by M. Z. Kelly
THIRTY-THREE
As it turned out, Blaine was at the studios of a TV program called BTS, more formally known as Beverly To Sunset, referencing the streets around Hollywood. It was an entertainment show that focused on celebrity gossip and rumors, and often paid paparazzi for video footage of stars being followed into nightclubs, restaurants, and through airport lounges. I’d read somewhere that the show was one of the highest rated programs in the nation. It was a mystery to me why Addison Blaine would lead us on a car chase through the streets of the city only to end up at the TV studio.
Buck and I met up with Darby and Leo on the street in front of the station, where Leo solved the mystery. “I got word that the station just went live with an interview of our suspect. She’s accusing the department of harassment and attempting to falsely arrest her for crimes she didn’t commit.”
“Let’s see if we can get inside and end this charade,” Darby said. “The less she says to the media, the better.”
Buck and I followed him and Leo inside, but I was having doubts about the way Darby wanted to handle things. I knew that BTS thrived on drama and unscripted reality TV, and our pudgy little co-worker was playing right into their hands.
When we got to the lobby, we saw there was a TV on the wall showing Blaine being interviewed by Dom Halpern, the host of the program. The broadcast was already underway and, while I didn’t hear Halpern’s question, Blaine’s tearful response was unmistakable.
“I’m being stalked and harassed by the police department,” Blaine said through her tears. “I have a solid alibi during the time Cole Abrams was murdered, but they won’t believe me. I’m being set up and falsely accused of something I didn’t do.”
I didn’t hear what Halpern said next because Darby was busy pushing his weight around with the receptionist. “We demand to immediately see Addison Blaine. We have a warrant for her arrest.”
“Would you mind repeating that?” we heard a man saying behind us.
We all turned, seeing that a TV camera was pointed at us. I realized they were doing a cutaway shot of Darby yelling at the receptionist during the live interview with Blaine.
When the receptionist said something about Blaine being unavailable, Darby raised his voice, apparently unconcerned about being on TV. “You either tell us where she is, or we’ll go find her ourselves, drag her out of the building, and arrest you for harboring a fugitive.”
“Have you ever heard of the first amendment, Detective?” the reporter with the camera asked.
Darby pushed the camera away. “Yeah, it’s something you’re using to keep a murder suspect from the police. Where the hell is she?”
“This is private property,” the reporter said. “You can’t just barge your way in here and…”
Darby pushed past him and headed up the stairs to the second floor landing. The rest of us followed, probably because there seemed to be no other option, given that Darby had pushed the issue. We then took an elevator to a floor marked Studio, only to find more reporters and cameras there.
“Where’s Blaine?” Darby demanded as the cameras swung around in our direction.
“I’m afraid you’re too late,” a reporter said.
“What’s that mean?”
“Your murder suspect is on the roof of the building, getting ready to leave with Mr. Halpern.”
We headed back to the elevator and took it to the top floor. We got off the elevator, seeing that a helicopter was lifting off, even as Darby went over and waved his arms and yelled for them to stop. All of it was caught on video by another camera crew that had apparently been staged to cover the event.
After the helicopter was about a hundred feet above the building, Darby came back over to us and said, “What the hell do we do now?”
“We get ready for all hell to break loose when the brass sees what just happened,” I said, knowing that our failed arrest wouldn’t play well downtown.
No sooner had I said the words than the helicopter began to lose power and spin out of control. We all ducked down as the rotor blades came lower, snapping off as they struck the roof of the building.
“It’s going down!” Leo yelled as we saw the main body of the copter falling. “They’re going to end up in the street below us!”
THIRTY-FOUR
We spent the remainder of the day and part of the night in front of the BTS studios, processing the scene with the National Transportation and Safety Board. The host of BTS, Dom Halpern, and the helicopter pilot had been killed in the crash, but Addison Blaine had miraculously survived. She’d suffered a broken leg and lots of scrapes and cuts, but was otherwise unscathed. The NTSB had confided to us that the crash was probably due to pilot error, but it would take months before a final ruling would be issued.
After Acting Chief Dunbar had seen Halpern’s interview with Blaine, and Darby’s antics with the TV crew, he’d told Captain Dembowski that he wanted the loud-mouth detective to play a secondary role in the investigation. That resulted in Lieutenant Edna allowing Buck and me to go to the hospital to arrest Blaine, hoping she would waive her rights and talk to us.
Before we left, Edna said, “Whatever you do, don’t fucking lean on her too hard. With her looks, the copter crash, and the TV coverage, she’s already become the media’s latest darling. Just go easy and see what you can coax out of her before you book her on the warrant.”
As Buck drove us to UCLA Medical Center for the interview, he said, “It looks like Darby’s in the Dunbar doghouse.”
“He deserves to be in the outhouse,” I said, taking a breath and brushing the hair out of my eyes. We’d already had a long day and, as the saying goes, we had miles to go before we could sleep. “I think the whole scene at the TV studio was a setup to make us look bad, and Darby played right into it.”
