The unfortunate side eff.., p.20
Red Herrings & Pink Flamingos, page 20
Copyright © 2022 Brittany E. Brinegar All rights reserved
BRITT LIZZ PUBLISHING COMPANY
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Contents
About the Book
1. A Death in the Family
2. Agent to the Stars
3. Heir to the Throne
4. Murder He Wrote
5. Presumptions and Exhumations
6. Home Sweet Home
7. Fiduciary
8. Stealthy Suspicions
9. Don’t Drink the Coffee
10. Role Playing
11. Granny’s Angels
12. Rolling with the Flow
13. Twin Killing
14. What’s in a Name
15. To Catch a Killer
16. Swiss Family Robinson
Word to the Reader
About the Author
Explore the Lake Falls Universe
Moving Day
Books by Britt
About the Book
What looks more impressive on a resume? Nosy amateur sleuth or struggling no-name actress? Neither one pays the bills and Becky Robinson has a lot of bills. So when she’s invited to the reading of her rich Uncle Al’s will, she daydreams about her inheritance.
The problem, Becky doesn’t have an Uncle Al. And she never met the deceased.
The mysterious stranger leaves her a ceramic flamingo with a hidden message. Turns out her fake uncle was murdered and she was hired from the grave to find whodunit.
The investigation into Al’s reclusive life leads Becky undercover with the eclectic Robinson family. Can she blend in and catch the killer or will another fake heir blow her cover?
Get ready to laugh your way through crime with this hilarious cozy mystery series. The heroine is clumsy, the suspects are quirky, and the mysteries are puzzling.
Get all the books in the
Robinson Family Detective Agency series!
1. Red Herrings & Pink Flamingos
2. McGuffins & Birdies
3. A Hoax & a Hex
4. A Patsy & a Pastry
5. A Trick & a Pony
6. A Masterpiece & a Murder
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1
A Death in the Family
It might come as a shocking revelation but the life of an actress in Hollywood wasn’t all glitz and glamour. I spent many of my days dealing with rejection, depression, and murder. No, people weren’t killing each other for a role… most people weren’t… I wasn’t. To make ends meet, I took jobs as a detective. They didn’t pay well but I quite fancied solving crimes.
Over the last few months, I gained a reputation for closing cases, so it didn’t surprise me when opportunities came knocking or murder showed up at my doorstep. What started as a relaxing day off became a defining moment in my life.
I curled underneath my fuzzy blanket and stretched for the remote. A lazy day in front of the TV was the perfect remedy after a crazy family vacation.
I only half-watched the show as I scrolled through my email. Endless advertisements for my favorite fast-food restaurants and streaming services crowded my inbox. For a struggling actress, I sure spent a lot on nonessentials. I navigated to the end and started over. But no matter how many times I refreshed, I didn’t spot the message I wanted.
My best friend and roommate, Lois Vo, snuck up behind me. “Still no contact from Justin?”
“I’m waiting to hear from my agent. Not him.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
Since a mistletoe incident at Christmas, things between me and the Hollywood Hunk turned awkward. Now that he filmed on location in Canada, I didn’t expect anything to resolve. But I never asked for radio silence.
“It’s true. I’m waiting for word on several commercial auditions.”
“Pause the show while I make a sandwich. Do you want anything?”
“No thanks.” I closed my inbox and switched tactics to social media. I scrolled through photos until I spotted a press release from Justin and his on-screen girlfriend in their old west costumes. The comments fawned over Ashton Ashley, increasing my annoyance.
I placed my phone on the couch and slipped it underneath my pillow. “We need a distraction.”
Lorelai, my Jack Russell Terrier curled up on my lap with her doggy bone. She released a tiny bark and plopped on the blanket. With a rapid digging motion, she hid the treat from our new cat.
“I doubt Kitka has any interest in your chewy.”
One of Lorelai’s ears perked like a question mark and she decided to hide it, just in case. The doorbell rang, sending my puppy into a frenzy. Kitka followed her to the entryway, curious about the commotion.
I tucked Lorelai underneath my arm and scrambled after Kitka. “Hey, stop I need to answer to door. Maybe it’s your treats from Amazon.”
Abandoning the career in animal wrangling, I slipped outside. Instead of the deliveryman who knew us by name, I came face to face with a humorless man in a suit. For some reason, I felt the need to apologize. “Sorry for the wait. Pets, what are you going to do?”
“Are you Becky Robinson?”
I shut my eyes to the morning sun. “Yes?”
“Are you unsure about your identity?”
“No?”
He sighed and handed me a manila envelope. “This is for you.”
I spun the document. “What’s this about?” But my question came too late. The suit raced downstairs and fled the apartment complex.
I closed the door and twisted my face. My expression resembled my dog when she didn’t understand a phrase. Tilted head and raised eyebrows. Well, the doggy equivalent.
Lois stepped into the living room with a sandwich in her hand. “Who is he? He ran out of here like someone serving divorce papers.”
