A is for Actress (Malibu Mystery Book 1)

by Rebecca Cantrell

  It seemed that Sofia wasn’t the only person who had overheard the gossipy woman. Little Vinny’s face lit up. “Oh yeah, I saw that video.”

  Melissa was at the counter with Big Mike and was busy filling in what Sofia guessed was the wire transfer authorization. She seemed to be trying to draw it out as long as possible. Sofia didn’t blame her. Nigel’s life insurance money wouldn’t cover a woman like Melissa for long. She needed enough money to grab the next wealthy guy who passed her way.

  It was time for Sofia to make her move. She planned on wrapping her arms and legs around the nearest desk and demanding to speak to a manager. That ought to get enough attention to drive Little Vinny and Big Mike out of the bank.

  As if he read her mind, Little Vinny tightened his grip around her elbow. “We should get you back to the clinic,” he said to Sofia, raising his voice to match hers.

  Oh crap.

  Little Vinny smiled at the woman who had taken the picture and was busy taking even more. He raised his voice so that everyone in the bank could hear him. “We need to get you back to the rehab clinic. Where you’re being held under court order.”

  Double crap. So much for her plan to stay in the bank. Now Little Vinny was pretty much free to drag her out of the bank kicking and screaming. Everyone would just assume he was from the rehab facility and taking her back into treatment.

  Even if she tried to explain, people probably wouldn’t believe her. Whatever she said would be interpreted as a drug-crazed celeb trying to avoid going cold turkey. Staying in the bank and waiting for help to arrive wasn’t an option anymore.

  She had to get away from Little Vinny and Big Mike. She could make a run for it. But not on her own. There was no way she was going to leave Melissa to the tender mercies of Big Mike. He’d kill her as soon as he got the money.

  A side effect of Little Vinny’s loud public announcement was that more and more customers and staff were looking over at her. The whispers were growing louder. A teenage girl who’d come in with her mom took a sneaky picture. Her mom dug her in the ribs. “Chelsea!”

  Sofia smiled at Chelsea. Maybe there was still a way to turn this to her advantage.

  “Don’t worry,” she called over to the teenager. “Takes as many pictures as you want. Just make sure you get Vincent Chitti here in them, too.”

  The teenager took more pictures and Sofia posed for her. Her mom managed a tight smile.

  Little Vinny turned quickly so that his back was to the teenager and her mom.

  “Come on,” Sofia said. “Don’t be shy.”

  “You’re going to be heading back to the clinic in the trunk of a car if you don’t shut your yap,” he growled.

  Sofia lowered her voice. “You know those pictures are going to be all over social media in about two minutes, right?”

  “We’ll be out of here in two minutes.” Little Vinny said.

  “They’ll still know your name,” she said.

  Little Vinny looked like he didn’t know what to do with that information. He grabbed her elbow and hustled her over to Big Mike and Melissa.

  Little Vinny leaned in to Big Mike. “Get this broad to hurry it up. We got people taking pictures over here.”

  “And filming us,” Sofia added.

  “Damn,” Melissa said, striking through a section on the form. She looked apologetically at Big Mike. “You’d think I’d remember my own address, right?”

  Big Mike glared at Melissa. The stress was clearly getting to him. The longer he and Vinny were out in public, the higher the risk. “You got two minutes to finish up.”

  “You forgot to say capiche,” Sofia added unhelpfully. “Oh, and I could really use my next shot of methadone.”

  Big Mike looked at her like she was crazy. “Vinny, take her out to the car.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine right where I am,” Sofia said.

  “Let’s go,” said Little Vinny, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

  Melissa dropped her pen back down on the counter. “Hey, leave her alone.”

  Sofia realized that it was pretty much now or never. If Vinny dragged her back out to the car, that would probably be the last anyone would see of her. She didn’t think they were planning on taking her for a scenic drive out to wine country. Unless it involved a shovel and garbage bags.

