Murder in Seabrook Shores

by Jane T O'Brien

  Only four areas would be staged for the film. They included the library, the professor's suite, the large foyer, and the suite used by Samantha.

  Samantha looked over the sketches. “I don't think it's necessary to recreate the suite of rooms I was in, there is so little in the book about the room except the kidnapping of Mari.”

  “The suite is pivotal to the story, Samantha. Our heroine enjoyed many pleasurable hours in her boudoir,” laughed Myra.

  Samantha glared at Grant in disgust, “What kind of person are you painting me to be, Grant? There is nothing in my book suggesting promiscuity took place in that room.”

  “That's not true, Samantha,” said Myra, “It was obvious your bed had a special meaning; you took it with you when you left the mansion.”

  “That's ridiculous, I loved the bed because it was luxurious, I didn't take it with me, it was a gift. It is now in the guest room of the house I share with my husband. Do you honestly think I would keep it in my home if I'd shared it with other men as you are inferring?”

  “Look, Samantha,” Myra said shaking her head, “We are making a modern-day movie here, not some old Doris and Rock flick from the fifties. The audience wants to watch sex, and that's what they will see. We're in this to make money and we'll do what it takes to make plenty.

  “I can't let you ruin the reputation of an extraordinary man. I want to talk to Mr. C whoever he is. How can I get in touch with him?”

  “Samantha, I don't know the man, I only know he is paying for my services. If you don't want to tell me what your bedroom looked like, so be it. I'll do what I must do to make it look authentic. Now, help me with the other sketches.”

  “No, Myra, I won't be a party to this disgusting travesty. Grant, please take us back to the hotel. Megan and I will check out and return to Lancashire.”

  “Samantha, calm down,” said Myra, “it's not what you think. I've read Grant's script; it's a sensitive and meaningful play. Yes, he spiced it up, but that is what the audience wants. Please, give it time, don't give up yet.”

  Myra's words calmed Samantha somewhat. She was furious with herself for selling out. In her quest to honor the beloved professor she had a part in mockery of his life.

  “Samantha,” said Grant, “I know this is difficult for you. You are not the only author who was disturbed by adjustments in a piece written from your heart. I wish you would reconsider; I believe you will have a positive influence with Barry Kline, the director Mr. C has assigned to the project.”

  “Grant, I must speak with Mr. C. I want to make him understand the man Professor Stonehill was. Someone must know how to get in touch with him.”

  “You'll be meeting Melvin Kessler this evening, he's the producer. He's a difficult man but he's the only person who has the power to make changes. Mr. C is an enigma from what I've heard and has nothing to do with the production.”

  Samantha apologized for overreacting and studied Myra's sketches selecting those most resembling the original Stonehill Manor. She offered some suggestions as she remembered details of the décor.

  Chapter Three

  While returning to the city, Grant suggested Samantha and Megan rest in their suite for an hour before the cocktail party being held in one of the meeting rooms in the hotel.

  “Remember, it's a three-hour time difference here in California. I should have waited until tomorrow before driving you to Seabrook.”

  Samantha was still uneasy about the portrayal of the professor. She would call Fletch when they returned to the hotel to ask his opinion about the situation. She wondered if she could put a stop to the production. She sold the rights to her book. How could I have been so naïve; did I think they would strictly adhere to my words? I'm sorry, professor, she thought to herself.

  Megan never met Professor Stonehill, although she knew how highly regarded, he had been throughout his life.

  What began as an exciting adventure to share with her friend and employer, had taken a disturbing turn? Megan hoped Samantha could persuade the decision makers to tone down the sexual inferences in the movie. She knew Samantha was not guilty of improprieties while living at Stonehill Manor.

  “Fletch, I'm afraid I've made a terrible mistake,” Samantha said when she called Fletch after returning to the hotel. “I haven't read the script, but it is no longer the true story of the dedicated and honorable man I knew. My first thought was to return to Lancashire but I'm hoping to convince the decision makers to change their minds about this version.”

  “You said the screenwriter was the one who drove you and Megan to the Seabrook mansion, what does he say about the revisions.”

