Hollywood Outlaw: A Hollywood Alphabet SeriesThriller (A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Book 15) (3 page)

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lieutenant Edna said after we managed to wrestle the gun away from the shooter and handcuff him. Edna had joined us, while the other officers pushed the crowd back from the scene. “Why’d he shoot him?”

“According to a witness, he made some vague statement about being unlawfully detained and his rights being violated,” I said.

The officer’s wound was superficial, but an ambulance had been called. We’d also requested additional resources for crowd control.

Edna pulled out his phone. “I need to let Dembowski know what happened.” As he worked the keypad, he added, “As soon as we get some more of our people here, let’s get the fucking interviews started before somebody else does something stupid.”

No sooner had the lieutenant spoken than we were told the reporters in front of the residence were causing a disturbance. We all went into the street, where we saw that several reporters had pushed through the barricades when the shooting occurred.

“Lieutenant Henrietta,” a female reporter said to Edna. “Is it true there’s a riot going on and that Bert Prince is dead?”

Edna was in his fifties, with unruly gray hair. Something about his demeanor reminded me of a rabid dog as he yelled, “Get the fuck back behind the barricades or you’re all going to jail!”

“We have a duty to cover the story!” another reporter shouted. “It’s our first amendment right.”

“You have a fucking right to spend the night in jail if you don’t do as you’re told.” Edna turned to a couple of uniforms. “Sweep the goddamned street. I want them all behind the fucking barricades. If anyone resists, throw their ass in jail.”

As the officers began moving out, I pulled the lieutenant aside. “Remember, everything we do or say anymore is on video. You don’t want the press saying you were abusive.”

He huffed out a breath. “You’re right. I just can’t stand these people and them calling me Henrietta.”

Henrietta was the name everyone was now using for Lieutenant Henry Edna. A few months back, another reporter had run together his first and last names, resulting in the unwanted moniker. Needless to say, Henrietta had more than a few meltdowns regarding the nickname, not to mention numerous rants, all of them involving an adjective that began with f.

I steered him back toward the house, like a mother with a wayward child. “Let it go. We just need to clear the scene ASAP and move on.”

A half hour later, we broke into teams to do GSR testing and conduct interviews. After Darby lodged a complaint about being pushed aside in a recent case, Edna made the decision to team him with me. None of the testing showed anything positive, so we began the interviews with Lady Prince’s daughters.

Darby and I took the three women into a guest house overlooking the pool and began by asking for more details about Bailey Nolan. We learned that all the sisters felt Nolan was a gold digger, but, in contrast to her sisters, Florence felt Bert’s ex wasn’t capable of violence.

Paris took exception to what she’d said, sweeping her golden hair to the side and saying, “All I know is that I saw the bitch take a swing at Bert more than once. I think she’s unstable.”

“What about other problems Bert might have been having with anyone else, maybe friends or business associates?” I asked.

Monaco gave us her opinion. “Bert had problems with everyone, so if you’re looking for suspects, I’d say everyone at Nirvana at one time or another wanted to kill him.”

“Why is that?” Darby asked.

After Paris and Monaco described their stepfather as a driven egomaniac, Florence gave us her opinion. “My father was someone who was used to getting his way. He wasn’t happy if someone disagreed with him.”

“You adopted?” Darby bluntly asked her.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes. I’m originally from Saint Kitts. I was adopted when I was five.”

“What about your daddy?” he asked her sisters. “He in the picture?” When Paris and Monaco laughed, he said, “What’s so damn funny?”

“You must not watch our show,” Monaco said. “Our father is Ronald Collins, and...”

“He’s never been in the picture,” Paris said, finishing her sentence.

“Collins?” Darby said, scratching the sparse hair on his head.

“The former governor?” I asked, looking at the two women.

Paris smirked at Darby. “Daddy dearest has been dead for over a decade, so you can probably rule him out as a suspect.”

I realized there was a lot I didn’t know about the Princes and would need to make a point of brushing up on the family history, including watching their TV show. “What about…” I checked my notepad. “…your agent, Marisha? I understand she and your stepfather had issues.”

“Marisha looked out for our interests,” Paris said. “She and Bert disagreed, but it was just a matter of business.” Her sisters agreed with what she’d said.

We spent another half hour with the three women, not getting anything useful. I was about to end the interview when I thought about the director of their show. “We understand that Sly Sylvester was with your stepfather a couple of hours before he died. Can you tell us about their relationship?”

Paris answered. “Sly’s a perv and a pain, but he’s no killer. He and Bert always argued, but it was just part of putting the show together.”

