From the Publisher: “Alyce Justice was beautiful. She was not yet thirty, and less than twenty-four hours earlier, with millions watching, she’d held up her Oscar for Best Actress. Now the police announced she’s dead, brutally murdered at the Palisades Estates.
Detective Lucas Horne is on the case, and it should have been a simple one. Justice died shortly after a party held at the Estates. The only attendees were the eleven residents, and only one of them had a motive for murder. Her estranged husband, Brandon Bradford, an immensely popular actor known as much for his temper as for his movies. His anger at her affair with her director, Richard Gold, had been splashed all over social media for months. Just one problem. Bradford had been passed out during the party and was sleeping it off at another house. His alibi was airtight. There were witnesses.
It’s up to Lucas Horne to unravel the mystery and bring a dead woman justice, but if Bradford was the killer, how could he have been in two places at the same time?
The answer is both elusive and deadly…”
More info About the Author: “I was born in Santa Monica, California. My father was a career Army officer and my mother a teacher. By the time I graduated from Carnegie Mellon University (’69) I had attended twelve schools and lived in ten cities in two countries. I’ve learned to adapt.
My “career” has been varied: designer, architect, photographer, woodworker and, briefly, a professional golfer (better to have tried and failed…). Although the desire to write was a significant passion since college, writing was, until ten years ago, mostly part-time. I had a small design business and my clients generally precluded any time to write. I completed my first novel twenty-five years ago and have subsequently written four others as well as three original screenplays.
I am living proof of the great Bob Dylan’s creed: life isn’t about finding yourself, that it’s not about finding anything. It’s about creating yourself.”
If we do not maintain justice,
justice will not maintain us.
Francis Bacon
Before
Alyce Justice took a deep breath in anticipation of the words—the name—that would be revealed in a matter of seconds. The audience was silent and the brief passage of time would float past her, as if suspended. She wasn’t nervous, as one would rightly expect, for she was only twenty-seven and this was her first nomination. Nor was she sure she was going to win. She had an enormous amount of self-confidence, bordering, but never crossing, into cockiness or arrogance. She knew she would win someday but it didn’t have to be tonight. It would come when it was time, whether this year or the next or the next.
When her name was announced she opened her eyes, smiled that extraordinary smile, then turned calmly and kissed her husband, Brandon, then embraced her sister, Abigail. As if she had rehearsed her movements for years she moved surely onto the stage with a radiant grace, the audience applauding her every step.
Accepting the gold statuette she turned to face her peers, their faces obscured by the lights, their admiration evident by their applause. She thanked her co-stars, her director, and the producers, said “I love you” to her parents in Pittsburgh, then walked off the proscenium as elegantly as she had entered, now filled with the knowledge that she mattered.
Watching her for only the four minutes she was in focus, it was apparent that she possessed a quality few attain. Often compared to Grace Kelly, she was a star in every sense of the word. Not only beautiful and talented but possessing the elusive aura that penetrates and permeates by her sheer presence. Her future was as bright as one could imagine: married to Hollywood’s most popular actor, idolized by an adoring public, and now, an Oscar for Best Actress. As the pictures of her clutching the gold statuette were splashed across around the world, her place and magnitude of brightness in the mercurial galaxy of celebrity was nearly unsurpassed.
Yet fewer than twenty-four hours later, after the greatest triumph in her brief, meteoric career, the Internet and all of its offspring were filled with news the police announced: Alyce Justice was found dead in her Palisades home.
Chapter One
Sgt. John Malloy took the vibrating phone out of his back pocket and looked at the screen. He saw the name Evans and answered brightly. “Hey! Pissed my Lakers took down your new-look Clippers last night?”
“No, not that. But nothing good, I’m afraid. We’ve got a body. Female, deceased,” Evans said, a tremor in his voice. “You’re not going to believe this, but it’s Alyce Justice.”
“Jesus,” Malloy whispered. “You sure it’s her?”
“Yeah. Housekeeper discovered the body about ten minutes ago, ran over to us in hysterics. I went to the house and confirmed it was her and that she was deceased. Looks like she was stabbed. Didn’t touch anything.”
Malloy took a deep breath. “Okay. Don’t do anything. No one out or in. I’ll have Gundy and a medic there as soon as possible. Probably ten minutes.”
Malloy put the phone against his chest, momentarily frozen by the two words Alyce Justice. He turned to Hernandez at the computer. “Take over, I gotta talk to Barton,” he said, walking rapidly across the small lobby and into the office area, knocking on the half-opened door on the left and then entering.
