Malibu Mayhem Trilogy 02: Mystery At Malachite Mansion (5 page)

After scrubbing down the doorstep and sweeping the path, we were ready to go next door.

“To be honest,” I said as we walked through the open gate of Roland’s defunct retreat, “I never thought we’d be back here either.”

Once inside, Bess, George, and I expected to find a press conference going on. Instead we saw a flurry of people hauling ladders, cans of paint, and brushes. One guy was holding papers that looked like construction plans.

“What’s going on?” I wondered.

Stacey walked into view, staring down at her phone. “Hello, girls,” she said as her thumbs busily texted. “I was just adding a few things to my schedule.”

When
wasn’t
Stacey glued to her phone and her schedule?

“Hi, Stacey,” I said. “Who are all these—”

“Malachite Morning Show, six o’clock a.m.,” Stacey said to herself. She finally looked up and smiled. “Guess what? Thanks to my press conference, the buzz on the party has begun. You wouldn’t believe the interviews I’ve set up—morning shows, newscasts, social media—”

“Coming through!” a young guy shouted, barely missing Stacey with the ladder he was carrying.

“What’s all this?” George asked.

But before Stacey could answer George, her phone blared and she shouted, “What do you mean you can’t get me flowers from Bora-Bora?” Her voice trailed off as she walked away. “Do you know how many A-listers are coming to this event? Of course they can tell the difference!”

“And speaking of B-list celebs,” George said, “here come Mandy and Mallory.”

“George!” I hissed, jabbing her with my elbow.

Mandy and Mallory zigzagged around the workers toward us.

“Surprise!” Mallory exclaimed. “Mandy and I asked the show
House Busters
to get the mansion in shape for the party, and they came in a flash!”

“They’re famous for that,” Mandy said.

“
House Busters
?” Bess said. “You mean the reality show where they fix up houses at record-breaking speed?”

“Correct!” Mallory said, her eyes flashing. “The producer promised us they would fix up the mansion in just a few days—even redo the pool, too. Can you believe it?”

“I should have known it was another reality show,” George said. She nodded at two buff guys carrying tool kits. “Those guys look like Abercrombie models with hammers.”

“Don’t worry, they’re not bringing their cameras,” Mandy said. “The cast and crew just want to help the beach out like everyone else.”

“When they’re finished, they’ll film the reveal,” Mallory added. “It’s in their contract.”

As Mallory spoke I noticed something weird. She was wearing shorts and a bikini top, but her stomach was covered with markings—as if someone had drawn on her skin with a pen.

“What’s with the treasure map?” George asked.

Mallory looked down and giggled. “Oops, I meant to wash it off,” she explained. “Right after the meeting I drove straight to Dr. Raymond’s office. He was just showing me where I could use a little lipo.”

“You mean liposuction?” I asked. “You don’t need that, Mallory. You look great, really healthy.”

“Healthy?” Mallory gasped. “That means fat, doesn’t it?”

“Calm down,” Mandy told her sister. She turned to us and smiled. “Mallory’s not having liposuction. She talked to Dr. Raymond about a contest we thought of after the meeting.”

“Yes!” Mallory said excitedly. “Whoever donates the most money to save the beach wins the plastic surgery procedure of their choice, performed by Dr. Raymond!”

“Genius!” Mandy said.

Mallory smiled. “We’ve got to go now,” she said. “The landscapers are here, and we want to make sure they don’t plant anything fake.”

I started laughing as the sisters hurried off.

“Go figure,” George said, shaking her head. “They don’t want any fake plants, but they have no problem with fake chins—”

“George, give the sisters a break,” Bess cut in. “They’re doing the best they can to save the beach.”

We walked through the house, dodging painters, carpenters, and designers. Work was going on all through the mansion—even in parts of the west wing where Roland’s notorious cult had been housed.

“Talk about déjà vu,” I said as we entered the all-too-familiar west wing. We approached the door to Inge’s old office, and I grabbed the doorknob.

“Nancy,
what
are you doing?” Bess asked.

“I want to see if the
House Busters
crew got to this room yet,” I said, opening the door.

With Bess and George behind me, I stepped inside. The room looked exactly the same as the day Inge signed Bess and me up for the cult. She’d had no clue we were there to investigate the retreat. But later she became suspicious, and that’s when things started getting hairy.

“How’s that for déjà vu?” George said, pointing to Roland’s portrait hanging behind the desk.

I shivered as I gazed at the portrait. The cult leader’s image was so lifelike with its cold blue eyes and grim smile.

“Okay, I know this might sound a little crazy,” Bess said. “But I feel like the eyes in the portrait are watching us.”

“Yup, it’s crazy,” George said with a nod.

The door to Roland’s office was right off Inge’s. It was shut too, but as I tried to open it—

“It’s locked,” I said. “Why would Inge’s office be open and not Roland’s?”

“Maybe the police locked it,” Bess said with a shrug.

“I think we’ve spent enough time in here,” George said, pulling me away from the door. “Let’s leave this skeevy office already.”

“I second the motion,” Bess said. “Maybe we can help some of those guys fix up the mansion. I am good at fixing and building things, you know.”

“
And
flirting,” I teased. “Some of those guys
were
pretty hot.”

We turned to leave Inge’s office when—

THUMP!!

“What was that?” Bess asked softly.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back.

What I
did
know was where the noise had come from: Roland’s office. His
locked
office.

I
called through the door, “Anybody in there?”

We waited a good fifteen seconds for a response.

“Roland’s body was never found,” Bess said. “You do know that, don’t you?”

“How can we forget, Bess?” George asked. “You keep reminding us every ten minutes.”

The thought of Roland still alive and holed inside his office gave me a chill, but before I could try the doorknob again, George grabbed my hand.

