by Lauren Berg
Elusive Heiress: Bayview Murder Mystery
Lauren Berg
Laura Seymour Cozy Mysteries and Romantic Adventures
Women Sleuths Cozy Mysteries Series
Copyright © 2015 by IVlassov Publishing
All rights reserved worldwide.
No part of this book may be reproduced by any means whatsoever without the author’s written permission, except small portions quoted for review purpose.
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and used fictitiously. All characters, places and events are fictional and drawn from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, businesses, companies or events is entirely coincidental
CHAPTER ONE
Laura Seymour pulled her long, blond hair back into a ponytail before leaning down to retie her shoe. She added a ball cap, and grabbed her phone, which she placed in her jogging arm band. She had the camera cued up, and it was ready for her to hit the record button at any moment. Tucking ear buds into her ears, she glanced down the boardwalk before she began jogging in the direction of the commotion. To most she knew that she appeared to be just another sun kissed California fitness buff, but she could work that to her advantage.
The police were doing what they could to contain the crowd, but still she was able to push to the front. She reached up and tapped her phone. Then she angled her arm toward the scene in front of her.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The man wailing in police custody was covered in ketchup, mustard, and pickle relish. Nearby a man with a hot dog push cart that had been upended was wiping the same condiments off of his uniform shirt.
“We’ve read you your rights,” one of the officers said. “If you continue talking, we will assume you don’t want a lawyer. Now come on.”
“He tried to sell me those hot dogs laced with weed,” the vendor yelled to no one in particular. The man looked angry, but from the way his eyes shifted from side to side Laura knew that he was nervous, too.
“Calm down, sir,” another officer said.
“There’s no weed in them hot dogs,” the man yelled. “I put that pooping medicine in them.”
There was a collective gasp from the crowd at the man’s confession, and it was all Laura could do not to do a victory fist pump in the air. She’d gotten all that on camera. Just as she was about to turn away, someone in the crowd moaned.
“How much did you put in them?” A rather rotund, balding man with a handlebar mustache pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Laura turned to look at him, and noticed that his face was slightly green. “I might have eaten one.”
“I might have eaten one, too.”
Several more people added their suspicion that they too had consumed a tainted hot dog. The rotund man’s stomach gurgled loudly, and Laura edged away. She had a feeling something bad was about to happen, but her journalistic training kept her focusing her camera on the scene.
A loud moan erupted from the other side of the crowd, and Laura heard an explosive squishy fart. Another sounded. It took her a moment to realize that the noise was from people losing their stools. The smell hit her almost instantly, and the crowd around her began to act panicked. The people who had eaten the hot dogs had doubled up onto the ground, their filth dripping down their legs. Laura gagged, and scooted away, trying to keep the scene in focus.
The suspect laughed maniacally, and the police officers looked at one another with a mixture of confusion and disgust. Laura knew that was her chance. She stepped up to the nearest policeman, and said, “Hello, sir. My name is Laura Seymour. I’m a reporter at the LA Chronicle. I was wondering if you would mind answering some questions?”
The officer looked distractedly at her, and said, “Oh, sure.”
“Great, can you tell me your name?”
“Officer Michael Craven.” He still wasn’t looking at her, but she didn’t care. She knew that she was getting the whole interview on camera.
“Thanks. Officer Craven, can you tell me what is going on here today?” She kept her voice upbeat, cheerful even, as she desperately tried to ignore the awful stench that was emanating from the group doubled over on the ground. She’d discovered over the years that people responded better to her when she was chipper. When she was serious, she’d been told she scared people. So she used what she had to her advantage.
“Umm…” Officer Craven rubbed the top of his head as he surveyed the scene before him. In the distance Laura could hear sirens wailing, and she knew that back up was coming in the form of more police and ambulances. She’d seen enough accident scenes to know the drill. As soon as they got there, she’d be shuffled away to talk to a media person. Ugh. She hated that.
“Would you call this a situation of domestic terrorism?” Laura said. She knew she was pushing, but that was the best way to get answers. That and catching the officer off guard, which she had already done.
Officer Craven looked at her with an alarmed expression. “What? No. No. I’m sure this is an isolated incident. The little turd had to be working alone.”
Laura couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “That’s just a load of crap,” she countered. “How could a man like that plan something this … dejected?”
“You’re funny. What did you say your name was again?”
Laura fought the urge to roll her eyes. Sure, he’d said something that had made her laugh, and she had followed up, but that did not mean she was flirting. Why did so many men think that a clever woman wanted to get in their pants? She ignored his question. She asked, “So, you are going on record that this was isolated? That the suspect was working alone?”
Officer Craven’s expression turned serious again. “Definitely. Isolated. No one else is in jeopardy of—“
“Just you wait,” the suspect yelled as another officer pushed him into a police car. “When my partners strike none of you will be ready.”
Laura smirked as Officer Craven’s jaw dropped. “Looks like you just got … stooled.” She giggled, winked at him, poked at her phone to turn it off, and jogged away.
