by M. Z. Kelly
“So she was a sweet-talking call girl,” Darby said. “It doesn’t change what she did for a living.”
I ignored him, moving on. “We found Kristoff dead in her apartment a couple of days later from an overdose of sleeping pills. There was a suicide note on the nightstand, but we all have our suspicions that she didn’t take her own life.”
I then took a moment, summarizing Deidre Blaine’s business, which she called the House of Darwin, and her speculation that a man named Nicolai Asimov, who worked for her at one time, was behind Kristoff’s death.
I then said, “Addison Blaine realized someone was taking money, lots of money, from Cole Abrams’ accounts. Her mother speculated the theft was orchestrated by Paulina Kristoff, who was secretly working for her former employee, Nicolai Asimov. Kristoff was essentially a financial operative, working behind Blaine’s back with Asimov to steal from Abrams.”
“We all know about Asimov’s background,” Edna said. “So let’s save the chit-chat. The feds believe that Kristoff was also somehow linked to the Prince family, stealing money from Lady and her children.”
Leo said, “But we now know that the producer of the Princes’ TV show, Carlyle Waggoner, and our second victim, Cole Abrams, are linked. Abrams was developing the software for Waggoner’s immersive technology that’s supposed to revolutionize the movie industry.”
They all went on for a few minutes, speculating that Waggoner might have murdered Abrams to steal his technology. Darby even brought up the possibility that Waggoner and Asimov were working together. It was all conjecture, not based on anything factual.
As they discussed various scenarios, I took a moment, sifting through what we knew about both cases, and the parties involved. My adrenaline spiked as things began to fall into place.
I thought I knew who killed both Bert Prince and Cole Abrams.
FIFTY-SIX
“Do you remember that woman who was at Bert Prince’s funeral—the one who went to pieces during his burial service?” I said to Leo and Darby.
While Darby just shrugged, Leo nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t remember who she was.”
I looked at Selfie and Molly. There must be some video of the graveside service at the memorial park. Can you try and pull something up?” While they worked their laptops, I told the others, “Suppose we’ve got this all wrong?”
“What are you talking about? Edna said.
“What if the woman who was at Bert Prince’s services was working for Asimov to divert money from the Princes’ accounts and also steal Cole Abrams’ immersive technology?”
Darby shook his head. “Dole was Prince’s lover. You ask me, the feds got it wrong. She was the thief working with him. There was nobody else involved.”
“I’ve got something,” Selfie said a moment later. “Somebody posted the burial service on YouTube.”
We all watched as the young woman dressed in black came out of the crowd of mourners and threw herself on Prince’s casket. The scene only lasted for a couple of minutes before the pastor and another man came over and escorted her away.
I looked at Darby. “Does she look familiar to you?” He shook his head. I said to Selfie. “Replay the video.” When it was over, I said to Darby, “Well?”
He sighed. “Maybe it’s that Hathaway woman.”
“It’s Morgan Hathaway,” I said to the others. “Her hair was much darker then, and her face was partially covered by the veil. Darby and I only briefly talked to her at Waggoner’s studio, but I’m sure it’s her.”
“What if it is?” Darby said. “It doesn’t prove anything.”
I said to Selfie and Molly. “Can you pull up everything you can find on Hathaway?”
I then said to Darby and the others. “Maybe what Hathaway did doesn’t prove anything, but it does show that she was deeply distressed, or at least gave the appearance of being upset, by Bert Prince’s death. We also know that she was intimately familiar with the immersive technology her boss was trying to acquire and use in his movies.” I looked at Edna, my heart now racing as things further fell into place for me. “What if there were two financial schemes at work in these cases, along with an attempt to steal technology, and the parties all crossed paths.”
His brow became pinched. “You’re losing me. Spell it out for us.”
