In another engrossing foray into the mind of a killer, Joe McGinniss investigates the passion and paranoia that drove Nancy Kissel to murder her husband, Rob, a heavy hitter in the Hong Kong offices of two major U.S. investment banks. Violence has plagued the Kissel family, as Rob's death by bludgeoning was followed by his brother's unsolved stabbing death in Greenwich, Connecticut. But this first tragedy began in the steamy, risky climate of Hong Kong, where hundreds of Wall Streeters transport their young families to make a vast fortune—or in the Kissel case, to die trying.
On November 6, 2003, police in Hong Kong found the body of Rob Kissel, one of the most prominent investment bankers in Asia, in a storage room. The previous Sunday, his wife, Nancy, had bludgeoned him to death with a lead statue. Hours before she killed her husband, Nancy Kissel laced a pink milkshake with knockout drugs and instructed their daughter to serve the concoction to her father. For two gruesome days, Nancy then kept the remains hidden in the couple's bedroom in one of the most desirable residences in Hong Kong. Rob's death also brought to a tragic conclusion the Kissels' fractious marriage—Nancy had embarked on a torrid stateside affair with Michael Del Priore, whom Rob had contracted to install a vacation–house screening room. Before his death, Rob had discovered the romance by hiring a private investigator to keep tabs on his wife. This excerpt from Never Enough begins with the family's arrival in Hong Kong, when what seemed like marital bliss started to unravel.
Ten years ago, Hong Kong was the most dynamic, hypersensitive financial nerve center in the world. For more than a decade, Asian societies, led by Japan, had been honing their economic systems to a fine point, promoting the economic myth of the "Asian miracle." Asia would own the 21st century, media oracles said. Financiers rushed to stake their claim. Banks loaned money, mutual funds bought stocks and bonds, investors built factories and office buildings, currency traders sold deutsche marks and dollars to buy baht and won and rupiah. The first ones into this market would always be first. If it was already too late to get in on the ground floor, there was plenty of space on the mezzanine. Hong Kong seemed the perfect place for Goldman Sachs to send a rising star like Rob Kissel. He rejoiced when he learned he'd be heading there. "They only send winners," he told friends. "This means I'm on the fast track to make partner. Hong Kong is the key to the mint."
Rob was the son of a New Jersey chemical engineer who had struck it rich making dry toner for printer cartridges. He knew that only by making a fortune of his own would he be able to impress his harsh, demanding father. Rob saw Wall Street as the most direct route to the millions he was determined to acquire. He enrolled at New York University's Stern School of Business in the fall of 1987. On vacation at a Club Med resort in the Caribbean, he met the brash, insouciant Nancy Keeshin, a 23–year–old Californian who worked as a waitress in a Greenwich Village restaurant. Nancy had come east to attend the Parsons School of Design, but the bright lights of the big city had proved too distracting and she'd quit after a year to take a job at Caliente Cab Company, a popular West Village restaurant. The work pace was hectic but it couldn't compare to the cocaine–fueled after–hours social life. Nancy had the looks, the energy, and the attitude to flourish, and she did. She partied fervidly. She attracted attention and reveled in it. She felt New York was the stage on which she'd been born to perform.