  As Melissa took two steps toward Vinny, Sofia simultaneously bent at the waist, moved her butt out to the side, and dropped down. She brought her left elbow back hard, smashing it into Vinny’s face as he leaned over, trying to maintain her in the bear hug. After her left elbow connected, she moved it forward and threw it back again as hard as she could. This time it smashed into his cheekbone. The impact jolted up to her shoulder. He yelped.

  Taking a step back, Sofia wriggled free. Big Mike went to grab her as Little Vinny clutched his face. Rather than retreating, she took a step forward, and brought her knee up as hard as she could into Big Mike’s groin.

  She reached out, grabbed Melissa by the wrist, and ran for the door as the people in the bank either stood there dumbfounded or fumbled for their cell phones so they could film what was destined to be a YouTube classic. Judging from the blinking red light on her cell phone, the teenage girl was already filming.

  The bank’s security guard started toward her, but Big Mike knocked him on his ass and grabbed the gun out of his holster as he fell.

  Chelsea screamed.

  Sofia ran back to the counter and climbed on top, dragging Melissa along. Leave it Melissa to bank someplace that didn’t have bulletproof glass anywhere.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Sofia saw Big Mike and Little Vinny stumbling after them. Big Mike was limping, and Little Vinny was clutching a hand to his face.

  “Take off your heels,” Sofia said.

  Big Mike had recovered and was charging toward them like a bear. He clearly didn’t care one bit that he was in a bank.

  Melissa was struggling with the strap of one of her shoes. Sofia knew that they didn’t have a second to spare. She reached down and yanked the shoe from Melissa’s foot.

  “Are you crazy?” Melissa shouted. “We’re never going to outrun them.”

  Sofia wrenched the shoe from Melissa’s foot and grasped it in her hand as the two men bore down on her.

  “Who said anything about outrunning them?” she said, stepping between Melissa and Big Mike, who was heading toward them.

  Sofia’s hand tightened around the toe of Melissa’s Louboutin. She drew her arm back. Big Mike was still coming at her, full tilt. Sofia waited. Like throwing a punch, timing was everything.

  Big Mike was almost on top of her, Sofia pivoted hard, throwing her hips round, and whipping her arm forward in a big, looping haymaker. The spiked end of the Louboutin heel smashed straight into Big Mike’s left eye. The impact sent a shockwave down Sofia’s arm.

  Big Mike screamed in pain. Sofia pulled her arm back, wrenching the shoe from his face. Big Mike’s arms flailed out toward her. She stepped back. Big Mike’s arms windmilled helplessly in the air.

  Behind Big Mike, Sofia saw Little Vinny reach into his jacket, going for his gun.

  Sofia took aim. Pulling her arm back, Sofia pitched the shoe as hard as she could straight at Little Vinny.

  Time slowed. The Louboutin arced heel over toe through the air. Little Vinny’s hand came out of his jacket. The red-soled shoe spun through the air as he raised his gun. A look of shock registered on Little Vinny’s face as the Louboutin spun toward him. His mouth opened. His hand fell to the trigger.

  Sofia was rooted to the spot. All she saw was the barrel of the gun pointing at her. The Loubotin traveled the final yard through the air, its aim true. Sofia heard the familiar click of a paparazzi’s camera as it captured the scene. When had they arrived?

  Sofia heard the gunshot. She saw the muzzle flash. She closed her eyes.

  53

  Before the gunshot had died to an echo, she heard a scream of pain. Her senses completely overloaded,
Sofia couldn’t tell whether it was her screaming or someone else.

  She could still feel her feet on the floor. She was fairly certain she was still upright. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

  She looked down to see Big Mike, one hand clutching his eye, the other rubbing his leg as he yelped in pain. “My leg. Holy Mary Mother of God. You asshole, Vinny. You shot me in the freakin’ leg.”

  Behind Big Mike, Little Vinny wasn’t faring much better. He was lying flat on his back, his arms and legs spread out, still slightly stunned from the shoe. Sofia quickly reached down and pried the gun from his hand.

  Someone else yelled from behind her. “Police! Put the gun down!”

  Still bending down, she swiveled her neck to see two cops, guns drawn, standing in the doorway. Slowly, she put the gun down on the ground, and kicked it away from Little Vinny’s reach. More cops came in behind the ones in the door. It was a river of blue uniforms.

