of expletives, said we’d talk about it first thing in the morning.
Bernie greeted me at the hospital, doing the happy dance like a prisoner being sprung from jail. Marlo Stratton gave me the schedule for his physical therapy appointments. She then said, “His fur is really starting to grow in where he had surgery. Give it a couple of weeks and you probably won’t be able to tell he was ever injured.”
I thanked her and gave her a little present I’d bought. I was leaving the hospital when I saw that Noah was in his office. I still felt guilty about forgetting about our dinner date, so I k
nocked on his door.
“Come in,” he said, coming around from his desk to greet me.
“I was just on my way home,” I said, glancing down at Bernie, who was doing a tail wag. “As you can see, he’s pretty excited about being paroled.”
Noah reached down and brushed a hand through Bernie’s fur. “I’ll bet. Just be sure to stick with the PT and give him lots of exercise. He should do fine.”
I assured him that I would follow the instructions, then said I was available for dinner Saturday night. “We could go with our original plan to go to Moonshadows, if you’re free.”
He hesitated, then said, “Actually, I’ve already got plans.”
“Oh, I understand…”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. Just an old friend from college.” He smiled. “A guy from my fraternity house. We’re catching up on old times.”
“It’s no problem. We can always meet another time.”
He took a step closer and touched my arm. “I’m sorry. I really do want to get together.”
“No need to apologize. I’m the one who got busy with work and missed our last date. Just text me when you’re free.”
We exchanged hugs and a few minutes later I was on my way home with Bernie who was lapping up air from the back seat. I was less than a mile from the hospital when my tears started to come. I had no idea why I was feeling emotional about my conversation with Noah, but decided it was a combination of lots of things. Noah and I had expressed our love to one another. A few short weeks later, everything had fallen apart. Now, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, and I also wasn’t sure if he still had feelings for me. It felt like another in a long string of problematic relationships that never seemed to work out.
I was getting Bernie out of the back seat of my car when Natalie and Mo saw me. They came over, greeted Bernie, and saw that I’d been crying.
“Don’t tell me,” Natalie said. “The doggy doctor kicked you to the curb.”
Mo regarded me with one eye in that way she had. “I think Kate’s got a bad case of the man blues.” She looked at Natalie. “You need to whip us up some happy juice, baby sis.”
Despite protests and excuses that I was exhausted, I was dragged into their mobile home, where Natalie went to work fixing cocktails. As she made something she called Fire ‘n Ice, with Bernie supervising, I unburdened myself, telling them how I felt about what had happened with Noah.
Through my tears, I added, “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how either of us feels. I think there’s an emotional distance that’s grown between us, probably because of both my job and family issues.”
“Maybe Noah’s gay,” Natalie said, coming over to us from the kitchen for a moment, with Bernie trailing behind. “I dated a guy a couple of times who told me he wanted somebody with an outie, instead of an innie.”
I brushed my tears and chuckled. “I think it’s more complicated than that.”
“No, this guy was a doctor. He said that men and women are all the same on the inside. It’s just that God gave some of us a pistol and some a holster.”
Mo rolled her eyes. “I’m with Kate on this one. It’s way more complicated than that.” She regarded me. “Maybe you need to get back in the rodeo, give the cowboy another ride.”
“I don’t date anyone I work with, and my relationship with Buck is ancient history.”
They went on, giving me relationship advice for a few minutes before Natalie served up the drinks. She handed me a cocktail glass. “These are called Fire ‘n Ice ‘cause the rum’s icy cold and it’s spiced with a Carolina Reaper.”
“A what?”
“It’s the world’s hottest pepper. Guaranteed to peel the skin off your tongue.”
I sniffed my drink. “I don’t think I want to damage my tongue.”
Mo looked at Natalie. “Maybe Kate’s planning on using it on somebody one of these days.”
“Just verbally,” I said, thinking about my conflicts with Darby.
“Speakin’ of that,” Natalie said. “Rumors have been flyin’‘round Nirvana that Marisha was the one was using her tongue on Bert before he checked out.”
I was noncommittal, but said, “I guess you’ve also heard that she’s in jail.”
“You ask me, you got the wrong person locked up,” Mo said. “I met Marisha a few times. She’s too smart to get mixed up in stealing from Lady and her daughters. You gotta dig deeper.”
My earlier conversation with Angie Montoya came to mind. “Any idea where exactly we should be digging?”
“Don’t know exactly. All I know is that house is full of dirty little secrets.”
“What kind of secrets?”
Natalie answered. “The S & M kind.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sex and Money.”
She and Mo went on for a couple of minutes, speculating about everyone from Sly Sylvester to the housekeeping staff as possible suspects, but coming up with nothing specific. The conversation then turned to Nana and her lawyer. I mentioned that I’d seen Hermes Krump coming out of her room that morning.