I took a breath, my excitement growing. “We know that Paulina Kristoff was working for Nicolai Asimov to steal money from Cole Abrams to fund Asimov’s terrorist activities. Let’s suppose for a moment that while working for Abrams, she also became aware of the technology he was inventing and told Asimov about it. Knowing that the invention would be worth a fortune, Asimov became extremely interested. He became so interested, in fact, that maybe he planted an operative in Waggoner’s studio to assist in stealing the technology. Suppose that Morgan Hathaway’s role was to learn everything she could about the immersive technology, at the same time she was already at work behind the scenes stealing millions from Lady Prince and her children.”
“And, when she had the technology, Abrams was no longer useful,” Leo said, playing along.
I nodded. “Abrams was probably tortured to give up the details of the software he was working on. Once they had everything, Hathaway probably shot and killed him, while Blaine and Kristoff were in the soundproof room next door. She then left before Dietz arrived and found the body.”
“And Kristoff?” Edna said. “How does she later end up dead?”
“We know that she fell in love with Cole Abrams. It could be that Hathaway confided in her that Asimov planned to kill Abrams once he acquired his invention, and Kristoff was so upset that she threatened to go to the authorities. Hathaway told Asimov what she’d said, and it was lights out for Kristoff.”
“I’ve got something,” Molly said. “Morgan Leslie Hathaway was born Leslie Ann Raleigh, in Pittsburgh. She was considered a gifted child and attended college at Princeton, where she majored in accounting and finance.” Her voice pitched higher, as she looked up from the computer screen. “After college, she went to work for a private equity fund, where she was caught and prosecuted for falsifying records and embezzling funds. She spent three years in federal prison before being released.” She looked back at her laptop. “She subsequently moved to California, where she changed her name to Morgan Leslie Hathaway. It looks like she had a couple of jobs here and there, but eventually went to work as an assistant to Carlyle Waggoner.”
“At the same time she was secretly working for Nicolai Asimov,” I said. “Hathaway’s background was perfect for the role of stealing from Lady and her children, at the same time cooking the books behind the scenes to make it look like Bert Prince and Marisha Dole were embezzling their funds. They were both set up for the entire scheme.”
Darby scratched his fleshy chin. “Why didn’t the feds pick up on Hathaway when they did their investigation?”
“She was Carlyle Waggoner’s assistant and had no direct connection to the Princes. She probably wasn’t even a blip on their radar.”
“But how does Addison Blaine fit into all this?” Edna asked. “How does she get set up to take the fall for both murders?”
“Morgan Hathaway had to know that Addison Blaine and Bert Prince had been involved at one time. When Dole walked on the murder charges, Addison was part of the backup plan. She was the perfect candidate to go down for Bert’s murder as a scorned lover, and also for Abrams’ murder, because she was jealous of his involvement with Kristoff.”
Leo took up the story. “With Blaine out of the picture, the plan was probably for both Hathaway and Kristoff to continue to pilfer from Abrams’ accounts, making sure they had everything they needed regarding his movie technology. It could also be that their original plan was to have Blaine take the fall for the theft from Abrams’ accounts, but she became aware of what was happening and told Abrams.”
“And Waggoner’s involvement?” Darby asked, maybe finally coming on board with the theory.
“He’s probably just a g
reedy producer who was aware of Abrams’ invention and wanted to acquire it,” I said. “When Hathaway went to work for him, she probably told him that she had some insight into the process and could help with the plan to obtain it. She may have even stolen portions of the technology for Asimov while Waggoner was working with Abrams on acquiring it.”
“But why would Hathaway tell us about it?” Darby asked. “If she’d just kept quiet, we might have never made the connection about her and Waggoner’s interest in the technology.”
“I think I might be able to answer that,” Selfie said. “Since we found out about the technology, I found several references to it on the Internet, and about Waggoner’s interest in it. She probably assumed we would eventually find out about it, and thought if she mentioned it to us, there wouldn’t be any suspicions raised.”
“And Hathaway’s histrionics at Prince’s funeral,” Molly asked. “Why do you suppose she acted like she’d lost her lover?”