  “Grant is young and trying to make a success of his writing. He doesn't think he has a choice and is giving them what they want. I can't blame him; it seems sex sells out here. I know you had reservations about selling my rights to the book and I wish I'd gone with your instincts.”

  “Do you want me to come out there? I hate that you are alone to face these people. I'll take a leave from the force if I must.”

  “No, you and Mike are planning to join us later in the month. Maybe everything will work out by then and we can have the vacation we planned. Tonight is a cocktail party where we will meet the director and producer. Grant tells us the actors will be there too. I'm eager to meet the actress who will portray me, Grant heard she's a fox,” Samantha giggled.

  “Of course, she's a fox, she's playing the part of you, no matter who she is, she won't measure up to my best girl.”

  “You're good for my ego, I miss you but it's time to get dressed for this shindig tonight. I'd call you later, but you'll be asleep, I'm sure.”

  “I won't sleep well without you next to me, call me no matter what time it is. I want to hear about your evening.”

  Samantha looked stunning in a simple but elegant deep blue cocktail length dress. She wore the diamond pendant Fletch gave her for their six-month anniversary. Megan was dressed in soft green A-line that brought out the color of her eyes and accentuated her blonde hair. They stood before the floor-length mirror hoping they would fit in with the sophisticated crowd at the party.

  The room was close to empty when they entered at ten minutes after seven. Grant saw them walk in and greeted them with a smile.

  “Where is everyone?” Samantha asked. “I thought there would be more people here.”

  “They'll be arriving soon; movie people like to make grand entrances. I came early to fortify myself to deal with the egomaniacs.” He held up a half-full glass of bourbon. “May I get you, ladies, a drink?”

  “I'll have a glass of white wine, I'd better drink lightly tonight, I don't need a loose tongue when I talk to the bigwigs,” said Samantha.

  Megan asked for the same. Grant returned with the wine when Melvin Kessler entered the room. He was accompanied by a giant of a man, Samantha guessed was his bodyguard.

  Grant took another generous swig of his drink before he guided Samantha and Megan to the newcomer.

  “Mr. Kessler, may I introduce Samantha Degan and her assistant, Megan Fairchild. Samantha is the author of Stonehill Manor.”

  “I know who she is Wagner. Get me whatever you're having while I talk with the lovely Ms. Degan.”

  Grant dutifully walked to the bar as ordered. I hate that guy, he mumbled under his breath.

  “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Kessler, I'm glad I have a chance to speak with you about the changes in Professor Stonehill's story.” If you have read my book, you know Fenwick Stonehill was an honorable man. I cannot allow the filming of the movie to begin unless the professor's character is true to the man he was throughout his life.”

  “How many have you had, little lady?” Melvin Kessler sneered while pointing to Samantha's glass of wine. “Need I remind you; you don't own the story of your sainted professor. It was a good mystery but too sappy for the movie screen. I'm in the business of making money and so is my boss, Mr. C. You stand to collect a small fortune too but only if we throw sex and violence into
the mix.”

  Grant returned with the man's drink, “Wagner,” Mr. Kessler said, “tell your friend to get it together or she will be on the next bus back east.”

  “I'm sorry, Samantha,” whispered Grant, “I should have warned you about Kessler.”

  “You mentioned he was difficult and I should have expected his reaction. I'm not giving up; I find it surprising moviegoers are only interested in sex in movies. I hope Mr. C is here tonight, maybe he is more reasonable.”

  Megan knew from the look on Grant's face Samantha was fighting a losing battle. She would talk to her when they were in their suite after the party ended. Because the character in the movie is named Hill and not Stonehill, it wouldn't reflect badly on the professor.

  More people arrived while waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and tempting appetizers. The bar was knee-deep in those looking for something stronger than sparkling wine.

  An attractive man in his late forties approached Samantha.

  “Samantha Degan, I recognize you from your photograph, I'm Barry Kline. I'll be directing Grant's version of your book,” he nodded in Grant's direction.