  Sofia followed the officer’s instructions, raising her hands, and lacing her fingers behind her head before she slowly knelt down. Cops swarmed in from all directions, cuffing the two mobsters and Melissa, who yelled at them in protest. “I was just kidnapped, you assholes. I’m the victim.”

  A burly cop hauled Sofia back onto her feet. She held out her hands to be cuffed, and the entire bank erupted into applause. She had to admit it had been one hell of a performance. She resisted the overpowering urge to bow, and kept a straight face.

  When she looked around, she was relieved to finally see a friendly face. Brendan was pushing his way through the police perimeter toward her with Aidan a few steps behind.

  “How did you get here so fast?” Sofia asked Brendan.

  Brendan nodded to Aidan. “He monitors you on twitter. We called the cavalry when we heard.”

  “You’re the number one topic trending on twitter right now,” Aidan added unhelpfully.

  Sofia looked around at the carnage. The two prostrate mobsters who everyone thought were rehab nurses. The blood-soaked Louboutin heel. The crowd of paparazzi who had gathered in the bank to capture every single frame of the drama. Melissa in her bare feet.

  “That’s number one topic in the country,” Aidan grinned. “Not overseas.”

  Sofia looked to the heavens. “Great. That’s just great.”

  “You always say it’s a waste of time,” Aidan said. “But twitter just saved your life.”

  54

  Three days later

  Nirvana Cove, Malibu

  Fred the Seagull squawked loudly, flapping his wings and taking off from the porch of Sofia’s trailer, hotly pursued by Violet and Van. Fred had caught on to the kids right away.

  “Come back,” shouted Van.

  “Yeah, come back, you stupid bird,” Violet shrieked as Fred gained height. “We haven’t finished playing with you yet!”

  Fred circled high above them, caught a thermal, and turned for the hills above the cove. Fred was no fool, and he wasn’t coming back.

  “After breakfast, why don’t we go down to the beach?” she asked her niece and nephew.

  “Yeah!” said Violet, punching the air.

  “You have to finish breakfast first,” said Emily as she hustled through from Sofia’s kitchen with a pitcher of fresh orange juice and put it down on the small round table.

  Emily was followed by their mom, Janet, carrying a plate piled high with bacon. She put the plate down, and the kids immediately descended on it. A couple of seagulls swooped down to take a look, saw Van and Violet, and took off again. They probably figured they might be the next course if they stuck around. They were probably right.

  Ray and Tim were walking up from the beach. Tim was carrying a sand wedge and a couple of hollow plastic practice golf balls. Ray was checking something on his phone.

  “Hey, Sofia, you see this?” Ray said, palming his cell off to her.

  The headline on the news site screamed in all caps “SALGADO COMES OUT SWINGING ON SUNSET” She got as far as reading “Troubled star, Sofia Salgado” before she handed it back to Ray.

  “Thought you should know,” he said sheepishly.

  Her mom snatched the cell phone from Ray and read what was on the screen. “I hope this has at least brought you to your senses. You could have been killed.”

  Sofia folded her arms. She’d been waiting for this conversation since the cops had showed up at the bank, and she’d realized she wasn’t going to die. “Mom, I saved an innocent woman from being killed. Not on screen, in some movie, but for real.”

  “And we’re very proud of you, darling. Aren’t we, Tim?”

  “We sure are. That was a hell of a throw,” Tim said, miming Sofia’s shoe launch.

  That footage had also gone viral and launched a thousand Internet memes and an online discussion that she could play the lead in a remake of the nineties movie, A League Of Their Own. Nobody was talking about the peeing incident anymore.

  “Thank you, Tim,” said Sofia.

  Her mom was staring at her. “You’re still serious about this detective business, aren’t you?”

  To be honest, Sofia hadn’t even considered giving up and going back to acting. It might have sounded cheesy, but she felt like she had achieved more in the months she’d worked for Maloney Investigations than in her years as an actress. It was a real job in the real world.