“We have a body over at the Palisades Estates,” he said, “Jerry Evans called it in and said it’s Alyce Justice.”
“Jesus Christ,” he said, the skin on Capt. Joe Barton’s face tightening noticeably. “Shit!” he said under his breath, his mind suddenly exploding into a hundred slivers of thoughts.
“Have Gundy and a medic go there?” asked Malloy.
Barton leaned forward. “Who did you say called it in?”
“Evans—he thought she had been stabbed and said she was dead. We need to get someone there quickly and not the easiest place to get to from here.”
“Yeah, take Gundy and Hector to confirm—no sirens, no lights once you get to Chautauqua. Call me on your cell when you see what the story is. I’ll call Banning. If it is her, he’s going to want his RHD guys to handle it.”
Malloy nodded then turned around quickly and left.
Barton paused as he picked up the phone, knowing if it was true, that if Alyce Justice had been murdered just a few miles away, his life could be a living hell for the foreseeable future. He prayed that it was a mistake.
Malloy, Detective Tim Gundy, and Medic Hector Campos drove quickly to Santa Monica Boulevard then to the Coast Highway with their siren and lights on before heading up Chautauqua. The gated, fortress-like Palisades Estates was on a plateau that was closest to the ocean and high above it.
He turned onto Corona Del Mar Drive, stopping at the Estates entrance gate to show his badge then quietly entered the compound. Belgian Block paving wound through a stretch of large plantings before curving left into the exclusive and ultra-private enclave of six houses. Malloy saw Evans outside of the third house and they parked in front. There was no sign of anyone else.
“Upstairs and to the right,” Evans said quietly. “No sign of forced entry. It’s almost impossible to get in without a key. Alarm system is state-of-the-art.”
“Where’s the husband?” Gundy asked.
Evans shook his head and pointed to the yellow Ferrari twenty yards away. “That’s his car but he isn’t in there. He doesn’t really live here anymore—he has a place in Brentwood. He only comes here to visit. There was a party here last night that went to the wee hours so maybe he’s sleeping one off in one of the other houses.”
Gundy took out his notebook and wrote: “Husband?”
Hector, Gundy, and Malloy put on sterile foot coverings and gloves before entering the house. “Jesus,” Gundy said upon entering, the view of the Pacific through the enormous, two-story window filling his eyes. “Must be nice,” he sighed as they walked slowly up the curving staircase to a balcony and then to the bedroom. They all stepped gingerly, careful not to touch any surface, at the same time surveying the surroundings for any clues or evidence that might tell them what happened.
Entering the bedroom slowly, the three men stopped as they saw the large king-sized bed. The sun streamed through a clerestory window above, illuminating her like a spotlight, the sleeping mask over her eyes not diminishing her beauty. A blood-soaked sheet covered her up to the base of her neck.
“Holy Mother,” Hector said, pausing momentarily to cross himself and whisper “Que Dios descanse su almamay(may God rest her soul).” He took her pulse at the side of her neck, shaking his head. “She’s dead. Looks like you got yourself a big-time homicide.”
“Yeah, someone does, but it won’t be me,” Gundy responded, peering closer but still cautiously avoiding any contact with the victim or the bed.
“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Malloy said softly.
“Yeah, a real shame. She just won the Oscar last night,” Tim said.
“Maybe someone was a sore loser,” Malloy commented as they left the room.
“I’m going to call Barton,” Gundy said as they exited the house. “Put some tape around the perimeter of the house. No, on second thought, no tape. Someone might see it and alert the fucking press. Just make sure all doors are locked. Only the door we came in will be used.”
Lucas Horne was at his desk in the squad room, reviewing his notes before a scheduled court appearance after lunch. It was just a preliminary hearing in a relatively obscure homicide, but Horne took all court appearances seriously. He was just as meticulous in his preparations for being a witness as he was as in being a detective. There were no obscure murders to him. They were all important, especially to the victims.
He was oblivious as Lt. Tommy Pedersen, his supervisor and head of the Homicide Special Unit, walked up to his desk, tapped the top with his knuckle then silently motioned him to follow. Horne was pained at the interruption, but nonetheless took his coat off the back of his chair and slipped it on as he followed Pedersen down the corridor.