“When you say he’s a perv,” Darby said, “what do you mean?”

Paris looked at her sisters. “I think he’s hit on all of us at one time.” She got nods from the other two women. “He’s a sex addict and can’t control himself. He even hit on Bruce once.”

“Bruce?” I asked.

“Our brother,” Monaco said. She must have seen my confusion. “He’s part of the family, Bert’s son by Bailey.” She pointed through the window. “He’s on the chair over by the pool.”

I took their phone numbers and said we’d be in touch. As Darby and I walked over to talk to Bruce Prince, I said to him, “I’m feeling a little out of my element with the family dynamics. You ever watched the show?”

“A couple of times, but it’s not my thing.” His gaze wandered over to Edna, who was talking to Leo. “This place is what the lieutenant would call one big fuck show. And, the problem is, I think we’re gonna end up with more suspects than we know what to do with.”

We went over and introduced ourselves to Bruce Prince. He looked to be in his late twenties and was handsome, with brown hair and green eyes, features he’d shared with his dead father.

After some preliminaries, the young man gave us some more family background. “My father married Lady about seven years ago.” He took a moment, trying to compose himself. I noticed that his green eyes were about the same color as mine, but they were bloodshot. He finally went on. “We’re kind of like the Brady Bunch on steroids, with a camera always in our faces.”

“That must be difficult,” Darby said, “having everything you do always caught on camera.”

Bruce swept the hair off his forehead and sucked in a breath. He was about six feet tall and something about his demeanor brought the word
charming
to mind. “You get used to it after a while, but I don’t deny that it can be a pain in the ass.”

When the conversation turned to the death of his father, his eyes filled. We gave him a moment to compose himself before I said, “Tell us about your father, who you think might have wanted to harm him.”

He wiped his tears on the sleeve of his shirt and shook his head. “I can’t really say. He didn’t have a lot of friends, probably because of his personality, but I can’t think of anyone who would want to kill him.”

“You guys get along?” Darby asked, fixing his muddy eyes on him.

He sniffed, controlling his emotions. “I guess you could say that my dad and I had a pretty superficial relationship in recent years. He was driven by his business interests, and…” He choked up again and didn’t go on.

I met Darby’s eyes for a moment while we waited for our victim’s son to regain some composure. Even though I knew his father had affairs, I wanted his take on the situation. “What about other women?” I asked, after he’d controlled his emotions. “Was your father involved with anyone?”

He chuckled. “Of course. Lots of women. I could probably give you a list of names.”

“And your stepmother, how did she feel about that?”

“They were together only for the TV show. Lady and my dad…they had an arrangement. They both saw other people, but kept it on the down low.”

“Does anyone on the list you’re going to give us come to mind as someone who might have wanted to harm your father, someone like Marisha or your mother?”

He laughed. “Marisha and my dad have…I mean,
had
their issues, but it was superficial. As for my mother…” His mirth was gone now. “She and my dad also had problems, but she’s not the type to kill someone.” His gaze drifted off. “I think, on some level, she still loved him.”

I made arrangements for him to text me with the names and information of the women that his father had been involved with before ending the interview. Darby and I then met up with Leo and Buck. We took a few minutes as we all filled in one another on what we’d learned.

“Didn’t get a whole lot,” Leo said, after Darby and I told them about our interviews. “We interviewed Sly Sylvester, the director. He admitted lots of conflict with the vic, but said it was just business.”

“I think he’s pretty superficial,” Buck agreed. He motioned to the Prince sisters, who were chatting with a group of people on the patio. “I talked to Florence a couple of minutes ago. She said that Marisha Dole, their agent, called. She apparently just heard about the shooting and is on her way over here. Florence also confided in me that Bert and Marisha were involved at one time.”

“From what it sounds like,” Darby said, “Bert Prince hooked up with half the women in LA.”

Edna came over, and we filled him in on our interviews and told him that none of the GSR tests had turned up anything positive.

The lieutenant summed up his thoughts. “So we got a dead man, a house full of crazies, and a wounded cop. Everything was caught on tape, and we got enough suspects to fill the Hollywood Bowl. Somebody just take my fucking gun and shoot me.”

Marisha Dole arrived a half hour later. We gave her a few minutes to offer some comfort to Lady and her daughters. She then agreed to meet with us in one of Nirvana’s many bedrooms that had been converted to offices for the TV show. Leo and Buck joined Darby and me as the interview began.

“This is the worst day of my life,” Marisha said after she took a seat across from Darby and me. “I can’t begin to imagine what the girls and Lady are going through.”

