I, Kelly Canyon, actor and novelist, returned to my roots. After the murder of Robert and Lana Doyles, and the attempt on Hollywood’s newest hunk, Lance Cruz, the filming on my crime drama television series was on hiatus. Now was the perfect time to hunt down the man who killed my father.
My grandmother, Ruthie, stayed busy planning her wedding, my own Hollywood hunk, Brock “Handsome” Hanson was filming on location in Australia and wouldn’t return for a few more days. Now was the perfect opportunity to get into trouble with my trusty sidekick and German Shepherd, Shutterbug.
So, here I was, hiding in the bushes behind the mansion that once belonged to the deceased Doyles, but now belonged to crime boss, Martin Rossi. I snapped photo after photo of him swimming in the pool, pacing the deck, and talking on his cell phone. I had no proof, but my gut told me he was the one responsible for my father’s death more than ten years ago. All I needed was evidence.
Shutterbug’s head whipped to the side. Her ears stood as straight as soldiers. Rossi had a visitor.
I hesitated. Should I stay or go? My intuition said, stay. Can I mention I wasn’t surprised to see Cheryl Downs, the pretty little chef of the now-deceased Robert Doyles? An opportunist, she seemed to have moved from one sugar daddy to another, if the heated kiss she gave him was any indication. Gross. The man had to be thirty years older. I nabbed a couple of photos and crept from the bushes back to where my 1970 Aqua Camaro convertible waited in front of nosy Iris Beacon’s house.
If you needed information on someone and couldn’t find it, the aging movie star was the one to go to. She peered over her privacy fence. “Steamy, isn’t it? Shameful.” She grinned.
“It’s disgusting.” I clipped Shutterbug into the front passenger seat.
“That isn’t the only little chickadee flitting around him.” She wiggled her thinly-tweezed, penciled-on eyebrows.
“Do tell.” I returned her grin and leaned against the car. “Although gossip is wrong, my friend.”
“Not gossip if it’s the truth.” She lowered her voice. “That agent, Hilga, comes by regularly. That’s not rumor, but this is. I heard from the grocery delivery boy that he heard Rossi wants to be in the movies.”
“Really?” I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. Some people will never have enough money.”
It wasn’t the acting. Rossi had to have his mind set on something bigger. What if he tried to purchase the studio from the elusive Eric James Johnson III? If Rossi put the hit out on my father and bought the studio, a target could very well be put on Ruthie and me.
“Gotta go, Iris. Thanks.” Rushing to the driver’s side, I jumped in and sped home. I burst through the front door. “Ruthie!”
“Outside.”
I found her lounging by the pool. “Did you hear that Rossi wants to join the Hollywood scene?”
She pulled down her large sunglasses and peered over the top. “As in movies?”
“That’s what Iris said she heard from someone who heard from someone.”
“Then it’s reliable. The grapevine is usually accurate.” She replaced her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Do you think he’s wanting to buy property here? Expand past Vegas?”
I plopped into the chair next to her. “It crossed my mind.”
This time she fully removed her glasses. “That wouldn’t be good, Kelly. With you suspecting him of killing Kevin, having him so close to us all the time…well, he did kind of threaten you a few months ago at Lana’s dinner party.”
How could I forget? I’d dressed up, preparing myself to flirt with the man—which I was horrible at by the way—only to have the man see through my ruse and admit to having known my father. Sometimes I thought my dad had been the only honest officer left on the force. Then I’d met Lori Lawrence who had been his girlfriend at the time of his death and realized there had been at least two on the up and up. Lori and I were now close friends and worked together to find his killer. Along with Lori and me was my new-found half-brother, the son of one of Dad’s even earlier girlfriends. Life was complicated.
“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I leaned back and closed my eyes. “How’s the wedding planning coming?”
She smiled. “Amazing. We’re right on target for next weekend’s celebration.” She faced me, her lips pressing together. “Don’t ruin my wedding with any dead bodies, Kelly.”
I’d laugh at her remark if it didn’t ring true. Most of the time when Ruthie threw a party, someone ended up dead. “Where’s Morgan?”
“Tux-fitting. He’s starting to stress about Brock being gone so long.”
“He’ll be here in time.” My honey had yet to let me down on anything. Hollywood’s Golden Boy was as good inside as he was gorgeous. I smiled remembering his proposal. I’d said yes, but asked him to wait to make the announcement until the excitement of Ruthie’s wedding was over. He’d sweetly agreed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I’m not laughing.”