“Maybe she did,” Leo said. “This is Hollywood, and there was no bigger player than Bert.”
I agreed with what he said. “Hathaway might have been sleeping with Bert to facilitate the embezzlement of his family’s funds. If they were involved, everyone probably knew about it and expected that she’d be upset at his death, hence the acting job at his funeral.”
Edna blew out a lungful of air that was peppered with an expletive, then said, “This was one big cluster fuck, with Asimov using Hathaway and Kristoff to steal millions for his fucking terrorist activities. Where do we go from here?”
“We go arrest Morgan Hathaway for the murder of Bert Prince.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
Edna insisted on going with us to Morgan Hathaway’s house in Beverly Hills. Since Bernie was back on duty, the lieutenant rode in a separate car with Leo, while Bernie and I got stuck with Darby. It was late morning by the time we all left the station.
Carlyle Waggoner’s assistant lived in a guest house that was at the rear of a property owned by Jason Breen, a former NBA player. The property was gated and behind tall hedges.
Darby was driving as we stopped at the gates and announced ourselves to a servant over the security system.
“We need to see Morgan Hathaway on police business,” Darby barked. “Open the gates, now.”
“What is this matter regarding?” a man asked, with the hint of a foreign accent I couldn’t place.
“It’s regarding us throwing your ass in jail, unless you let us in now.”
“One moment, please,” the servant said.
“Open the fucking gate, NOW, or we’ll break it down.”
Sometimes, being an asshole has its advantages. Intimidation prevailed, and the gates swung open. Darby stomped on the gas and followed a circular driveway in front of the main house, before finding a separate driveway leading to the rear of the property. We found the guesthouse Hathaway was living in near the estate’s swimming pool. She had apparently already been alerted to our arrival, because she met us on the front porch of her home.
“What’s this all about?” Hathaway demanded. She was wearing a robe, no makeup, and her hair was mussed.
“This is about your involvement in the murder of Bert Prince,” Darby barked.
“What? This is complete nonsense.” Despite her denials, I saw the pupils of her blue eyes widen.
“Let’s go inside, where we can talk,” I said to her, tugging on Bernie’s leash. As Leo took over, escorting her into the house, I lowered my voice and said to Edna, “I think this is a situation where less is more.”
“What are you talking about?”
I motioned for him to follow me. We walked a few feet toward the swimming pool, where I said, “I’m talking about you taking Darby for a walk, or maybe for coffee, or just someplace where he won’t interfere. Leo and I can handle this. We don’t need the intimidation factor.”
The lieutenant exhaled. “I understand. Call me if you need anything.”
Ten minutes later, with Edna and Darby gone, Leo and I sat down with Hathaway in the small dining room of her cottage, while Bernie settled at my feet. As we laid out what we thought we knew about the embezzlement from the Princes and Abrams, she continued to protest her innocence, until I mentioned her criminal past.
“You did time in federal prison for falsifying financial records and embezzling funds from the equity fund you worked for. That history came in handy when you went to work for Nicolai Asimov.”
Hathaway closed her eyes and exhaled. Several seconds passed before she finally said, “You know.”
“We know everything,” I said firmly, knowing that cops often got to the truth by making it sound like they knew more than they did.
“Tell us about you and Asimov,” Leo said, lowering his baritone voice.
Hathaway sat there, not speaking, with her eyes still closed, for close to a minute. When she spoke, there was resignation in her voice. “I did it for the money, but I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Tell us how it all went down.”
Hathaway brushed the blonde hair out of her eyes when they finally opened and began telling us how she came to be involved with a terrorist. “When I was in prison, there was a lot of stuff going on behind the scenes. After a few months, I learned there was an entire underground network that was connected to radical groups. I ended up getting to know an inmate who told me about someone she knew who was working for a guy who paid a lot of money for certain tasks. To make a long story short, I needed the money and went to work for him. He, in turn, eventually connected me with some other people who knew Nicolai.” She looked at me. “You probably know most of the rest of the story.”