“I think you’re going to have to cancel that court appearance,” Pedersen said as they entered the office of Captain Will Banning, the head of Robbery/Homicide.
Banning was standing at his desk, talking on the phone. His silvered hair caught the sun streaming through the window. He motioned for them to sit while he listened to Elisha Simpson, chief of the LAPD, offer his advice. Banning seemed annoyed at whatever Simpson was saying but answered politely, nodding his head like a bobble head toy. After a minute of what sounded like a one-way conversation, he hung up. After nearly forty years on the force and planning on retirement in six months, he had hoped his last year would be free of the mayhem he knew was about to be unleashed.
“Why the hell can’t I retire in peace?” he said fixing his gaze on Horne. “How’d you like a promotion, Luke? I’m ready to hand over the keys to the kingdom.”
“No thanks, Will,” Horne smiled. “You’re a bit late. I’m retiring in another week. Before you.”
Banning ignored the comment. “Alyce Justice—the movie star Alyce Justice—was found dead in the Palisades less than an hour ago. West LA confirmed so it’s in our hands. Actually, your hands. You and Norelli need to get there quickly—where is he, by the way?”
“DA’s office. Something about the Fry case,” Pedersen said.
“Has he been paged or texted or whatever it is we do these days?” Banning asked Pedersen.
“Yeah. He’s on his way here,” Pedersen replied.
Banning looked at Horne. “Okay, as soon as he gets here, get out to the Palisades. We’re lucky so far, nothing has gone out over the radio, so the media doesn’t know yet. When they do, all hell will break loose,” he said, shaking his head. “I know I don’t have to tell you, but everything by the book. I don’t want any screw-ups. We can’t afford another T.D. Not on my watch, anyway.”
Horne remained expressionless, knowing exactly what he meant. “I’m sorry, Will, but did you not hear what I just said? I’m retiring at the end of this week.”
Banning nodded. “Yes, I heard you, but until that time you are still a homicide detective, correct?”
“Yes.”
Will walked around his desk and sat on the edge of the front, facing Horne. “You and I go back a long time, Lucas. A very long time. You’re the best detective I’ve ever known and you’ve always been loyal to the law and the department no matter what. Now I’m asking you to do something I wouldn’t ask anyone if it wasn’t important. Important to me and to the department,” he said firmly. He walked back around the desk and looked out the window, hands in his pockets. “This is big, Luke. She’s not just any movie star. She’s young and after last night….” he said, sadly. “Plus she’s married to the biggest fucking star on the planet. I know you don’t give a crap about Hollywood stuff but this is as big as T.D. White, maybe bigger. We fucked that one up royally and I can’t have that happen again.”
“You seem to forget I was one of the ones who, as you said, fucked it up royally,” Horne said plainly.
“No, I haven’t forgotten and you know I’ve always stood by you and defended you because I know it wasn’t your fault,” Banning said, turning around to face him. “I need you to do this, if not for the department, for me.”
Horne stood silently for a moment before turning around and walking to the door where he stopped and looked back. “I’ll do it, Will, partially for you, partially for the department. But most importantly, I’ll do it for the same reason I work every case. I’ll do it for the victim, Alice Justice.”
Pedersen put his hand on Luke’s shoulder and said softly. “Her name is not Alice. It’s spelled A-L-Y-C-E and pronounced Ah-lease. You might want to remember that.”
Horne gave him a thin smile.
“Tommy, you go with them. I want to be kept informed of everything every step of the way.”
Pedersen waved as they left the office.
“What about West L.A.? What are they going to provide?” Horne asked, their steps echoing in the corridor.
“They’ve got a detective on the scene, but he’s just waiting for you. Once you get there and assess the situation, we’ll decide what we need from them.”
“Do you know who the detective is?” Horne asked.
“Gundy. Know him?”
“Yes. Good detective. Worth keeping on the case, at least to begin with,” he replied as they nearly ran into Norelli getting off the elevator.
“What the hell’s happening?” Norelli asked.
“Homicide, detective,” Horne said, gently pushing him back into the elevator. “Your car.”
Norelli gave them a puzzled look but said nothing. He was the neophyte in Homicide Special and knew enough to wait until the right time to ask any questions.
“Should I ask where we’re going?” Norelli said as he pulled out onto First Street, the time right.
“Palisades. Take the Ten,” Horne said. “I hate the freeways but we’re going opposite rush hour so that’s going to be fastest this time of day.”
