“Hang on a second while I tell Jack what no blood, no body means.” I relayed the information quickly just as our morning alarm went off. I shut it off, rolled out of bed, and slipped on my robe while continuing my conversation with Max.
“Dave didn’t say a word to Jack or me about planning to go anywhere. I take it he didn’t tell you he had travel plans, either, and there’s no way the mess at his house could be from packing in a hurry.”
“No, he did not! In fact, he told me all he wanted to do for the foreseeable future was sit and ponder the music of the waves or some nonsense like that. I tried to get him to commit to creating a special composition for our Catmmando Tom Jubilee Commemoration in two years and he turned me down!”
Imagine that, I thought, keeping my sarcasm to myself. “Well, it wouldn’t be much of a retirement if he started on a new project right away. That sounds like an ambitious one, too,” I said, walking down the hall to the kitchen. I was desperate to make a pot of coffee. I’m pretty sure what I heard in response to my statement was a harrumph from Max.
By the time I reached the kitchen, Miles and Ella were already seated on barstools at the large granite kitchen island, ready to assume their supervisory roles. For the moment, they patiently waited for service—morning treats of gourmet canned food, tuna, or turkey.
“Dave has never been one to shun ambition,” Max sputtered.
“Uh huh,” I murmured to Max as I multi-tasked in my quasi-conscious state. I pulled items from the cupboards and began my morning rituals with my mind still operating in low gear.
I went over my most recent encounter with Dave. Jack and I had just seen him the night before at an elaborate gala held in his honor to celebrate his retirement. He’d been the consummate showman, as always. With his mass of white hair, longer and even more unruly than Max’s, he was the quintessential orchestra director decked out in a traditional tuxedo with the long tails.
He’d been presented with a lovely gold conductor’s baton and had wielded it with apparent delight as he posed for pictures with Marvelous Marley World colleagues. There was no hint that anything was wrong as he clowned around with some of our associates dressed as beloved Marvelous Marley World characters. A well-known ladies’ man, he’d also flirted his way through a gaggle of adoring women—young and old alike.
Over the years, the maestro had composed dozens of songs, many of which had become identified with the iconic characters for whom they’d been written. He’d also created lovely arrangements of his work and the work of others, scored live-action feature films, full-length animated films as well as cartoons and film shorts. Those efforts had earned him Oscars, Grammys, and Emmys along with other honors and awards. Many of his tunes were as catchy as the Marvelous Marley World theme song he’d penned early in his career when only a handful of people worked in what eventually became the Marvelous Marley World Music Group.
When the aroma of fresh-ground coffee hit me, I realized that Max had been speaking. There had been more after my “uh huh,” and I’d missed it. The last few words that made their way into my brain had something to do with “a jubilee like no other.” If I had to guess, I’d say that Max had just delivered a long soliloquy about the project he envisioned to commemorate Catmmando Tom’s debut decades ago. That must have included a reference to the great honor it would have been for Dave Rollins to participate. Maybe the maestro made a hasty departure for parts unknown, trying to outrun Max’s inability to take no for an answer.
“I hear you,” I muttered, sort of lying. “I’m sure he understood the opportunity you were offering him. Dave told us last night how much he was looking forward to doing nothing for a while.” Before he could respond, I changed the subject. “How did you find out that Dave was missing? Did the police call you?”
“Pat contacted me. One of Dave’s neighbors knows she’s been his Personal Assistant for years and called her to complain about the loud music rather than filing a complaint with the police. When she couldn’t get Dave to answer his phone, she drove to Malibu and found the police already in Dave’s house after other neighbors had complained. She called me hoping Dave had changed his mind and decided to spend the weekend here at my house to discuss the jubilee project. When I got off the phone with Pat, I went right to the source, and called the officer on the scene rather than rely solely upon her version of events. That’s what I want you and Jack to do.”
“Sure, I’ll give Pat a call.”