“You mean the old bag bagged herself Krump’s cherry?” Natalie said.
Mo had a more visceral reaction, making a gagging sound, before saying, “Do you have any idea what you just said is doing to my psyche?” She looked at Natalie. “I got me a pretty delicate grasp on reality and Kate just put Vaseline on the monkey bars. I think I might need medication, baby sis.”
“Just have another Fire ‘N Ice, Mo. You’ll start to feel better soon.” She looked at me. “You need to drink up, too. It works wonders for depression.”
I wanted to be polite, so I took a sip of the drink. It took a moment, before the Carolina Reaper kicked in. I screeched, “It feels like my mouth is on fire!” It took a moment, but once I got past the burning sensation, I thought I might live.
“You’re a F&I virgin, so you might wanna chase it with a glass of ice water.”
“Don’t go talkin’ ‘bout virginity again,” Mo said. “I’m starting to have a Nana-Krump flashback.”
Natalie had her phone out and changed the subject. “I just checked on that hope4adope website. So far, Charlie’s got $3.59 pledged to help him pay off his gambling debts.” She looked at us. “Looks like we’re gonna be going to a weddin’.”
“I need me a new dress, anyway,” Mo said. “I could also use a new wig or two. What do you say we all go shopping this weekend?”
I stood up and yawned, then groaned, “Maybe we can also get outfits for my family reunion.”
As I got Bernie on his leash, they came over to me. Natalie said, “What’s the latest on you seeing Daddy Pearl?”
“I don’t know if he is my father, but if I can work it into my schedule, I’m hoping to go by and see him sometime this weekend.”
“Let us know if you want me and baby sis to go with you,” Mo said. “I’ve watched a lot of those TV shows where they do paternity tests. I know how to help you deal with your emotions if it turns out Pearl is your father.”
Natalie also said she could help. “If you go nuts and start screaming, ‘I’m your baby, Daddy!’, I’ll keep you from shootin’ him.”
I said goodnight and took Bernie for a stroll before turning in. As he sniffed along a flowerbed, I wondered if my life would always be like this: me living in a mobile home, going from one relationship disaster to another, getting hair-brained advice from my friends, while I continued to chase the ghost of the father who abandoned me to this crazy world.
TWENTY
I woke up the next morning with a sore throat. I wasn’t sure if I was getting sick or it was a Fire ‘n Ice hangover. After gargling with some hot water, I felt better and decided it was probably just the revenge of the Carolina Reaper. I then went next door and made arrangements for Natalie to take care of Bernie for the day and take him to his physical therapy appointment.
An hour later, I walked into the station and was met by Darby, Leo, and Buck.
�
�Edna wants us to go to Bert Prince’s funeral this morning,” Leo explained. “Media Relations thinks it will look good to the press if we’re there representing the department.”
“In other words, future Chief Dumbbell wants us to put on a show,” I said as I followed them back out to the parking lot.
After we all got into a pool car, with Leo driving, I told them about Mel Peters’ reaction to Dunbar becoming our chief. “She made it sound like she would transfer if he gets promoted.”
“She had lots of issues with Dunbar when she worked for him,” Darby explained. “She told me once that he also hit on her.”
“Were they involved?”
He shrugged. “Not sure, but whatever happened, it ended with no love being lost between them.”
“I’ve heard rumors about Dunbar being a womanizer,” Leo confirmed.
“If word of that gets around, it just might keep him from being promoted,” Buck speculated.
Darby looked at his former partner. “I guess you don’t know the way the politics are played around here. Mayor Hopkins and the press are in bed together. If the mayor taps Dunbar to be chief, they’ll turn a blind eye to his past.”
What Darby had said was probably true. The era of investigative journalism seemed to be a thing of the past, at least when it came to political soulmates. I decided to keep what I’d learned about Dunbar in mind anyway, in case it came in useful in the future.
The funeral for Bert Prince was held at the Missionary Cathedral in downtown Los Angeles, with interment at Riverside Memorial Park, on a hill overlooking the ocean in Long Beach. It was one of those all day affairs, with long-winded eulogies by a couple of actors, Prince’s brother, and a childhood friend. The service was all captured on video for the TV show, with Sly Sylvester’s film crew recording everything.
We were leaving the church when we saw that Lady, Paris, and Monaco were hamming it up for the cameras, crying lots of crocodile tears. Each woman had a close up as they gave rehearsed statements about how much they would miss our victim. Paris flubbed her lines and laughed at Sylvester when he insisted that she reshoot her scene. She eventually gave an Oscar-worthy performance, breaking down as she told the audience that, despite the fact that Bert had stolen from them, she would miss him. When the cameras stopped rolling, she turned to her mother, laughed, and said, “I’ll miss him like an STD.”
