“Hollywood is glitter and gutter. Some make it to the top and stay there, basking in the splendor of it, while others hit bottom and are engulfed by the ugliness of it.” ~Catherine Winter, Private Investigator
The stalking of two young professional print models leads private investigator Catherine Winter into the dark and dirty shadows of Hollywood's entertainment elite. Portraits of these people become distorted and out of focus as murder, pornography, illicit drugs, and blackmail, color the view while Catherine searches for truth.
Catherine, now widowed and in her early sixties, insists, “As long as arthritis doesn’t lock up my joints or cataracts don’t keep my eyes from hitting the bulls-eye with a .357 slug then my shingle will stay on my door—C. Winter, Private Investigator.”
She works closely with Los Angeles Police Department and enjoys a romantic relationship with Homicide Commander John Anderson. Although at times considered a little outrageous, she has the respect of police officers she has worked with in her long career. She has seen it all and does not flinch when up against the criminal world. Determined, open minded, she relies on her intuition in investigative work.
“In this business you try your best to harden yourself to looking death straight in the eye but every time you are forced to face it you realize how damn vulnerable each of us are.”
~Catherine Winter, California Private Investigator
I am pleased to have received these endorsement quotes:
“Linda Pendleton's first private-eye novel, Shattered Lens, is a brilliant debut.”
~Richard S. Prather, author of the Shell Scott Mystery Series.
“I enjoyed Shattered Lens very much. Catherine Winter is a good private investigator. I look forward to more stories.” ~R. A., Southern California
“Great! Another page turner I couldn’t put down. I really enjoyed the main character, Catherine Winter, Private Investigator. Interesting, no nonsense, but fun, well rounded older gal. She is just as interesting and sexy as the younger ones. She’s also a great detective. Meets up with some interesting characters to solve this crime of murder. Of course things are never as easy or clear as they seem. You will definitely enjoy this one.” ~Anne L Boss
“The hardcore mystery makes a come-back! Too many mysteries these days are little more than watered-down thrillers. At last, a whodunit in the spirit of a Sherlock Holmes mystery has returned. Linda Pendleton busts out of the gate with her first novel of licensed private investigator Catherine Winter. Winter picks up a young girl for a client--a young girl wrapped up in the glitz, drugs, and porn of Hollywood life--who shortly thereafter winds up dead. And the list of suspects is neither short nor usual.
“What makes the book so pleasurable to read outside of the brisk pace is that nothing comes easy for Winter. She has to "earn" it in the same way that Linda has earned her right to sit at the top with today's other crime writers. The inside look at Hollywood and surrounding areas rings with authenticity. As a writer, I've often been disappointed in a lot of mysteries on the shelf but I knocked this one out in no time at all. Yeah, it was just that easy. Part police procedural, part hardboiled, and all entertaining, this one's a keeper.” ~Jon Guenther, Author, Soul Runner
Now Available at Amazon.com in trade paper and for the Kindle Reader.
ISBN: 144951054-X
ISBN EAN-13-9781449510541
Read Excerpt, Shattered Lens, Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE: CASE IN POINT
Exactly what is destiny? If we could gaze into a crystal ball and see events about to happen would we have the ability to change the outcome of an event, one that was especially bad? Premonitions may foretell the future with accuracy, but then again, they can creep into the mind and cause anxiety and anticipation and then never occur. If something is predestined is there a possibility of changing it or keeping it from happening?
I began asking myself these questions not long after a young woman came into my office late one afternoon. I soon discovered I did not have any answers. Hell, I didn’t even have a crystal ball but I did know there was danger ahead. I'd learned in my long career to recognize dangerous situations, but even with recognition, danger and evil could leave their mark.