****
“Seymour! Get in here.” Jerry, her editor as part of the features section of the paper, yelled for her from his office.
She wiped her hands on her jeans, and hit save. The story on the Hot Dog Poop Attack as someone on the local news had labeled it was looking pretty good. She was sure that Jerry would give her something better now that she had proven her ability to get a juicy story. The Serial Saboteurs as she had dubbed them had released a statement on a gossip website, and she hoped that Jerry was going to let her investigate. He always scoffed when she insisted that she had sleuthing ability.
Jerry was a bit of a newspaperman cliché, or so she’d always thought. He was gruff, always rolled his shirtsleeves up past his elbows, and rarely left his desk except to bawl someone out. If he wanted a meeting with you, he bypassed his secretary and just yelled for you. He had been passed over for the position of editor-in-chief three times, and it had hardened him. He said he had a lot to prove so it wouldn’t happen again. That meant that he spent an inordinate amount of time proving that the features section of the paper could be relevant, not just filled with fluff pieces.
“What’s up, Jere?”
“Shut the door,” he ordered. She did and when she was sea
ted he continued, “This draft you gave me this morning is pretty damn good. How did you know that something was going down on the boardwalk?”
“I have a police scanner, sir. And I listen to it.” She tried to keep the snarkiness out of her voice, but it crept in anyway. “I was out for a job and it came over, so I went.”
“What I don’t understand is how you got all that on camera? The police confiscated every other phone at the scene. Said something about it being a matter of national security or some nonsense. They just didn’t want to be embarrassed by their own inept police work.”
Laura simply nodded. She wasn’t going to reveal her secret, no matter what Jerry asked her to do. He’d forget the question in a minute, and she really just wanted to get on with her new assignment. She knew just how her boss operated.
“Well, regardless, good work. Now I have a new assignment for you,” he paused, and Laura’s breath hitched. She was so excited that she felt nauseous. Her stomach flipped and flopped. She wished she’d eaten something better than that candy bar for lunch. “I’d like you to head up to Bayview next week. Edith von Farron is going to be there, and there has to be some drama just waiting to happen. I want you to bring me the best story … the one no one else can get.”
“Oh, okay.” Laura felt deflated. She was back to covering fluff. She hated when Jerry did that. Edith von Farron was an heiress who had inherited a chain of hotels from her parents. She had over one billion dollars at last count. Everyone wondered when she was going to kick the bucket, but at eighty-nine years old she was still going strong.
“You’ll do a great job,” Jerry said, and raised his eyebrows by way of dismissal.
Laura sighed as she left his office. She returned to her desk, and flopped down in her chair. Twirling around one time she returned to staring at her piece on the Serial Saboteurs. Even if it did run, she wouldn’t even be around to enjoy the fruits of her labors. She searched for information on Edith von Farron. There were more than five million hits. She wasn’t going to filter through these at the moment. She decided to just go home, and start packing. Before she left, she checked her phone where plans from the marketing department were already waiting there. She’d be staying at the von Farron flagship hotel called the Seaside Inn, a misnomer if ever there was one. The place was more spa-like than anyplace she’d ever been. At least she’d get a pseudo vacation out of the assignment.
Just as she was leaving the building, her phone buzzed. She sighed as she saw her high school best friend’s name flashing on the screen. Amy seemed to have a sixth sense about whenever Laura was heading out on assignment.
“Hey, Al, what’s up?”
“Did you hear about that disgusting thing that happened down at the boardwalk?”
“I did. I was there.”
“You were in the garbage pile? Ew, Laura, I know you’re really into your job and all that, but really?” Amy clucked her tongue.
“Garbage pile? What are you talking about?” Laura pinched the bridge of her nose. As much as she loved Amy, sometimes she found the other woman hard to take.
“I just saw it on the news. Some garbage truck hit a taco stand and spilled its’ contents everywhere. Can you imagine?” Amy squealed in disgust, and Laura held the phone away from her ear.
“Well, I wasn’t there for that,” Laura said. “I did get an exclusive on the Hot Dog Poop Bandit guy.”
“Ew.” Laura could picture her friend examining her perfectly manicured nails. “What are you doing this weekend?” she whined. “I’m bored.”
“I’m heading up to the Seaside Inn for work.”
“Wonderful, I’m going with you!”
“Okay, fine, but no getting in the way of my work.”
“Whatever,” Amy said. “We can go to the spa after you finish your little interviews.”
“Ames, I’ll call you later, okay? We can make plans then.”
They hung up, and Laura headed to the coffee shop on the corner. She desperately needed to get a shot of caffeine in her system before dealing with both her new assignment and her best friend.
“The regular?”
Laura nodded gratefully as the barista behind the counter began to fill her order. She briefly wondered if she should feel bad that she had a regular here. That had to mean that she had a hard core addiction. At least caffeine was a minor one.
