Malibu Mayhem Trilogy 02: Mystery At Malachite Mansion, Page 2

  “How would Roland get his dead hands on a coffin?” George snorted.

  I was about to grab my phone to call the police when I noticed other letters scrawled across the lid. Underneath REST IN PEACE were the words MALACHITE BEACH.

  “‘Rest in peace, Malachite Beach’? What does that mean?” I asked, just as a strong wave crashed onto the beach. It knocked the coffin on its side, popping the lid open.

  Bess shrieked and turned to run. So did I until George grabbed my arm.

  “Wait! Wait, you guys!” George cried. “It’s empty!”

  Bess and I froze in our tracks. Turning back toward the coffin, I saw George was right. Nobody was inside. In fact, nothing was inside.

  “Snap!” a voice said, and laughed. “We punked them good!”

  About ten yards away on the water was a motorboat. Four people dressed in bright blue wet suits rocked the boat as they high-fived one another. They looked like they were in their late teens or maybe early twenties.

  “Did they say we were punked?” George asked.

  I nodded. “They must know something about that stupid coffin.”

  The boat drifted toward shore before we could ask. Two of the passengers, a guy and a girl, jumped out. Their flippers splashed through shallow water before they stepped onto the beach.

  “Hey!” the girl greeted us. She glanced at the empty coffin and smiled. “Thanks for coming to the funeral.”

  The guy laughed. “Oh, man. You should have seen your faces when that lid popped open. Too funny!”

  Not! I thought. Who were these people in blue? And what was the deal with the message on the lid? First, an introduction was in order.

  “I’m Nancy,” I said, forcing a smile. “These are my friends Bess and George.”

  “George?” The girl looked straight at George. “Your real name must be Georgina, right?”

  “Georgina?” George said disdainfully.

  “Or Georgette,” the guy weighed in. “Yeah, I’ll bet it’s Georgette.”

  George’s face burned bright red before she snapped, “It’s Georgia, all right? Georgia like the state!”

  “Okay, okay,” the guy said, holding up both hands. “Don’t bite my head off!”

  I was surprised. George never admitted to her real name—she must really hate the names Georgina and Georgette.

  “Now that you know who we are, who are you?” I asked.

  “Cassie,” the girl answered.

  “Nathan,” the guy said. He nodded to the boat. “And those goofs over there need no introduction.”

  “Heard that, loser!” one of them shouted back.

  George turned to Cassie and Nathan. She pointed at the beached coffin and said, “Speaking of goofs, that was a lame joke you played on us.”

  “It wasn’t meant to be a joke,” Cassie said.

  “Your reaction was what made it funny,” Nathan declared.

  “Well, it wasn’t funny for us,” Bess admitted.

  “Whatever,” Cassie said. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the mansions along the beach. “Will you check out the McMansions around here? Total waste of good beach.”

  “Not to mention a waste of power to light and heat those monstrosities,” Nathan said angrily.

  “That one over there,” Cassie said, pointing to Stacey’s house. “Is it yours?”

  “It belongs to a friend,” I said. “We’re staying with her a few extra days to help clean up the beach.”

  “A few days? Hey, don’t knock yourselves out,” Cassie said sarcastically.

  “Our mission to save the beach is a lifelong commitment,” Nathan said.

  “Mission?” I repeated.

  “Sure,” Cassie said. “Haven’t you heard of the Blue Greenies?”

  “Blue Greenies?” Bess giggled. “Sounds like a Pee Wee softball team.”

  Cassie glared at Bess as if to say, Don’t even go there.

  “The Blue Greenies are a California-based environmental group,” Nathan stated. “Dedicated to protecting the ocean and its beaches.”

  “If you’re all about saving the beach,” I said with a smile, “then you’re in the right place.”

  George wasn’t smiling; her eyes burned at Cassie and Nathan. “I’ve heard of your troublemaking group,” she said. “You use scare tactics to get your messages across. Like that coffin you sent us.”

  “So it freaked you out a little,” Cassie said. “No big deal.”