  “I'm happy to meet you, Mr. Kline, this is my assistant, Megan Fairchild.”

  “Please call me Barry, I hope you are both enjoying your stay in Los Angeles.”

  “Barry,” said Samantha, “I will be honest, I am not enjoying any part of this visit because the true story of Fenwick Stonehill is not being told. I understand your studio wants to make money, yet I question why it is necessary to destroy a man's reputation.”

  “Samantha, I agree with you,” Barry replied. “Grant did his best to please Melvin and keep some integrity of your story. It might have been worse in the hands of some screenwriters I know. After I read your book, I was eager to direct the movie but now I regret signing a contract.”

  A hush came over the room and heads turned toward the door. A beautiful woman entered on the arm of a gentleman who is several years her senior.

  “Do you suppose that's Rochelle Rousseau?” Megan whispered.

  “I don't know, who is that Barry, she's beautiful.”

  “Megan's correct, that is Rochelle with Mr. C. He insists she plays you, Samantha. She's never acted a day in her life. I'm afraid the movie will be a flop before Grant's script is completed. Come, I'll introduce you.”

  “I can't believe that gorgeous woman will play me. I look nothing like her.” Samantha saw the look on Grant's face as he stared at the glamorous Ms. Rousseau and knew he was a goner.

  Barry made the introductions.

  “So, this is the little author of the sweet professor's story, Samantha, isn't it?

  “Yes, Ms. Rousseau, I'm Samantha Degan Fletcher.” Samantha had been called many things in her lifetime, although no one ever called her little.

  “Where's your detective, don't tell me you left him alone in your little hometown?”

  What's with the word little, these people use it so often? Samantha thought but said: “Fletch will join us in another week if we are still in California.”

  “I'll be happy to see him,” she said and walked toward Grant, putting her arm in his. You must be my screenwriter, Bryant isn't it, cutie?

  “It's Grant, Ms. Rousseau,” his face turned bright red as she led him to the bar.

  “That woman is giving off evil vibes,” said Megan, “I don't think she likes you very much, Samantha.”

  “I can't imagine what I did to offend her.”

  “She's probably jealous.”

  “What would she have to be jealous about?” asked Samantha, “she's beautiful.”

  “You have a natural beauty, hers is bought and paid for by a feeble old man. Her cleavage comes to her navel, maybe she's getting a kickback from her plastic surgeon for advertising his work.”

  The party continued, Rochelle continued to play the room, occasionally scowling in Samantha's direction.

  Samantha did her best to ignore the woman and watched for an opportunity to speak with Mr. C. His bodyguard remained at his side watching and waiting as though someone was intent on harming the old gentleman. Walking toward him with the bodyguard's eyes on her, Samantha introduced herself as the author of Professor Stonehill's memoirs.

  “Let her pass, Hugo, Mr. C instructed. This young lady means me no harm.”

  “Thank you, Mr. C, I hoped to speak to you about the screenplay of my book. I have been told to make money; my original work has been transformed into a movie filled with sex. I can assure you; Professor Fenwick Stonehill was never involved in a scandal of any kind. He was a gentleman much like yourself and deserves to be treated with respect and dignity.”

  Mr. C laughed, “My dear, please don't let this body fool you, in my day I was what we called a randy. I'm certain your professor was a fine upstanding gentleman. My lovely wife is too beautiful and sexy to waste her talents on a mundane, boring picture. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  Samantha knew when she was being dismissed and knew it was useless to talk to this old man. She felt sickened that two of the people who had total control over her story were steadfast in their quest to make the professor out to be a lecher and her no better than a common tramp.

  She saw Rochelle had unhinged herself from Grant. He stood by the window with his eyes glued on the actress.

  “Grant, tell me more about the script. I know you changed the professor's name; did you change mine?”

  “I did, I called you Savannah, but Rochelle wanted to keep your name, Samantha. Isn't she a beautiful woman?”

  “Grant, what other changes are there? Is Detective Fletcher mentioned?”

  “Yes, but only as the arresting officer, Rochelle thought it would be more realistic if he was married.”