We spent the next few minutes confirming that she went to work for Carlyle Waggoner as a means to steal from the Princes and gain access to Cole Abrams’ technology.
“Originally, Nicolai’s plan was for me to just set the embezzlement scheme in place with Danika Kirkland by having us both falsify the financial records and frame Bert and Marisha for everything. He washed the money through a couple of false corporations and sent it offshore. I never saw any of it once it left the Prince family accounts.”
“Was Kirkland on Asimov’s payroll?” I asked.
“He didn’t have to pay her. Danika believed in the jihad and would do anything for Nicolai. When things began to unravel and Nicolai became worried that Bert’s attorney would talk about Danika being involved, he sent her to take Swenson out, using Marisha Dole’s car. He knew that Swenson would have security cameras at his estate, the car would be identified as belonging to Dole, and she would go down for the murder. When Danika was almost caught in the act of killing Swenson, she panicked, and…” She looked away from me, shaking her head. “I guess you could say she died for Nicolai and her beliefs.”
“How much were you paid for your role in everything?” Leo asked.
She folded her arms and chuckled. “A couple hundred thousand, but it was nothing compared to what Nicolai ended up with.” Her eyes grew heavy. “The money was secondary, anyway. I secretly became involved with Bert to gain access to his family’s bank accounts with Danika, but...” She released a heavy breath. “Bert was special. He was unlike any man I’ve ever known.”
I now understood why Hathaway had thrown herself on Prince’s casket. She not only was sleeping with him, she’d been in love with him.
“And Cole Abrams?” I asked. “How did he fit into everything that happened?”
“Paulina and I were both operatives, trained by Nicolai. He knew Cole was worth a fortune and used Paulina to do the same thing Danika and I were doing with the Princes. When she learned about the immersive technology Cole was working on, Paulina told me about it.” She smiled. “As they say, the rest is history. I used my position with Waggoner and took what he already knew about the technology and the documents Paulina stole, and gave it all to Nicolai.”
“And you tortured him for the technology,” Leo said.
She shook her head. “I don’t torture or kill p
eople. Nicolai has other people for that.”
“People who eventually killed him?”
“Probably. I wasn’t privy to the details.”
“And Paulina?” I said. “When he was finished using her, he killed her and made it look like a suicide.”
Hathaway nodded. “I planted the gun in Addison’s car, but when we realized it was on video, we had to find someone else to go down for Cole’s murder. Paulina was the only option, especially since she was in love with him.”
“What’s your relationship with Nicolai Asimov now?” Leo asked. “Do you know where he is?”
Her eyes became unfocused. “I have no idea. All I know is that his people are trying to kill me. They made an attempt on my life last night, but I got away.” She met Leo’s eyes. “I need you to put me into protective custody.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Leo said before glancing at me. He then looked back at her. “We have just one more question: If you didn’t kill Bert Prince, who did?”
Hathaway folded her arms and exhaled. “I might be a lot of things, including a thief, Detective, but, as I said, I’m not a killer. It was his daughter.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
“It was a payback,” Morgan Hathaway said. “Bert Prince failed to protect the daughter he and Lady adopted from his own perverted son.”
Leo and I exchanged glances. “Are you talking about Florence?” I said.
She nodded. “From what Carlyle told me, Bruce had been molesting her for years and nobody made any attempt to stop it.”
“So she confronted her father in his den and shot him,” I said, thinking about Griselda Lugosi’s words, that the killing was about something being stolen that can’t be returned.
She nodded. “I was at the house with Carlyle for a meeting with Sly Sylvester and Marisha Dole. I’d gone to the bathroom and when I was about to leave I saw everything. After Florence left, I took the gun. My original thought was to use it to frame Dole, but Nicolai said she’d be in prison on the embezzlement charges anyway and had me use it to frame Blaine. He said she would go down for both murders and our problems would be solved.”