I’d seen the good, bad, and the ugly on the streets of Southern California, and in looking back over the years it has always seemed the ugly outnumbered the other two. Especially when it hit too close to home. I’d had that happen twice. The first time, my older brother who was a young rookie cop was shot. The bullet luckily did not find a death mark, but it quickly convinced him he had picked the wrong career and he left the police department for what he considered a saner career at his local post office. The other time, did not end as well. It reeked of ugliness. The kid was only nineteen. She was a freshman at college. Beautiful, smart, filled with dreams, and some animal decided to rape and beat her to death. She was my cousin.
Another thing I've learned is I could make a promise and I would not stop until my promise was fulfilled. And often that did not come easy in my business.
On that afternoon I cleared my desk and was returning client files to my filing cabinet when my office door opened slightly and a tall, slender woman who appeared to be in her early twenties hesitantly peered in. Honey-blond long hair framed a stunning face accented by high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. Despite sporting a stylish emerald green jacket over a white blouse tucked into designer jeans, she had a look of innocence and shyness about her.
But at the moment, I was not sure I trusted my first impression as it had been one of those workdays I had come to dread in my years in the business. You know the kind of day, the ones where you swear everyone you encounter had climbed out of bed on the wrong side, a day that convinces you planet alignments are surely affecting activities on Earth, no matter what your belief in astrology.
I usually have an easy-going disposition and for the most part I don’t allow too much to get the best of me, but today had been stressful and chaotic and I'd been pushed about to my limit. A couple of my clients were unreasonably demanding about getting results that would take some time and insistent that I do it their way, despite all my years of experience as a private detective, and I struggled to keep my professional cool with them. Obviously some people will never understand that it takes time for legal documents to be drawn up, legally recorded, and returned. It seemed my office door was a revolving one for some Disneyland ride, and more than one kook had danced through the entrance. As always it is a challenge to reason with an unreasonable person. So feeling somewhat harried I had decided to call it a day and lock up a little early.
Now she walks in. And although this young woman appeared to be centered and far from a kook, I groaned to myself but showed her a pleasant, professional smile and said, “Can I help you?”
She looked the office over, looked me over, appeared about ready to withdraw but instead returned my smile and asked, “Uh, is Mr. Winter in?”
I replied, “Nope. He died a few years ago. I’m Catherine Winter.”
She looked somewhat embarrassed and said, “Oh, I’m sorry.” She frowned, started to retreat and close the door but then stuck her head back in and asked, “You’re a...a detective?”
“That’s right,” I told her. “Private investigator.”
I was not at all surprised by her reaction as many who came through my door reacted in much the same way. “You expected a man,” I added. I was trying to get a read on her nervousness.
“Well, yes. Yes, I did.” She stared at me for a few seconds. “You know, I just assumed that C. Winter was a man,” she said as she entered my office and closed the door behind her.
“Please sit down. Your name?” I inquired, motioning to one of the brown leather chairs opposite my cherry wood desk.
She hesitantly crossed the room, lowered herself onto the chair, and replied, “Lucy Albright, but I don’t think I’m at the right place.”
“Oh?”
Her cheeks colored. “I mean this is the place I wanted, but, you know, I mean you probably can’t handle my case.”
“I haven’t seen many I’ve turned away from in thirty some years in the business,” I replied.
“Uh....” She lowered her eyes to her lap and twisted the emerald ring on her right hand. Without returning her gaze to mine, she added, “That’s what I mean.”
“What is what you mean?” I inquired.
She looked up and color returned to her cheeks as she said, “Well, I thought my case needs someone a little, um, younger to handle it. You seem older. Well, I mean, you know.”
Sure, I knew exactly what she meant. I had heard it often. Some people believe when you turn sixty you belong in a rocking chair on the porch of an old folks’ home, bored and dispassionately awaiting the arrival of your monthly retirement check. Let me tell you that you’ll never find me doing that. When it is time for me to go out to pasture, it ain’t gonna be that way.
As long as arthritis doesn’t lock up my joints or cataracts don’t keep my eyes from hitting the bulls-eye with a .357 slug then my shingle will stay on my door, C. Winter, Private Investigator.