  “So what about all those McMansions you set on fire?” George asked. “I heard all about that, too.”

  Fires? I stared at the Blue Greenies. That was a lot more serious than a prank.

  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” Nathan sneered.

  “Right now our goal is to spread awareness of the damage done to the beach,” Cassie said.

  “While protecting our beaches and waters from oppressive members of the human race,” Nathan added.

  “Only one human was responsible for the disaster on this beach,” I said. “One crazy human named Roland.”

  “If you want to help clean the beach,” George told Cassie and Nathan, “why don’t you start by picking up that coffin?”

  We watched while they hoisted the coffin and carried it through the shallow water to the boat. Their friends pulled it onto the boat, and then Cassie and Nathan climbed in.

  “See you!” Cassie called as the boat zoomed off.

  “I’m not sure I want to see them again,” Bess said over the roar of the motor.

  “If they were so committed to cleaning up the beach, they would have offered to help us pick up oil clumps,” George said. “Or scrub down some stained dune grass.”

  “They’re too busy thinking up ridiculous pranks,” I said. “Who needs them anyway? Let’s grab those gloves Stacey keeps in her shed and start ourselves.”

  The three of us sidestepped the washed-up debris until we reached the shed near Stacey’s house. Once inside I spotted Stacey’s black wet suit, hanging from a hook. I was about to walk past it when I noticed water on the floor right below it.

  “That’s strange—it looks like there’s a puddle under the suit,” I said. Then I touched it. It was wet all right.

  “Maybe Stacey went for a dive after she got back to Malachite this morning,” George suggested.

  “She just got back a couple of hours ago,” I said. “She wouldn’t have had enough time to go swimming.”

  “Who in their right mind would go swimming in that ocean now?” Bess asked. “Thanks to Roland, it’s totally gross.”

  “Girls,” Stacey’s voice called from outside. “George, Bess, Nancy!”

  I let go of the suit and answered, “Coming!”

  “Wait,” George whispered to us. “Not a word about the diving suit, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, but really didn’t understand why.

  As we left the shed we saw Stacey on her deck, pacing back and forth.

  “There you are!” she said, waving to us with her smartphone. “Where have you been?”

  “We were looking for work gloves so we could clean up the beach,” I said.

  Stacey leaned over the railing. “Well, forget about that, at least for now,” she said. “The meeting of the Malachite minds begins in about an hour.”

  “At your house?” I asked.

  “Here?” Stacey said with a snort. “Actually, I got a call that Don Salazar had offered his beach house for the meeting. Have you heard of him?”

  Bess squealed, making me jump. “Are you kidding me? Don Salazar is just about the hottest director in Hollywood and the world!”

  “The king of romantic comedies,” I added.

  Stacey nodded and said, “I planned the premiere party for his latest movie, Dionysus and Me. I had Don and his wife enter in a horse-drawn chariot. The press ate it up.”

  “When are we leaving?” Bess asked excitedly.

  Stacey answered by entering the time on her phone and saying out loud, “Meet on deck at one thirty p.m. At one
thirty-five, walk down beach to Don’s mansion.”

  With Stacey preoccupied with her phone, I asked George, “Okay, so why didn’t you want us to mention the diving suit?”

  “Because we’re still Stacey’s guests,” George said. “The last thing I want her to think is that we were snooping around.”

  “We’re detectives,” Bess teased. “Snooping is what we do best.”

  We climbed the steps to the deck and entered the house. I couldn’t wait to go to the meeting and possibly meet some of my favorite celebs, but I couldn’t stop wondering about the damp diving suit—and the puddle on the floor.

  Someone used Stacey’s diving suit and not long ago, I thought as I followed my friends into the house. If it wasn’t Stacey, then who?

  CELEBRITY SQUABBLE

  “Welcome, everybody, welcome!” Mallory declared. “I am, like, so totally psyched that you could all make it.”

  “Who would miss this?” Bess whispered to me, secretly snapping pictures of everyone with her phone.

  “Take a few minutes to say hi to each other,” Mandy piped up. “Then we’ll start the meeting.”