The agent for Lady and her daughters looked to be in her mid-thirties, with silky brown hair. She was pretty, with even features. Something about her reminded me of Jaclyn Smith, the actress from the old
Charlie’s Angels
TV show.

“Tell us about your relationship with Bert,” Darby said, taking the lead.

Dole pinched the bridge of her nose. “Wow. I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Maybe you should begin by telling us about the affair you had with him.”

I glared at Darby and bit my lip. It was a common practice in police work not to provide a potential suspect with details pertinent to an investigation. Giving our interview subject enough rope to either hang herself or tell the truth was pertinent to our investigation. My co-worker had just violated a cardinal rule out of stupidity or arrogance, I wasn’t sure which.

Dole smiled. “It sounds like you’ve already gotten the dirt.” She took a moment, sweeping her beautiful hair to one side. “Bert and I were involved a couple of years ago, before I became the agent for Lady and her daughters. It was a mistake and something that I confessed to Lady before I went to work for her. She said she understood and that she and Bert had an open marriage.”

Darby smirked. “How long were you together?”

“About six months, off and on. I realized he wasn’t the monogamous type and moved on.”

“How did you come to represent Lady and her daughters?” I asked, before Darby could display more of his ignorance.

“Lady and I actually became friends right after I confessed what happened between Bert and me. She confided that she wasn’t happy with the way Bert was handling their financial arrangements and asked if I would intervene. I eventually took over and made sure that the money Lady and the girls made from the show, their endorsements, and fashion lines couldn’t be touched by Bert.”

“That must have made him angry,” Leo said.

She nodded. “It did. We’ve had what you might call a hot and cold relationship since then.”

“More like cold from what we’ve heard,” Darby said.

She smiled. “It’s all been documented as part of the show. It’s actually made for some good drama.”

“Maybe it’s been more than just drama. Maybe you had enough of Bert trying to control everything.”

She laughed. “Really? You really think I shot the asshole.” Her gaze moved off. “He wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Any idea who might have wanted him dead?” Buck asked, tugging at his shirt collar. I had the impression he’d also had enough of Darby.

Dole massaged her neck and smiled. “I’m sure you’ve got a list of people he had problems with, but no one specifically comes to mind.”

We spent another half hour with Dole. She gave us lots of names, most of them women, who had either business or personal contact with our victim. She added to our already lengthy list of subjects to follow up on, but nothing we got seemed very useful.

Dole was about to leave when I said, “Just for our reports, we’re going to need to know where you were earlier in the day.”

She stood up. “I spent most of the afternoon with my hairdresser, then took a nap. I was at a club when I got the call about Bert. I’ll give you the name and contact information for anyone who might have seen me.”

We completed the remaining interviews and finished processing the scene before leaving Nirvana a couple of hours later. We hadn’t been able to complete our interview with Lady Prince because she was still sleeping off the tea her attendant had given her. By the time we left the estate, I decided Darby was right. We had a ton of potential suspects, but nothing definitive in terms of a motive. All I did know was that the case would take a lot of legwork, and the brass was already breathing down Lieutenant Edna’s neck about breaking something loose.

I agreed to give Natalie and Mo a ride to our temporary staycation home at the Mission Bell Inn in the hills above Malibu. The refurbished inn had a spectacular view of the ocean, but was only about forty-five minutes from Hollywood. When we arrived I was still wound up over the night’s events, so I agreed to meet my friends on the outdoor deck for a nightcap.

After settling in on the deck, Natalie, who considered herself a cocktail connoisseur, ordered us all something called Malibu Madness, guaranteeing it would help us sleep like babies. I’d suffered some of Natalie’s drink priors that had left me with a hangover, so I went slow on the offering as my friends tried to pump me for details about the murder investigation.

“There’s not a lot I can tell you at this point,” I said, after tasting my drink. It was a combination of rum and fruit juices, and reminded me of a trip I’d made to Hawaii with my boyfriend Noah a few weeks back. I looked at my friends. “Since you both worked for the Princes, what are your thoughts on who might have been involved?”

Natalie gave us her opinion. “I heard Bert did the squirt before he went tits up. You ask me, it was a payback.”

“What kind of payback?”

Mo chugged half her drink, then explained, “Baby sis means that some slapper wasn’t happy about making Bert a happy boy.”

“You think he might have forced someone to…to service him?”

“Bert tried to shag anything that walked, including yours truly,” Natalie said.

“You didn’t…”

“’Course not. I got me standards and I’m still with Izzy.”