See, I couldn’t give up this work. I cannot even conceive of doing anything else. I have to admit that I did give some consideration to giving it up a few years back when Charlie died. He had been my partner, not just in matrimony but in career. We were quite a team, Charlie and me. It was really difficult to go on with our detective agency without him, but I quickly realized that it was the only way to keep my sanity. I love this work and besides, it’s my life. So when I lost Charlie, I soon discovered that I had to “follow my bliss,” as the late, brilliant scholar, Joseph Campbell suggested. It was either grab onto my bliss or go crawl into a dark cave somewhere and I knew that wouldn’t work for long. Sure this investigative work has its problems, but I’m doing what I want to be doing and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And besides, I’m a damned good detective.
So all I had to do for the moment was convince my young prospective client that I was the “man” for the job.
I said, “I never let a little gray hair or a few wrinkles get in the way.”
My words amused her. She gave a half smile as she commented, “I don’t see any gray hair.”
I returned the smile. “Good. I can thank my hair dresser for that. But the wrinkles, they’ll have to stay. How about a cup of coffee while you tell me why you’re here?”
“Thanks,” she replied with a full smile. “With a little sugar, please.”
“A teaspoon do?” I asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
I drained the coffee pot, my second of the day. I stirred sugar into one cup, handed it to her, settled back into my chair with my cup and invited her to tell me her story.
She began with a sigh and said, “My roommate’s in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble are we talking about?”
“This guy...some guy is stalking her, calling her, threatening, you know.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“Well, sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“Well, I told her last night it was time she had help and I told her I’d find some.”
“Lucy, I can’t help if she doesn’t want my help.”
“Oh, but she does,” she replied emphatically. “It’s just that she’s afraid to come here. She thinks he follows her everywhere she goes. She just knows that the guy’s always there and she’s scared out of her mind.”
“Is he always following her?”
“No, but you can’t tell her that. She’s really spooked, you know. Sometimes she even gets phone calls C like when she’s at a restaurant. When she goes to the phone no one’s there. It’s driving her crazy.”
“Any idea who it is?”
“Well, I think it’s her ex-husband. The guy’s a creep.”
That sounded interesting so I pursued that. “How long has he been her ex?”
She was thoughtful for a moment. “Gosh, more than four years. Yes, has to be that long. We got our apartment together not long after they split.”
“You know him, then?”
“Well, not really. I know who he is. And I know he’s bad news. Cherise doesn’t have to tell me. I’ve heard it from a lot of people in the business, the entertainment business. He’s an agent, talent agent, and I hear he’s a bastard.”
“Cherise is your roommate?”
“Yes. Cherise McDaniels.”
“Did she talk to the police about this?”
“Yes,” she answered, a look of exasperation on her face. “They weren’t much help. You know, uninterested. They advised us to change our phone number.”
I gave her an understanding nod. I’d heard that too many times. Sadly, the cops usually wait until someone gets hurt before stepping in, though usually through no real fault of their own. They just need some hard evidence to move on. “Tell you what, Lucy, have Cherise give me a call and we’ll discuss it.” I handed her a couple of my business cards. “She can reach me at this number twenty-four hours a day.”
She sighed as she took the cards and dropped them into her handbag. I could tell there was still something on her mind. I didn’t have to wait long for her to reveal what it was. She fumbled in her handbag, then pulled out a wad of bills, counted out five one-hundred dollar bills and placed them on the desk in front of me. “Mrs. Winter, I want to retain your services. This should be enough to cover it.” She lowered her eyes and her voice softened but a hint of desperation came into it as she said, “Please don’t say no. I’m scared for me, too. We need your help.” She looked up and her eyes met mine. “This guy’s crazy, he’s sick. He not only calls the apartment, he’s been there and he let us know it.”
That sounded alarming. “You mean he breaks in?” I asked.