  I was pretty excited myself. I looked up and down the long polished mahogany table. It seemed everybody in Don Salazar’s palatial dining room was somebody noteworthy—a famous actress, fashion designer, baseball player, comedian—and of course super-famous director Don Salazar himself. The Casabian sisters’ camera crew and producer were no-shows, which was fine with me.

  While everyone traded greetings around the table, I noticed a girl of about twelve sitting across from Bess, George, and me. She opened a notebook and uncapped a pen. Was she an actress? A singer?

  The girl must have felt me staring at her. She looked up, smiled, and said, “Hi.”

  “Oh, hi,” I said. “I’m Nancy. These are my friends Bess and George. We’re Stacey Manning’s guests for a few weeks.”

  “Alice Bothwell,” the girl said, not shyly. “I live here in Malachite with my family.”

  “Let me guess,” George said. “You’re a celebrity too?”

  “Not yet,” Alice said with a laugh. “Someday I’d like to be the mayor of Malachite Beach, but first we have to clean up the place, right?”

  “Right!” I said with a grin. Not only did Alice have a big dream, but she would also be a big help.

  Alice suddenly leaned over the table and whispered, “Truth: Cleaning up the beach is the main reason I’m here … but not the only reason.”

  “What’s the other reason?” Bess whispered back.

  Alice’s eyes darted to the left. “He’s sitting three chairs down,” she said. “But don’t make it look obvious!”

  We followed Alice’s gaze to see a cute teenage guy with sandy brown hair reaching out to grab some cheese on a cracker. I knew who he was immediately.

  “Hey, that’s Austin Gruber, the singer,” I whispered. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Austin lives on Malachite Beach with his mom and sister,” Alice said, her voice still low. “When I found out he was volunteering to help the beach, I thought it was so cool.”

  “My sister Maggie’s also an extreme fan,” Bess said. “She even named her gerbil Austin.”

  Austin leaned back in his chair, but his eyes were no longer on the grapes or the cheese platter.

  “Hey, Bess,” George teased. “Don’t look now, but Austin Gruber is checking you out.”

  “Stop,” Bess said. But she glanced over at him anyway. As their eyes met, they both blushed.

  Bess Marvin had practically written the book on flirtation, so it was funny to see her act shy, but no guy had ever been Austin Gruber!

  “Meeting’s starting,” Alice said excitedly as Mandy tapped a glass for attention. As organizers of the meeting, the Casabians sat at the head of the table. “Next we’d like to thank Don for the use of his house,” Mandy said with a nod to the director. “Thank you, Don!”

  “No problem!” Don boomed. He gestured to the overflowing cheese and fruit platters on the table. “Please, help yourselves. The Scandinavian moose cheese is excellent.”

  “Did he say moose cheese?” I whispered.

  “I’ll stick to the cheddar,” Bess whispered back.

  The meeting was turned over to a silver-haired actress named Joanne Stonestreet.

  “Okay, everybody,” Joanne said. “We’re all here for the same reason. Our beloved beaches have been damaged by an unfortunate environmental disaster.”

  “Tell me about it,” said another Malachite resident. “Dead fish covered my beach.”

  “The smell is unbearable,” a nighttime talk show host added. “It’s making my son’s asthma worse.”

  “Not to mention what this will do to the value of our houses,” Don said. “Leonard Stamp will never build those mansions he was planning on Malachite Beach.”

  “Well, then,” Stacey said with a half smile. “Mr. Stamp will just have to build elsewhere.”

  The name Leonard Stamp definitely rang a bell. He was a real-estate mogul, a celebrity in his own right. I wasn’t surprised he had plans to build on Malachite, one of the trendiest and wealthiest areas in the United States.

  “What we need to do is move forward to rescue our beach and the wildlife,” said Mia.

  “Yes, but it’ll take tons of money to clean up the beach, people,” Stacey said. “We’ll need booms, skimmers—”

  “We’re rich,” Mallory said, tossing her hair. “Like … aren’t we?”

  “Not that rich,” Stacey said. “Since this is a man-made disaster, we’re not eligible for government support.”