  Okay, there weren’t trailers and craft services and people kissing your ass all the time. Those luxury items had been replaced by sitting on stake-outs desperate to pee, sack lunches eaten in cars, and people shooting at her or trying to run her off the road. But she knew which job she wanted to do. She didn’t expect people to understand. She didn’t blame them for thinking she was crazy. But it was her life to live the way she wanted.

  Everyone was looking at her now. Her mom, her sister, Ray, Tim, even the two kids.

  “Sofia,” said her mom, “are you still serious about it?”

  “Yeah, I guess I am,” Sofia answered.

  “You go girl!” shouted Violet, thrusting a fist in the air and holding it there. “Black power!”

  Emily put an arm around her daughter. “Honey, what have I said about not shouting that in public?”

  No one else seemed to match Sofia’s niece’s enthusiasm. But no one tried to argue with her, either. That was progress.

  If only the same could be said for Jeffrey who was rushing down the path toward the little blue trailer, waving a piece of paper in the air like a crazed politician.

  “Do I have a deal for you,” he shouted, completely ignoring the fact that she was enjoying brunch with her family. “Six episodes. One million per episode. And back end. Gross points not net. Plus an overall holding deal at Fox.”

  Sofia looked down at her niece. “Violet?”

  “Yeah?” said Violet, the picture of innocence.

  “You know that new move you came up with?”

  “The flying death slam?” asked Violet.

  “You see that man there?” Sofia said, pointing at Jeffery. “He’s a talent agent. You know, kind of like Simon Cowell, but without the charm. But if you show him what you got, then maybe he can get you your own TV show.”

  “You could call your show Violet’s Death Match,” Van chipped in.

  “Awesome!” Violet launched herself off the porch and ran full pelt toward Jeffery.

  Everyone on the porch watched as Violet closed in on Jeffery and karate kicked him in the knee. He went down with a cry of pain. Violet threw herself on top of him and launched a furious flurry of blows. Jeffery rolled into a ball. Emily and Ray took off after Violet and finally dragged their daughter off him.

  “I’m sorry,” said Emily. “Really sorry.”

  Jeffery slowly got to his feet and dusted himself off.

  “It’s a no, then?” he asked Sofia, who had watched the mayhem without leaving the porch.

  Fred the seagull, spotting his opportunity, swooped back in low. Sofia picked up a tiny piece of bacon and tossed it to Fred. He caught it midair an
d swallowed it.

  Sofia looked out to the blue carpet of ocean and smiled. “It’s a no.”

  “B” is for Bad Girls

  Sofia Salgado, is back on the case that turns into her mother's worst nightmare when she ends up undercover in one of Malibu's many rehab clinics.

  If she doesn't solve the mystery in time, she and all the bad girls she meets inside, including rock star Brandi Basher and reality TV train wreck Monaco Jane might just end up going to the big rehab center in the sky.

  Read the first three chapters below.

  Chapter 1

  Sofia Salgado had paint in her hair. After a broken toaster had spewed smoke and soot all over her ceiling, she’d decided to repaint it herself. She’d budgeted a couple of hours for the task, but so far all she’d accomplished was putting newspapers on the countertops and stove, covering the edges with blue tape, and somehow managing to drip yellow paint on her head.

  She looked around at the messy mobile home she’d bought with the money she’d made starring in a TV show called Half Pint Detective. Even in its current state, she loved everything about the place. It had a full kitchen, a cute breakfast nook, a living room, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. It reminded her more of a ship than a regular house—lots of wooden built-ins, smaller than average appliances, and a view of the Pacific Ocean from her living room.

  The mobile home sat off the beach in Malibu, California, in a trailer park called Nirvana Cove. The park was originally built for people with ordinary incomes, or folks who wanted a cheap weekend or summer getaway, but had become crazy expensive in the past thirty years. Now some of the trailers sold for over a million dollars. She’d paid the money because it was only a short walk from the ocean, and nobody bothered her here in her own little slice of Paradise.

  Still, right now, a hotel would be nice. One someone else had already painted. Something clean and tidy. With room service.