She sipped her vanilla latte as she stared out the window at the street beyond. At this time of day, the after work crowd had yet to leave their buildings, but most others had already run their errands, so everything felt calm for the moment. She propped her chin on her hand, and stared out the window. What kind of story was she going to get on Edith von Farron that hadn’t already been written?
Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she knew she needed to think of story angles. She wondered if there were any way that she might be able to get an interview with the elusive heiress. The idea started the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Well, it was either that or the coffee kicking in, but she pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her list of contacts. Finally she came across the number of her ex-boyfriend who worked for a tabloid rag across town.
She punched in his number feeling jitters rolling through her stomach. “Hey, Mike,” she said when he answered. She tried to keep her voice casual, but they had been close enough that he knew her well. Heck, they’d been close enough that they had stayed friends after they broke up.
“Hi, Laura,” Mike said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s up?”
“Why do you think something’s up? Can’t I just call to say hi?” She felt defensive even though he had called her out on exactly what she was doing.
“You could if that was what you were doing, but I know you, kid, and I know the sound in your voice when you need a favor, so out with it. Besides, Amy called earlier, and gave me a heads up.”
Of course she did, she thought with a sigh. Why did her best friend always have to interfere? Laura took a deep breath. “Do you have any idea how I can get an interview with Edith von Farron?”
Mike let out a low whistle. “You don’t aim low, do you?”
“I’m being sent up to Bayview just because von Farron will be in the area. I can’t just sit around all week. I need the exclusive.” Laura felt her voice slip into a whine, and she hated it, but the frustration of not being able to move up at work was straining her better self.
Mike chuckled. “And what if you get the interview, and she doesn’t even tell you anything newsworthy?”
“Who cares?” Laura said. “At least I got the interview. My boss wants me to get what no other reporter can get. So, can you help me or not?”
“Give me ten minutes,” Mike said. “I’ll call you back.”
Laura scrolled through the hits on her Edith von Farron search while she waited for Mike to call. She had no idea what he was doing, but she’d seen him work magic before. Her stomach was beginning to hurt, and she was toying with the idea of getting some food, when the phone buzzed.
“You owe me big,” Mike said.
Laura couldn’t contain her squeal. She could barely breathe as Mike filled her in on the details. This could be the story that finally got her that promotion.
CHAPTER TWO
“I don’t know why you always insist on driving,” Amy complained as Laura pulled her tiny hybrid car up to the valet at the Seaside Inn. “We could have taken my plane and been here in half the time.”
Laura arched an eyebrow at her best friend. “It only took half an hour.”
Amy pulled down the mirror in the passenger side visor, and patted invisible strands of her shocking red hair back into place. “Exactly. We could have been here in fifteen minutes.”
Shaking her head, Laura put the car into park. She wasn’t going to point out that if they had done that, they’d still have had to drive from the airport to the hotel. That would have taken the additional fifteen minutes anyway.
There was no arguing with Amy w
hen she got an idea into her head, though. Laura supposed that was how the other woman had ended up with Cecil Madison, an ancient old codger who had made a fortune playing the stock market over the years. He’d died only months into their marriage, and having no heirs, his entire fortune had gone to Amy. Cecil was the one subject Laura never brought up. There was something far too sensitive there for her friend, and Laura didn’t want to cause her pain.
“So when do we get our mani-pedis?” Amy asked as they waited for the valet. Laura started to open the door, but her friend yelped. “Do not get out until the valet helps you out! Have you no dignity?”
Laura laughed. “I don’t think being able to get out of a car on my own compromises my dignity.”
“But, darling, it does.” Amy looked so serious that Laura forced herself to sober up. “Places like the Seaside Inn have rules. Unwritten, of course, but rules nonetheless. You need to get up to speed if you are going to interview Edith.”
“Edith? Since when are you on a first name basis with one of the ten richest women in the world?”
“Since I broke into the top twenty-five,” Amy gave her a side-eyed grin.
“You mean, I didn’t have to grovel to Mike?” From the way her friend’s smile widened, Laura knew she’d been played. “I should slug you right now.”
“Whatever,” Amy said. “You need a man in your life. And Mike’s a nice guy.”
“You didn’t know I’d call him,” Laura scoffed.
“No, but I know you well enough that I knew you’d call someone, and there was about a fifty-fifty chance that you’d call an ex.” Amy grinned, and turned her smile on the valet who opened the door for her.
Laura climbed out after her, not bothering to wait for the man in the light gray suit. She shoved the keys into his hand. “Our bags are in the trunk.”
“We’ll be staying in the Oceania suite,” Amy called from the front door of the hotel. The valet nodded to the bellhop who hurried to grab our luggage. Laura followed her up the stairs, feeling more than a little underdressed. She put on a simple A-line navy blue skirt, paired with a simple white blouse. At home she had felt feminine, even stylish, but following Amy into the hotel where all the women seemed more elegant, she felt frumpy.