  All eyes turned to Stacey. She was still skeptical about saving the beach, although I had to admit she seemed to know what she was talking about.

  “Well, then,” Don said. “We’ll have to find a way to raise money.”

  “How?” Mandy asked.

  A bunch of ideas were thrown out—a fashion show, a telethon, an auction—until Alice’s hand shot up in the air. “How about a party?” she said.

  “A party?” Stacey repeated.

  “This year in school we had a party in the gym to raise money for new computers,” Alice said. “Everyone who came made a donation. Not only did we get some really cool computers for the school,” she continued, “we had enough money left over for a frozen yogurt machine in the cafeteria!”

  “Come to think of it,” I said, “we did something similar in our high school when we were juniors.”

  “Except we raised money to buy new sports equipment,” George said.

  “This isn’t middle or high school, girls,” Stacey said frostily. “And it certainly isn’t River Heights.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “This is Hollywood, so you can invite A-list celebrities and entertainment executives. I think Alice has a great idea.” And I reached across the table to give her a high five.

  Don smiled and said, “I like it. I think I like it.”

  “So do Mallory, Mia, and I,” Mandy said excitedly.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” said Stacey, practically standing up. “Speaking as an event planner—do you have any clue what goes into putting together a party of this magnitude?”

  “No, but you do,” Don said. “Which is why we need you.”

  “Absolutely, Stacey,” Joanne agreed. “When it comes to event planning, you’re the best. We’ll need top-notch entertainment, gourmet food, and great guests, so only the best event planner will do.”

  Stacey’s eyes lit up at the word “best.” I had a funny feeling Joanne had just said the magic word.

  “Well,” Stacey said, a smile coming slowly to her face, “I suppose I could throw in my two cents.”

  Mallory popped up from her chair. She held up her hand and said, “All those in favor of having a fabulous party to raise money to save the beach say aye!”

  “Aye!” everyone around the table declared.

  “Ye-es!” Alice cheered, pumping her fist. Her idea to have a party to save the beach was officia
l.

  “Now,” Stacey said, “before I get to work, I’ll need to set up some kind of headquarters for the event. You know, a place where the entertainment can rehearse, where we can have meetings—”

  “What about your house, Stacey?” Bess asked.

  “My place is a dollhouse compared to the rest of the mansions,” Stacey said. “Before the oil slick, Leonard Stamp had plans to tear it down.”

  Bess, George, and I traded surprised looks. That was news to us.

  “We’d offer Villa Fabuloso,” Mandy said. “But our camera crew is there practically every day.”

  When no one else volunteered, Stacey shrugged. “I think we should use Roland’s house, next door to mine.”

  “The mansion?” Bess gasped.

  I couldn’t believe it either. Roland’s Renewal Retreat and Spa was where his evil escapades had begun.

  Cynthia Wall, a high-profile lawyer, shook her head. “No can do, Stacey,” she said. “If Roland is dead, his will has to go through probate. His mansion may have to go to his estate.”

  “Not if it was rented,” Stacey said.

  “Rented?” said Cynthia.

  “I happen to know that Roland didn’t own the mansion,” Stacey explained. “It was a rental.”

  How did Stacey know that? She must have been a nosier neighbor than I thought.

  “Stacey is right,” a red-haired woman piped up. “Roland was renting it from our real-estate agency.”

  “I say we pay the rent on Roland’s mansion for a month,” Stacey suggested. “That will give us plenty of time to use the house as our headquarters. We can even use the beach for the event.”

  “The rent can’t be cheap,” Don said.

  “It’s a small price to pay for the donations we’ll get for saving the beach,” Stacey pointed out.

  We thought we had seen the last of that horrible mansion at the end of the beach—and its horrible memories.

  “I might be able to persuade a certain celebrity chef to provide the food,” Stacey said, working her smartphone. “And since a party isn’t a party without great entertainment, I’ll see who’s available—”

  “Um … Stacey?” Austin cut in, raising his hand as if he was in school.

  Stacey looked up from her phone “What?” she asked.