I tore into the envelope. “Never been married as far as I know.”
“Are you sure? I didn’t think they let you into Hollywood without a few failed marriages on the resume.” Lois offered half her grilled ham and cheese.
I frowned at the official law firm letterhead. “You might be onto something.”
“Seriously?”
I balanced the grilled cheese in one hand and wiggled the papers out with the other. “I think I’m being served.”
“For what?” Lois’ eyes widened. “Is it related to one of our past cases? A disgruntled killer? Am I named as co-defendant?”
I forced my eyes to focus and read the legal dribble instead of jumping to crazy conclusions. “Oh no. My uncle Albert died.”
Lois choked on her sandwich. “Becky, I’m so sorry. I don’t recall you mentioning Uncle Albert.”
I scanned the document inviting me to the reading of Albert’s last will and testament. “I don’t remember much about him. He’s my mom’s great uncle or something. I never heard he moved to Burbank.”
“Why invite you?”
“I better call my mother.” As a lawyer, she excelled at deciphering legal code.
Lois nodded. “I’ll give you a minute. Tell me if I can help in any way.”
“Thanks.” I dug underneath the pillow for my phone and hovered on my mother’s picture. After the family vacation, I wasn’t ready for another interaction. I put our differences aside and dialed. “Hey, mom. Did you read the letter about Uncle Albert?”
“Hold on a minute Bobby, it’s my daughter.” She bustled somewhere and closed a door. “No, honey. What letter?”
“For the reading of his will this afternoon in Burbank. He invited me.” Silence followed. Did no one break the news to her? “Mom?”
“Hon, start at the beginning. Because your uncle is alive and well in Houston.”
“Not according to his lawyer.” I twisted for the handwritten note attached to the official documents. “Albert Robinson requests my presence at the reading of his will.”
“First off, his name is Uncle Elbert with an E.” My mother exhaled. “Second, he’s from my side of the family so he wouldn’t share my married name.”
“Oh.” I stared at the document. “So, who the heck is this guy and why is he contacting me? Is he a relative of Dad?”
“Alright Bobby, I’m coming.” She sighed. “Hon, my deposition is resuming. Can we talk about this later? Obviously, it’s a mistake of some sort.”
“Sure.” I hung up the phone and locked eyes with my puppy. “She’ll call me back.” A rattling in the kitchen drew my attention. “You can quit pretending you weren’t listening.”
Lois hurried into the living room and dropped in the recliner. “I Googled the man and found an obit.” She spun her iPhone. “Albert Robinson – an investor and a part-owner of a minor league baseball team.”
My eyes darted across the article. “Why is he contacting me?”
Lois stroked the head of her kitten, who purred in response. “Hopefully to leave you a pile of cash and a piece of the River Cats.”
“We both know I’m not that lucky.”
2
Agent to the Stars
Depictions of the L.A. showed perfect weather all the time but as I closed in on my first f ull year, I busted the myth. Springtime meant unpredictable, fluctuating temperatures – winter one day, summer the next. Locals referred to the shifts as cold snaps or warming Santa Ana winds. Or at least the weatherman on channel four did.
As I gazed into my coat closet, I contemplated my wardrobe choice. The morning started chilly but who knew how long it would last.
I snagged my jean jacket and flew out the door before I changed my mind. Since the man in a suit delivered the letter, I struggled to make even a simple decision. My thoughts warred between curiosity and doing the right thing. I couldn’t show up to the reading of Albert’s will and mingle with grieving family members. Not when they invited me by mistake. But not going could be a bigger slight, especially considering I couldn’t find a phone number amongst the legal drivel.
I slid into my car and checked the clock on the dash. My nerves made me way too early for the appointment. After locating the office, I could drive around or window shop to kill time. Or chicken out.
As I idled with my car in reverse, my phone rang and an unknown number flashed on the screen. With any luck, Albert’s people realized their mistake and phoned to uninvite me. “Hello?”
“Is this Rebecca Robinson?” a woman asked.
“Yes, she is. I mean, I’m me. That’s me.”
“Excellent. I thought I mixed up my dates when you didn’t show. Are you on your way?”
“I’m leaving now but I’m glad you called because I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“Interesting, how so?”
“I never met Albert Robinson and I’m not his niece so I can’t imagine why he left me anything in his will. Since moving here, people constantly get my name wrong. Everything from Robins to Roberson so I’m wondering if that’s what happened. Or maybe you let your fingers do the walking and found me in the Yellow Pages. Which would be quite odd since I’m not in the phone book. I’m babbling sorry.”
“This is a play?” The woman cleared her throat. “Are you running lines?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m already impressed by your acting chops, no need to convince me.”
I extended the phone to check the number. If someone pranked me, it wasn’t amusing. “I’m confused.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Ms. Foster, how did you find me?”
“Who is Ms. Foster?”
When would I wake up from this strange dream? “You aren’t the lawyer for Albert’s estate?”