“He got in, somehow. A couple of weeks ago we found a note on the entry table.” She pulled an envelope from her handbag and handed it to me. “Please, look at this.”
I opened the envelope. It was a greeting card with fireworks pictured on the front and the word SURPRISE! Inside, neatly printed in red ink was this message: Girls, oh girls, what a shame the way you play the game. The shiny blade will find its mark, so don’t feel so smug and smart. Lover Boy.
A chill went through me. I asked, “Have you had other notes like this?”
“No.”
I assumed they hadn’t shown this card to the police but I inquired anyway. “Do the police know about this?”
“No.”
Sure as hell, I had myself a new case. There was no turning away from this one. These girls could be facing big trouble and they damn well had reason to be frightened. “Looks like you just hired yourself a detective,” I said.
Relief flooded her face. “Oh, thank you Mrs. Winter!”
“Make that Catherine.”
“Okay." She relaxed into the chair. “What do we do now, Catherine?”
“Can I hang onto this card?”
“Sure.”
“Think you're being followed, too?”
“I don’t think so. Of course, everywhere I go, I’m looking over my shoulder but-”
I interrupted. “Nothing suspicious?”
“No. See, he started out just bugging Cherise but he’s now included me.”
“I’d like to talk to Cherise.”
She sighed. “I know I can’t get her to come here. She’s afraid to even use the phone.”
“Then I’ll go to her.”
“You would? When?”
“As soon as possible.”
Lucy nodded. “Okay, let’s see. Tomorrow we’re doing a photo session all day and-”
“Photo session?”
“Yes. We’re both models. Magazine layouts, that kind of thing. We work through the same agency so we often get the same job. This week we’re scheduled together so-”
“How about lunch,” I suggested.
“Oh. Yes. That would work out.” Her face brightened. “We have at least an hour lunch break. Could you come by the studio? It’s over on Wilshire in Beverly Hills.”
“What time?”
“About noon...if Felipe is on schedule. He can be so temperamental if things don’t go smoothly. You could just wait, if you don’t mind, but figure 12:00.” She grabbed one of my cards from the card holder on my desk and scribbled down an address on the back and then slid it across my desk. “Just tell the receptionist that you’re there to meet me and she’ll let you come into the studio.”
“I’ll be there, Lucy, and introduce me as your great-aunt Catherine from Oregon, okay?”
She smiled and nodded. “Sure.”
I told Lucy Albright to be careful as she left my office, and I meant it. I had the distinct feeling these two girls had something to worry about. It was the note that clinched it for me. I felt it in my belly, and I have learned over the years to never ignore those intuitive feelings.
The scent of her perfume lingered in the air as I closed the office door behind her. As I gathered up my belongings, I glanced up at Charlie’s photograph hanging on the wall and said out loud, “Boy, Charlie, we really have our work cut out for us on this one. You had better stick close by my side—I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
As I started to pull the office door shut, I glanced again at Charlie’s picture and I could have sworn that Charlie winked at me. My momentary smile was replaced by a frown as I felt my stomach tighten again. I just knew there was trouble ahead.
© Copyright 2009 by Linda Pendleton.
“Linda Pendleton's first private-eye novel, Shattered Lens, is a brilliant debut.”
~Richard S. Prather, author of the Shell Scott Mystery Series.
“I enjoyed Shattered Lens very much. Catherine Winter is a good private investigator. I look forward to more stories.” ~R. A., Southern California
“Great! Another page turner I couldn’t put down. I really enjoyed the main character, Catherine Winter, Private Investigator. Interesting, no nonsense, but fun, well rounded older gal. She is just as interesting and sexy as the younger ones. She’s also a great detective. Meets up with some interesting characters to solve this crime of murder. Of course things are never as easy or clear as they seem. You will definitely enjoy this one.” ~Anne L Boss
Shattered Lens is available at Amazon.com, Trade Paper Edition and Kindle Edition
Other Books by Linda Pendleton
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