“Yes, yes, of course. You should do that right away. I’ve told Pat that she is not to leave Dave’s house under any circumstance. What’s more important is that you two go to Malibu while Pat and the police are still there. That’s the only way to get to the bottom of this impossible situation right away. Don’t let them give you the run around either. I want answers!”
Let the eye-rolling begin, I thought, glad that Max couldn’t see my reaction.
“We can’t just barge in there. Jack’s trying to reach someone with the County Sheriff’s Department, but Malibu’s outside his jurisdiction.”
“I don’t care about jurisdictions. You two need to get over there now!” That order had been delivered loud enough to rattle my nerves.
Here comes Rumpelstiltskin, I thought as I held the phone away from my ear. I could picture Max jumping up and down like that angry little fairytale troll.
Tempted to lay my phone down on the counter, I struggled to pop the top on a can of cat food with one hand. Miles bellowed, either in response to the commotion on the other end of my phone, or in irritation at my lack of agility while doing something as simple as opening a can of cat food. He does not appreciate slow or sloppy service. Just then, Jack stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around me.
“Tell Max we’ll get there as soon as we can.” My mouth fell open when Jack said that. I turned to face my husband who awed me, once again, with his ability to cope with mornings and unwelcome surprises. Clean-shaven and fully-dressed, he was ready to roll.
“Tell Jack I said thanks,” Max demanded in a calmer tone.
“You heard that?” I asked Max.
“Sure, I did. I’m old but there’s nothing wrong with my hearing,” he sniffed indignantly.
“He heard that,” I told Jack. There’s no way out now, I mused silently.
“I’ve got this. Go get dressed. Treats!” He yelled to the delight of both cats. Then he took the can of cat food from me, leaned in and whispered. “They found a body. Not in the house, but on the rocks below. Let’s find out more before you break the news to Max,” he whispered. “My contact from the Lost Hills station tells me Pat Dolan could benefit from the support of a friend.”
“Bye, Max! Talk to you later,” Jack hollered as he ended the phone call.
I dashed down the hall to dress, still woefully caffeine deprived. My head was spinning. Why not? Events around me were moving way too fast. A pit formed in my stomach as Jack’s words sank in. A body on the rocks below the maestro’s magnificent Malibu Cliffs estate could only mean one thing. Dave Rollins was dead.
Read the rest of the story and find all the books in the series here: http://bit.ly/georgie7
About the Author
I’m an award-winning, Amazon, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who enjoys snooping into life's mysteries with fun, fiction, & food—California style!
Life’s an extravaganza! You never know what’s going to happen next. Figuring out how to hang tough and make the most of the wild ride is a great challenge, but also an adventure. On my way to Oahu, to join the rock musician and high school drop-out I had married in Tijuana, I was nabbed as a runaway. Eventually, the police let me go, but the rock band broke up.
Our next stop: Disney World, where we “worked for the Mouse” as chefs, courtesy of Walt Disney World University Chef’s School. More education landed us in academia at The Ohio State University. For decades, I researched, wrote, and taught about many gloriously nerdy topics.
Retired now, I’m still m
arried to the same, sweet, guy and live with him near Palm Springs, California. I write mysteries set in sunny California! The Jessica Huntington Desert Cities Mystery series is set here in the Coachella Valley. The Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery Series takes place in a fictional cove area along California’s Central Coast. The Georgie Shaw Mystery series set in the OC, but she and Jack get around! The Seaview Cottages Cozy Mystery series is set along the so-called American Riviera on the California coast just north of Santa Barbara. My newest series, The Calla Lily Mystery series feature my first adventures set in northern California—in and around wine country.
To keep up with all the new releases, sales, and giveaways why not join me at: http://www.desertcitiesmystery.com and if you’re a fan of FACEBOOK you can find me here: https://www.facebook.com/annacelesteburke/.
Georgie Shaw Cozy Mystery Box Set Page 57