  “I thought you had never met Rochelle until tonight.”

  “I didn't, her assistant told me what changes to make, and I did what I was told.”

  “Thanks, Grant, remember the girl you left in Iowa? Be careful not to mess that up.”

  Grant looked at her quizzically and then turned to watch Rochelle with a lovesick look on his face.

  “Megan, something is not right here. Am I being paranoid or is Rochelle out to make me look bad?”

  “I don't think you're paranoid, Sam. The daggers are coming out of that woman's eyes when she looks your way. I'm sure you will investigate what's going on with her and why she is intent on trashing you and Professor Stonehill.”

  Chapter Four

  Reggie Crenshaw was no fool. He was aware Rachel's sudden interest in becoming an actress was her lingering lust for her cop ex-boyfriend, Joseph Fletcher. He went along with her when she insisted on being called Rochelle Rousseau instead of Rachel Ross Crenshaw. He also agreed to the idiotic name of Mr. C. Reggie wasn't a stupid man, although he was a man in love and couldn't say no to Rachel.

  Reggie had many love interests in his seventy-nine years on earth, however, none affected him as Rachel Ross did. He knew from the beginning she had feelings for someone else. It didn't matter to Reggie; he was in love and determined to make Rachel his.

  Five years ago, he proposed, although he suspected she expected his demise soon and would take up with the cop again. Reggie overlooked her frequent dalliances, he wasn't the young, virile man he once was. Detective Fletcher was a different matter. Rachel had feelings for him beyond her usual flirtation.

  Reggie was surprised when Rachel's maid reported finding the Memoirs of Professor Fenwick Stonehill on her nightstand. To his knowledge, Rachel had never cracked a book in her life. Her reading material comprised of gossip and celebrity magazines. Reggie ordered his own copy of the biography and recognized the character known as Fletch.

  Shortly after, Rachel told him she wanted to be a movie star and insisted he buy the rights to the professor's memoirs. Although Reggie had never been a part of the movie business, he knew many studio heads and found one willing to take a chance because Reggie was footing the bill.

  He knew the story would
need rewriting to make Rachel the focus of the movie. He didn't expect the studio would assign their top screenwriters to the project, but they found one fellow hungry enough to do what he was told.

  Grant was forced to rewrite his screenplay several times before Rachel gave her approval. Reggie almost felt sorry for the poor sap; he had sold his soul for nothing. The movie would never be made because Rachel had no talent. Reggie would let her discover that truth for herself.

  He'd hired the best in the business to make her dream come true, he couldn't help it if she fell flat on her beautiful face.

  After meeting Samantha Degan, he doubted Detective Fletcher had lingering feelings for Rachel. Samantha was truly a beautiful woman. She had a style and grace that only comes from someone who has confidence in themselves and a genuine caring for other people. Detective Fletcher is a lucky man. Reggie wanted to assure Mrs. Fletcher she needn't worry about the professor's name being tainted and no one would read about her in an unflattering light. However, he remained silent because he couldn't risk Rachel finding out her precious movie career was over before it started.

  Melvin Kessler knew his days of prosperity were numbered. He was heavily in debt thanks to alimony and child support because of three divorces. He had no interest in his four children and resented having to foot the bill for their care. He'd been a fool to think he was in love, not once but three times. His latest love interest was Rochelle Rousseau, she was not only beautiful, she knew how to make a man feel like a man. If only old Crenshaw would kick, Rochelle alone would collect his money. Melvin and Rochelle would be married, and he wouldn't worry about finances again.

  He wondered why she picked the subject of some old professor in a small town to make her first appearance on the silver screen. It was a good mystery and an interesting story, but the old man was too squeaky clean. That young guy did a good job of spicing up the screenplay, he was looking forward to watching Rochelle in those bedroom scenes. He wasn't worried about Brad Taylor, the actor who would play the professor, he didn't normally go for Rochelle's type. Melvin watched Brad from across the room, he stared at Samantha Degan all evening. Maybe a little distraction with the author would keep Brad from continuing the love scenes with Rochelle after the cameras were turned off.