He smiled and looked over at me. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and Edna will make me your permanent partner.”
“Sorry, and don’t take this the wrong way, but I think Leo and I already make a pretty good team.”
His smile was still there. “As I remember, so did we.”
“That was a long time ago.” I thought about what I’d said, before adding, “It seems like a lifetime ago.”
“Are things really that serious between you and the vet?”
I glanced at him. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a discussion about Noah with him, especially in view of everything that had happened. “Let’s just say that the subject is off limits.” I held on his eyes. “Understood?”
He raised his right hand, giving me a little salute, but otherwise didn’t respond.
When we got to the medical center, we met with Blaine’s nurse on the seventh floor, where she explained about her patient’s injuries. “She has a hairline fracture that runs the length of her femur, almost to the hip. The doctors are still trying to decide whether or not surgery will be necessary.”
“Can she have visitors?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not. She’s been given some pain meds, but is otherwise resting comfortably.”
We found Blaine in a private room where a uniformed detective was standing guard since she was pending booking on murder charges. Unfortunately, our suspect wasn’t alone. Her rotund little attorney was sitting beside her bed as we entered. I had the impression that he had stopped by to check on her, and it was our bad timing to find him there.
“My client has already made it crystal clear that she has no intention of speaking with you further,” Howard Lang said.
I decided not to pull any punches with him. “You do understand that your client is going to be booked into jail on murder charges once she’s medically cleared.” I looked at Blaine. “If you decide to talk to us, it might help clear up a few things.”
Lang looked at his client who, other than having a bandage on her forehead, looked like a supermodel in a hospital bed. “I would advise against it.”
“I want to tell my story,” his client said. Blaine’s gaze shifted from the attor
ney to me. “I’m innocent and I hope after you hear what I have to say, you’ll understand that.”
After a feeble protest from Lang was rejected, we read our suspect her rights. Blaine waived them and said she was willing to answer our questions.
“Let’s go back to the night of Cole Abrams’ murder,” I said, after taking a step closer to her bedside. “Tell us about your actions, starting with everything that happened from around eight the night before.”
Her chest rose and fell as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Paulina arrived a little after eight. I spent some time with her and Cole, before leaving them.”
“When you say you spent some time with them, do you mean that you engaged in sex?”
I got a nod. “Cole liked…” She took a moment. “He had certain things he liked. I spent about an hour with them and then left the privacy room.”
“And what happened after that?” Buck asked.
“I read for a while. I then saw Cole leave the privacy room about nine-thirty. He went into his study to work.”
“What about Paulina?”
“I met her in the privacy room a little later. We hooked up for a while before I took a pill and fell asleep.”
“Ambien?” I said.
She nodded. “I didn’t wake up until around eight the next morning. I went into my bedroom, where Jimmy found me and told me about Cole.”
“Jimmy told us you didn’t seem surprised by what had happened and went back to bed,” Buck said.
She brushed back her dark hair. “I…I guess I was in a state of shock, or maybe it was the lingering effects of the pill I took. What happened didn’t really register with me until later.”
“If there’s nothing further,” Howard Lang said. “My client has had a very long day and could use some rest.”
“Just a few more questions,” I said, knowing that he was trying to do damage control. Blaine hadn’t said anything incriminating, but I still had a lot more questions. I said to her, “Let’s talk about Paulina Kristoff. She told us that you employed her to take care of Cole’s needs. Tell us about that.”
She took a moment before answering, maybe trying to choose her words carefully or deciding how much to tell us. “My mother owns a company that provides companionship. While we haven’t been close in recent years, she knew about the problems Cole and I were having and offered to help. That’s how Paulina came to work for me.”
“And what exactly were her duties?”
“The business my mother owns is called the House of Darwin. It specializes in training operatives, known as Betas, to provide intuitive companionship and emotional support. Cole was the Alpha, and Paulina was trained to be his Beta.”
“Is this House of Darwin a high-end escort service?” Buck asked.
Blaine’s beautiful features hardened. “Absolutely not.”
“Can you explain what you mean?” I asked, softening my tone, not wanting her to close down.
Her gaze moved off for a moment. “Have you ever imagined what it would be like to have someone who completely satisfied your every physical, emotional, and intellectual need?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “That’s the role of a Beta. They are trained to become a physical and emotional match for the subject they’re assigned to. Many of them, like Paulina, end up falling in love with their companions.”
“And how did that make you feel?” Buck asked.
“I won’t deny that sometimes I wished Cole and I could have connected the way he did with Paulina, but I was happy with our relationship. We found some common ground, and I had other interests.”
“As in Paulina, and Cole’s money?” I asked.
“I’m bisexual.” She took a breath. “As for the money, I was good at managing Cole’s finances, and he had no interest in material things.”
“Let’s go back and talk about the House of Darwin for a moment,” I said. “Tell us about how it operates.”