“I’m Myra Blackstone, your agent.”
“What?”
“Well not officially, of course, until we sign the papers. A friend of yours gave me your name a while back. I wasn’t accepting new clients at the time but I am now.”
“What friend?”
“Justin Woods. He’s represented by an old friend of mine.” She sighed. “But it sounds like now is a bad time. Should we reschedule?”
I never even knew we had an appointment. But when opportunity knocked, only a fool slammed the door. Landing an agent was next to impossible… I should rephrase. Landing an agent more interested in getting you roles than conning you out of money was next to impossible.
The scam artists milked you for thousands before your first audition – acting classes, headshots, dance lessons, and makeovers. And they conveniently forget to mention that they receive a cut of referrals.
But Myra Blackstone was different. Or at least I hoped so. If Justin gave her my name, that meant she came with added credibility.
Excitement bubbled in my stomach and my mind drifted from nailing an audition to my Emmy speech. I shook the daydream and returned to reality. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t skip out on the will reading without explanation. “Will we be done by three?”
“Sure thing. I’ll see you soon.”
“Um, Miss Blackstone? Where is your office?”
My sneakers plodded against the boardwalk as I squinted through the high afternoon sunshine. An office at Venice Beach spoke highly of Myra Blackstone’s success. The rent alone put her in elite territory.
An old-school boombox thumped as street performers bogeyed to the beat. A woman selling handmade jewelry grabbed my arm. “These sapphire earrings would look lovely on you. Match your eyes.”
“My eyes are hazel.” Her sales pitch needed work or at the least customization.
A rollerblader weaved through the crowd, drawing death glares from the muscle head he nearly ran into.
No matter how many times I walked the boardwalk, the sights amazed me. The strange mix of locals, tourists, exercise freaks, and trinkets made for an odd atmosphere. The crowds and the noise gave me a headache and yet the energy put a pep in my step.
I stared at the text message and tilted my head. Surely, I had the wrong place. My agent’s office couldn’t be a temporary building on wheels. A retrofitted food truck?
I knocked on the door and a tall, thin blonde woman answered the door. “Come in and take a seat.” She motioned to a purple couch squeezed in the corner.
“Interesting area for an office. I’d never get anything done with all the distractions outside.”
“Oh, that.” She waved. “I’m only here a few times a week. The benefit of staying mobile.”
My Spidey sense tingled. If she combed the boardwalk for clients, she might not be as reputable as I thought. Then again, some of the best actors were discovered while walking their dogs.
“I’m sorry for my tardiness but I didn’t know about our meeting.”
“Entirely my fault. My secretary mixed up numbers and names. No harm though because you are here now.” She unbuttoned her gray suit jacket as she sat in her rolling chair. The black turtleneck elongated her frame and I imagined her as the voice of a cute cartoon giraffe.
I crossed my legs, carefully so as not to kick the desk wedged in front of me. “I’m anxious to hear your plans.”
“Did you bring your headshot?”
“I must admit, my work is rather sparse.” I slid the picture across her desktop and she flipped to the resume information on the back.
“Quite impressive though without representation.” She snagged red glasses with gigantic square frames. “Are you open to working in theater as well as television and movies?”
“I figured I would start with commercials.”
“Perhaps but I like to aim higher.”
“Theater is an option.” I participated in several plays at Texas A&M but usually as an unnamed character or an understudy.
“You don’t list anything here about singing or dancing.”
“My two left feet hinder my ability to carry a tune in a bucket.” I hesitated as the analogy fell flat. “I can’t do either.”
“Ah, well that limits us some.” She chewed her fingernail. “What type of roles are you interested in?”
The type that came with a paycheck. “I’m pretty open, I guess. I like comedies and mysteries. Long-term planning though… I’m a huge TV fan so I would love to star in my own show someday.”
“Always dream big.” She winked.
“Do you recommend anything specific?”
She flipped over my headshot. “You photograph well. You’re cute.”
“Thank you.”
“But not gorgeous. Like a girl next door, so you’re better suited to roles as a best friend or sidekick rather than a romantic lead.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Your hair is different colors.” She motioned between me and the photo. “Which one do you plan to stick to? Because the roles you can land are different depending on if you’re light or dark brown.”
“I don’t dye my hair it’s this weird kind of chameleon thing where it changes colors depending on the season. It is lighter in the summer sun and darker in the winter.”
“That happens to many actresses out here. The ocean magically bleaches their hair but leaves the roots untouched.”
I considered arguing my point further but I didn’t want to split hairs. I crossed my arms and waited for the next backhanded compliment.
“The good news is I’m sure I can find steady work for you, Becky.”
“Awesome.”
“Casting directors aren’t near as picky about things as they used to be. You’re lucky you started in an era where a crooked chin dimple is charming instead of a shadow nightmare for the lighting department. Cleft chin is fine but the disappearing and reappearing when you smile kind like yours is a tougher sell.”