“Forget the noise and forget Roland,” George said. “Something heavy probably fell off a shelf or some
furniture. Remember, there’s a ton of construction going on in this place.”

That did make sense to me. All that drilling and hammering would make even the strongest house shake and rattle.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning away from the door.

“Wait,” George said. She walked over to Roland’s portrait and took it off the wall. “Why should we have to look at his sorry face anymore?”

George placed the portrait on the floor, Roland’s sinister face toward the wall. She dusted off her hands and said, “
Now
we can go!”

“We have a busy day ahead, girls,” Stacey said after a sip of her mocha java. “Sending out the invites, ordering flowers, getting estimates from the limo companies …”

Half listening to her, I looked out on the beach. It had been two days since the Malachite meeting. We had never told Stacey about the strange note or the noise coming from Roland’s office. Not that Stacey would have even heard us, the way she was focused on the party and her phone.

Cleanup crews were still working the beach, and I wished we were down there helping out instead of eating a leisurely breakfast, but Stacey insisted she needed our help today, especially today.

“Guess what?” Stacey’s voice interrupted my
thoughts. “Thanks to those amazing House Busters, the renovations on the mansion should be ready by tomorrow.”

“Have you come up with a date for the party?” Bess asked.

“I’m shooting for next Saturday night,” Stacey said. “I know it’s just a little over a week, but we can pull it off.”

“What about the entertainment?” I asked. “And the food—”

“Done!” Stacey declared. “I just received two confirmations this morning. The first was Miss Zaza’s manager to tell me that Zaza will perform at the event with two of her backup singers.”

Even George looked excited at the news. Getting Miss Zaza for any party was huge!

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet the incredible Miss Z,” Bess said.

“I can’t believe she once wore a dress made of cooked lobsters,” George said.

“Zaza assured me she will
not
be wearing her famous lobster number to the party,” Stacey said. “Instead she’ll be wearing an illuminated mermaid costume with a giant half shell. Which reminds me—”

She picked up her smartphone. “Ten a.m., schedule rehearsal time for Zaza,” she said aloud as she entered the latest addition to her schedule. “Ten thirty a.m.,
order stretch limo … Now, doesn’t this beat picking up stinky oil clumps and dead crabs?”

I blinked at Stacey’s question. There was no comparison between a party and a disastrous oil spill.

“This might be more fun,” I admitted. “But not necessarily more important—”

“Waiters!” Stacey interrupted.

“Huh?” I asked.

“I can’t believe I forgot to hire waiters for the party,” Stacey said, grabbing her phone again.

“My mom usually lines up a catering service for her parties,” George said. “They handle the food and the waitstaff.”

“Catering service—how River Heights!” Stacey said with a snort. “For this party I got Chef André Walters to create some of his famous recipes. That was my second confirmation.”

“André Walters?” Bess asked. “He’s the hottest celebrity chef these days. How did you get him?”

Stacey grinned and said, “I just happen to roll with a fabulous crowd.”

I heard George sigh. What Stacey had said about her mom
was
kind of tacky.

“Oh, and I’ll need you to do something else for me, if you don’t mind,” Stacey went on as she added another item to her schedule.

“Sure, what is it?” I asked.

“Can you move into the mansion next door until the party’s over?” Stacey asked with a smile. “The bedrooms have just been finished, and I hear they’re fabulous.”

Had she just asked us to move out of her house into Roland’s old mansion?

She continued, “You would have the whole mansion to yourselves. I’ll even make sure the fridge is stocked.”

“Um,” I said. “That sounds nice, Stacey, but—”

“But why do you want us to move out of your house?” George finished for me.

“Nothing personal,” Stacey blurted. “It’s just that the closer I get to an event, the more peace and quiet I need at home. You know, my office is here in the house.”

I couldn’t imagine frenetic Stacey needing any peace and quiet. I was about to promise to be quiet when George piped up.

“Sure, Stacey,” she said. “If that’s what you want, we’ll move next door.”

Bess stared at George, horrified. “After what happened to Nancy and me over there?” she said. “I wouldn’t stay at that mansion for all the money in the world.”

“Does that mean no?” Stacey asked.

Her eyes were still on Bess as she answered an
incoming call. I wasn’t crazy about moving next door either, but it seemed important to George.

“Meeting,” George whispered to us.

As we walked to the steps of the deck, Bess said, “Don’t bother talking me into it, George. I am not moving into that mansion. Period.”

“I don’t really want to move there either,” I admitted. “I mean, why can’t we just stay here? We’re already unpacked.”

“Because Stacey was nice enough to invite us to Malachite Beach,” George said. “Now that she needs her privacy, I think we should let her have it.”

“What about our awful experience?” Bess said.

“After the House Busters get through with that mansion, it’ll look like a totally different place,” George said.

“On the outside,” Bess groaned under her breath.

What had happened at Roland’s was still pretty fresh in my mind—but the thought of having a whole Malachite mansion to ourselves, I had to admit, was pretty sweet.

“It could be fun,” I said with a shrug. “Think of all that awesome food Stacey is promising us.”

“Okay, but what about that strange thumping noise we heard the other day?” Bess said. “How would you like to hear
that
in the middle of the night?”

“The construction work caused that noise,” I
said, still hoping it was true. “We figured that out, remember?”

“Getting out of Stacey’s hair is a good idea,” George said. “My mom is a raging lunatic right before one of her events. Can you imagine how nuts Stacey gets right before a party?”

The three of us glanced at Stacey pacing back and forth while shouting on her phone.

“Come to think of it,” Bess said with a smile, “maybe we’d
better
move into that mansion.”

“Yes!” said George. She slapped Bess playfully on the back, almost knocking her off the deck.