Blaine took a sip of water before going on. “My mother is Deidre Blaine. She’s a very bright woman. Several years ago, she recognized a need for the services the House provides and met that need. It’s made her one of the richest women in the world.”
“You said that you and your mother aren’t close. Why is that?”
“I was a Beta at one time. I was assigned to a man who…let’s just say that, despite all my training, we weren’t a good match. I ended my employment, and my mother wasn’t happy about it.”
“Where exactly is this House of Darwin located?” Buck asked.
“Darwin is in the hills overlooking Hollywood.”
“I’ve lived in Hollywood all my life,” I said, “but I’ve never heard of this company.”
“The services they offer are very confidential and discrete, and they only serve high-end clients. Privacy is the first rule of the business model.”
“Let’s talk about the weapon that killed Cole Abrams,” Buck said, moving the conversation in a different direction. “How did it get in your car?”
Lang stood up and came over to his client. “You don’t have to answer that question.”
Blaine waved a hand. “I have no problem with telling the truth.” She looked at Buck. “It had to be intentionally placed in my car to set me up for the murder.”
Buck glanced at me, then looked back at Blaine. “And who do you think placed it there?”
“The person who was trying to steal Cole’s fortune.”
THIRTY-FIVE
“Tell us what was going on,” I said, realizing there was a lot more to her story than we realized.
“I don’t know all the details,” Blaine said, “except that my mother told me there are several Betas who have been using their positions of trust to infiltrate the financial holdings of their operatives or the corporations that they work for. A few months back, several million dollars disappeared from Cole’s holdings before I realized what was happening and stopped it.”
“Are you telling us that you think Paulina was involved in stealing from Cole and possibly setting you up for his murder?” Buck asked.
“No, I trust Paulina. But I think she may know something about what’s been going on. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her about Cole’s death, but I think she might know who was behind it.”
“What about talking to your mother?”
“I’m not sure how much she knows or how much she would tell me. Like I said, we haven’t been close in recent years.”
“But she’s behind the House of Darwin,” I said. “Surely she knows about these Betas who are stealing from their clients.”
Blaine didn’t respond right away. She finally looked at me and said, “I’d be willing to talk to her if you don’t arrest me.”
“Where does your mother live?” Buck asked.
“She lives in a guest house on the same property as the House of Darwin.” She gave us an address.
“How many other…Betas live in the house?”
“I’m not sure. It varies from time to time. There could be as many as a couple dozen.” Her eyes fixed on me. “Would you go with me…I mean, when I talk to my mother?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “The arrest warrant has already been issued. If you’re released on bail and want to cooperate by helping us, that’s another matter. I’d be willing to talk to the DA.”
We left Blaine a few minutes later, not getting much else that was worthwhile. We were in the elevator when Buck said, “Any thoughts?”
“I think there’s a lot more about our victim, Kristoff, and Blaine’s relationship that we’re going to need to investigate.”
We were in the parking lot when my phone rang. I saw that the call was from Leo as I answered.
“We just got word that Lady Prince’s sister, Christina Conrad, was run down and killed earlier today,” Leo said.
I realized what he’d told me might put a new spin on our recently closed case. “Do they think it was an accident?”
“There were a couple of witnesses who said a c
ar came out of nowhere at a high rate of speed. It looked to them like it was intentional.”
THIRTY-SIX
Buck and I got back to the station at mid-afternoon and met with Lieutenant Edna, Leo, and Darby. Edna also called Selfie and Molly into the meeting, hoping they could help give us some background on Addison Blaine and Paulina Kristoff. Before getting into the Abrams case, we talked about the death of Christina Conrad.
“She was run down in front of a coffee shop where, according to the owner, she stopped every morning,” Leo said. “The witnesses didn’t get a plate, but said the car looked like it was accelerating when it hit her. There were no skid marks, no attempt to stop.”
“It sounds to me like Conrad knew something about Prince’s murder, and somebody didn’t want her talking,” Darby said.
Edna exhaled, looking at Selfie and Molly. “What do we know about Conrad, other than the fact that she’s Lady’s sister and she had an affair with her husband?”
“Just that she worked as a high end interior designer,” Selfie said. “She owned a business called Renoir, and had a lot of clients in Beverly Hills and Malibu.”
“What about her finances?” Edna asked. “She living beyond her means?”
Molly answered. “She was married to David Orlando. The divorce reportedly left her well off, but she lived in a small house in Santa Monica.”
“Orlando, as in the actor?”
Molly nodded. “They have a couple of kids together.”
“Did she have any ties to Marisha Dole or anyone else that’s been playing in the Prince sandbox?” Leo asked.
“Not as far as we can tell,” Selfie said. “And, as you all know from what Lady told you, she and Christina were on good terms recently.”
“There has to be some kind of a connection that we missed,” Buck said. “It’s too much of a coincidence to believe what happened was an accident.”
We all knew that coincidence was a dirty word when it came to police work. Whenever the word was used, it meant that something had been missed.