Izzy Cluck was Natalie’s boyfriend. He’d recently opened a magic shop in Hollywood, and their relationship seemed solid.

“You ask me,” Mo said, after smacking her lips together in approval of her drink, “it mighta had something to do with money. Every time I seen Bert, he was arguing with somebody ‘bout finances, including his producer. You might want to lean on him.”

“Who is that?”

Mo scratched her blonde wig. “I think his name is Waggoner or somethin’ like that. He’s a big shot in TV land.”

“Carlyle Waggoner,” Natalie confirmed. “They say he’s behind half the shows on the telly and has more money than Jimmy Buffet.”

“You must mean
Warren
Buffet.”

“Whatever. I also saw him and Bert going at it a time or two. I think they had a difference of opinion ‘bout the TV show.”

I scribbled Waggoner’s name on a scrap of paper and said, “We’ll be sure to talk to him.”

We went on, chatting about the case for a few minutes before I asked Natalie about Bernie.

“I took him to his physical therapy earlier today. Marlo, she’s the trainer, thinks he’ll be able to come home in the next week or so.”

“Did she think he’d be able to return to work?”

“Probably light duty, but you’ll have to ask Noah and Lieutenant potty-mouth ‘bout that.”

“Speaking of Noah,” Mo said, “what’s the latest with you two?”

Noah Fraser was a veterinarian at the hospital where Bernie had been treated. We’d been involved in a relationship for several weeks, but things had recently been put on hold. Noah had been injured during the Iraq War and had lost a leg. He hadn’t bothered to tell me he’d been engaged at the time, or that his wounds and ensuing depression had ended the engagement. He’d recently confided in me that his injuries and experiences during the war had made him question whether or not he could be involved with someone who worked in a dangerous occupation. He’d also insinuated that my drive to find my love-dad’s killer bordered on obsession.

“We’re what you might call in limbo,” I told Mo. “We have lots of issues to work out.”

Her dark eyes swung over to Natalie. “Seems like we got us what you would call a reoccurring pattern here.”

Natalie agreed. “You seem to attract men who have a lot of issues, Kate. Maybe you should find yourself a virgin, like Hermes Krump.”

I laughed. Krump was a lawyer who had pulled off a minor miracle by winning our mobile home eviction hearing. He’d physically and emotionally fallen apart before somehow pulling himself together and appearing in court, where he’d won our case.

“I don’t think Krump’s my type,” I said.

“Just give the bloke some penis pills, put a bag over his head, and you’re all set.”

I sipped my drink. “Somehow, being involved with a man who wears a bag doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Speaking of Krump,” Mo said, “Nana said she’s gonna ask him to represent her on the will that’s being contested by Claude’s family.”

Our elderly former landlord, Nana Hannah, had inherited a fortune after her husband, Claude, had dropped dead on her wedding day. She’d refused to sign a prenup and had inherited his entire estate, much to the chagrin of her dead husband’s ghoulish relatives. When Nana wasn’t spending her inheritance or hosting a TV show featuring celebrities talking about their sex lives, she made a habit of showing up unexpectedly and annoying the hell out of me.

Natalie ordered us another round of drinks over my protest. After the server left, I said, “All I know is that Nana’s got her work cut out for her if Krump’s involved.” I remembered that the novice lawyer was so nervous that he’d peed his pants before our eviction hearing. I added, “I’m not sure he can hold himself together in court.”

“Nana wants me and baby sis to be there at the hearing for moral support,” Mo said.

“And keep Krump in diapers,” Natalie added.

I sighed. “Better you both than me. I don’t think I’m up to another go-around with Krump.”

Mo and Natalie exchanged glances, before Mo said to me, “You seem a little down. What’s the latest on trying to find your bio-dad?”

“Leo and I went by to see Pearl today, but got called away to the Prince murder before we could talk to him.”

“You really think he’s your daddy?” Natalie asked.

“I really don’t know. All I do know was that Pearl was friends with Oz back when my love-dad was murdered, and Oz’s last words were about Pearl.”

Mo regarded me. “If he is your daddy, it would mean that you’re a half-sister.”

“Black is beautiful,” Natalie said to me. “And you’re one of the most beautiful people I know.”

I felt my eyes misting up and hugged her. “Thank you.”

We spent another twenty minutes finishing our second drink and speculating about Pearl possibly being my father. Natalie then summed up her thoughts. “If he is your bio-dad, it means he’s got a big secret.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Whoever was behind the killing of your love-dad must also have a whole lotta dirt on Pearl. Otherwise, why would he hide out in plain sight all these years and not tell you the truth?”