Norelli put the lights and siren on, blaring a hole in the traffic as they merged onto the Santa Monica Freeway.
“Palisades? Must be a big-time homicide for us to be going out there.”
“Alyce Justice. Or so we have been told,” Pedersen said plainly.
Norelli turned his head abruptly toward Horne, his eyes wide with astonishment. “The Alyce Justice? The movie star?”
“I believe so,” Horne replied, his knowledge of Hollywood celebrities minimal at best. “Watch the road.”
Norelli couldn’t believe it. “Jesus, I just watched her on TV last night winning the Oscar. Jesus. What do we know? Anything?”
“No, just that she was found about an hour or so ago. Apparently stabbed in her bed,” Horne said. “Did West L.A. call it in to the coroner?” he asked, turning around to Pedersen.
“As far as I know, no. They didn’t want to do anything until we got there.”
Horne immediately called the Scientific Investigation Department—SID—to tell them to send a criminalist team, and then the county’s coroner’s office for an investigator, specifically asking for Linda Christian’s team.
Norelli paid attention to the road but also to Horne. He had been his partner for only a few months and was seventeen years younger. Having only worked two relatively minor and simple cases together they were still feeling each other out.
Horne made a few notes then put the pad into his coat pocket and looked toward Norelli. He wanted to make sure his partner knew what was at stake with this one.
“The media doesn’t know about this yet, but they will very shortly. Until you go through it, you have no idea what they can do to an investigation, to say nothing of the trial. Everything on this case is by the book, and if you’re not sure of something, ask me. And above all else, do not so much as look at a reporter, do not even acknowledge their presence. Tommy will take care of them. Right, Tommy?”
Pedersen was looking at his cell phone. “What? What did you say, Luke?”
Horne half smiled. “Nothing, lieutenant.” Then to Norelli, “Understand?”
“Sure,” he answered nervously, his mind suddenly thinking of T.D. White. “Understood.”
This excerpt is published here courtesy of the author and publisher and should not be reprinted without permission.
A lyrical and heartfelt tribute from a parent to their “everything,” their child. From the Publisher: "Following a parent and Read more
Could her Twitter Crush be her Prince Charming? From the Publisher: "A whirlwind romance. A heart-thumping new start. Widowed and Read more
"Welcome to Christmastime at Port Mariette, where friendship, faith, and second chance romance weave together to transform a small town." Read more
Littsburgh has always been a “nights and weekends” passion project, ever since we started the site back in 2015. We Read more
"One doctor. One patient. One terrible lie." From the Publisher: "I used to have it all. My ex-boyfriend and I Read more
"Life on the streets is hard but it's deadly when a young woman battles addiction." From the Publisher: "Where is Read more
One impulsive decision changes the lives of two lifelong friends forever in a powerful novel of suspense by the USA Today bestselling Read more
From the Publisher: "Somehow, the sun always finds its way through the windows of the five mansions on Wisteria Drive. Read more
From the Publisher: "Calling My Life With Literacy a 'new intersectionality,' Harvey J. Graff explores both overarching and underlying patterns that Read more
"Lush illustrations and a captivating narrative make this biography shine." —Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review “Focusing on scenes of people and Read more
From the Publisher: "With Every Step That I Take is a collection of poems exploring a rebuilt relationship with Christianity..." Read more
From the Publisher: "As Captain of the vaunted Marksmen Guard, Neil Stryder is considered one of, if not the most, Read more
"Novy's book is a must read for anyone who researches, studies or writes about adoption." —Lorraine Dusky, author of Hole Read more
About the Author: Linda Rettstatt is an award-winning and bestselling author of women's fiction, romance (contemporary and seasoned), suspense, regional historical Read more
From the Publisher: "We are proud to announce the release of John Repp’s Star Shine in the Pines, the first title Read more
"‘Generosity’ is the word that first comes to mind whenever I think of Philip Terman’s poetry. My Blossoming Everything may Read more
From the Publisher: "'Hey girl, u up? Wanna cuddle?' Ahhh, how poetic, right?! Alas - love and chivalry is not Read more
"Truly one of the best writers of his generation."—Gerald Locklin, author of Charles Bukowski: A Sure Bet New story collection Read more
From the Publisher, Izzard Ink: Lost love. Industrial catastrophe. Can it all be redeemed? A retired English teacher returns to Read more
From the Publisher: "Tony Moretti has hit bottom. He's tried several occupations in the fifteen years since he graduated from Read more