Ruthie made a noise in her throat. “You look as if you’re up to something.”
“Not me.” I feigned surprise.
“Whatever.”
A shadow fell over us. I opened my eyes to see Morgan staring down at his future bride. He’d been in love with my grandmother since he’d first seen her years ago as an exotic dancer. Then, she’d gotten her big break at acting, and here we all were.
Morgan leaned down and kissed Ruthie. “What are you two up to?”
She explained our conversation. Morgan frowned. “Looks like I’ll be playing bodyguard again.”
“Sweetheart, you’ll have to keep me out of trouble for the rest of your days.” Ruthie patted his cheek. “You’ll love every minute of it.”
“When you aren’t scaring the daylights out of me, yes.” He kissed her again. “I picked up my tux. It didn’t need further alteration, so I need to put it away. I’ll have Sarah fix us a tray of tea and I’ll join you in a few.”
“Sounds wonderful. Have her make sandwiches, too.”
“Way ahead of you. I know how to do my job.” Sarah Doyles, the former wife of the dead Robert Doyles, became our new chef after keeping me alive when I had to hide out as a homeless person. We’d shared the comfy area under a bridge for a few weeks, then I’d brought her home
Did I mention Ruthie and Sarah have a love/hate relationship?
Sarah set the tray on a patio table, then returned to the house. But not before sending Ruthie a glare. “Oh, and you have company. Lisa is in the restroom. I’ll send her out here.”
“Thank you,” I said. Good. Not only was Lisa my makeup artist but also a close friend and a computer genius. If something was on the internet, she could find it or hack into it. Nothing was safe from her. She really should be working for the FBI.
I headed into the house. I’d rather talk to her about Rossi without Morgan hearing, so when Lisa exited the bathroom, I asked, “Want to go get a coffee somewhere private?”
She tilted her head. “Not a coffeeshop or here, then.”
“Nope. We’ll pick up our coffee and take it to the studio.” I grabbed my purse before hooking Shutterbug’s leash to her collar. My fur baby was the best warning system a girl could have.
Over thirty minutes later, I parked in the lot, and we made a beeline for the trailer. Inside, we sat on the sofa with our legs curled under us and sipped our coffee. I explained the rumor I’d heard about Rossi and the pictures I’d taken. “I’d like you to see what you can find out.”
“That shouldn’t be hard. The man isn’t exactly a private person.” She took another sip of her hot mocha drink. “I can have Lance keep an ear open around the studio.”
“That’s right. He’s filming a new sitcom. Perfect.” Lance Cruz and Lisa hooked up during the Doyles mystery. Since he’d been shot by his biological mother, Lisa stuck close to his side. “Make sure he’s discreet. I don’t think he’d enjoy getting shot again.”
She shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I’ll start digging around tonight. Now, about Cheryl—” She smiled.
“What have you heard?” I straightened.
“Everyone knows Doyles left her money. You must be the last person around here to know she is now the latest arm candy for Rossi. No more chef coats for her. She’s dressing in Armani gowns. Not only that—” she wiggled her eyebrows, “I don’t think it’s Rossi who wants in the movies.”
“Cheryl?” I thought she’d wanted to be a chef.
“Yep. Rossi has been kissing up to Hilga on Cheryl’s behalf.”
“Hmm.” I sat back to digest the information. Relief trickled through me. If he was hanging around because of the young woman, then there probably wasn’t a target on me or Ruthie. I’d have to be careful not to let him know I was digging into his life. “You are quite the fountain of information.”
She shrugged. “It’s a hobby of mine.”
“The strange thing is that Rossi and Hilga were already chummy. Remember the conversation we overheard of him wanting Hilga to get her hands on Doyles’ money so he could be repaid for the man’s debt? Why not just threaten her to sign Cheryl? It’s how he usually does business.”
Shutterbug huffed low in her throat and stared at the trailer door.
Lisa climbed up on her knees to glance out the window. “Why not ask him?”
I got up and followed her gaze. Rossi and Hilga hovered in the empty space between two trailers across from us. I ducked and jerked Lisa down. “Don’t let them see you.”
“How are we going to hear what they’re saying?”
“I don’t know, but they can’t know we’re here.” The last thing I wanted was for someone to tell Brock I’d been shot dead in my makeup trailer.
After we were certain they’d left, mainly because Shutterbug settled down, we slipped out the trailer door and giggled our way to the car.
“I have so much fun around you,” Lisa said. “Do you think the wedding will go off without a murder?”
I crossed my fingers and held my hand high. “I hope so.”