Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 02 - Brilliant Actors
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Authors: Alex Ames
Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Jewelry Creator - Cat Burglar - Hollywood
| Alex Ames - Calendar Moonstone 02 - Brilliant Actors | |
| Calendar Moonstone [2] | |
| Alex Ames | |
| Alex Ames (2014) | |
| Tags: | Mystery: Cozy - Jewelry Creator - Cat Burglar - Hollywood |
All of the above, plus spending the rest of the night in jail! Acclaimed jewelry maker and part-time cat burglar Calendar Moonstone finds a stolen necklace in her purse, an enigmatic, unemployed actor with a cheesy name working against her, full-time insurance nemesis Fowler Wynn hard on her trail, and an intriguing chief of police asking for a date. The only catch is she has just thirty days to clear her name or go to jail—permanently.
With the help of her trusted friend Mundy Millar, good ties in the movie business, and her uncle Bernie’s biker gang, Calendar sets out to make sure that the right person is caught and her own name cleared—even if it means she has to cut some corners, pick some locks, and break some hearts—Calendar style.
Brilliant Actors
A Calendar Moonstone Novel
Alex Ames
Copyright © 2014 Alex Ames
1
st
Edition
Cover Graphic Elements: © Leysan - Fotolia.com
Chapter Diamond Cut:
© nkuchumova - Fotolia.com
Contact: [email protected]
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Once more for the Princess
CHAPTER ONE
Oscar Night
What can be more exciting? I, Calendar Moonstone, acclaimed jewelry maker and occasional cat burglar, attended the movie awards ceremony and sat in the third row at the side of mega movie star Nicole Berg. I went to the coolest after-show party in Beverly Hills and shook hands with many more stars.
Could you possibly top that? What could be even more exciting? Well, take all of the above and spend the rest of the night in jail, girl!
It was an interesting twist of fate that allowed me to be part of a very special crowd of a very special event. Movie star Nicole Berg had been in a last minute ‘what-jewlery-do-I-wear’-situation, something I could fix for her from my current high end collection. Additionally she had run into a ‘my-arrogant-artist-boyfriend-ran-away-and-left-me-without-an-Oscar-Night-date’-situation, something I could also fix for her—as I had no other plans that night than to crash on my best friend’s Mundy’s couch and watch the Oscar’s on the tube. So I went to the Oscar’s with Nicole and then with her to the coolest after-show party. The event was hosted by none other than screen legend Swan Collins in her vast mansion in Beverly Hills. Up to now, the evening had been a dizzying rush of spotlights, red carpets, large limousines, and beautiful, famous people—and lots of very expensive jewelry, lots and lots and lots of it. Holy temptation! To score here, a cat burglar just wouldn’t cut it. A tiger burglar would be more appropriate—or a whole pack of them.
I am a designer of jewelry, so I can tell good from bad. And tonight’s event displayed the better pieces of my profession and around Nicole Berg’s neck the very best—mine. My works are admired by critics, rich people, and royalty around the world, tonight all rolled into one.
While I roamed the party grounds, I found myself constantly checking my reflection in every mirror I passed. Not that I had a complex about my face or body, but this dense collection of beautiful, perfect people made me nervous. My boobs were probably the smallest among the party crowd, when you don’t count in child actress Sarah Kapersky, who was 12 years old—and I tell you, she came close already. And my hairdo of combed-back shoulder-length blonde hair—the never-in-any-kind-of-poetry-blonde-hair—had the lowest price tag of all females at the party, way under 250 dollars. I wore my standard black Armani outfit with flat-soled shoes to make me look cuter in my five-foot-six, all-American surfer girl frame.
Stop checking yourself, Calendar girl
, I chastised myself.
Enjoy the evening!
I sipped my daiquiri and moved carefully through the crowd that packed the mansion in the hills overlooking LA—and what a mansion it was! The hall covered three levels and was crowned with a gigantic crystal chandelier that was so big that you could touch the crystal pieces by stretching your hand when you were at the top-level walkway. The rooms were too many to count, all designed with the best money could buy.
I was looking for my companion who had made it all possible for me, but I hadn’t seen Nicole for about an hour. This was perfectly possible because the house had a football field-sized garden, dozens of rooms, ten bathrooms, and probably one thousand guests.
It was already long past midnight, but the party showed no signs of tiring. Five of tonight’s Oscar winners were among the party guests, and each and every one of the stars had come with a large and loud pre-fueled entourage. The sound level was almost ear-splitting with roaring laughter, shouted conversations, and pumping rap music, as tonight’s Grand Slam had gone to
Valley of Sound
, the five-hundred-million dollar grossing—domestic only—LA rap ghetto drama. It won best movie, best direction, best male lead, and best original soundtrack.
Finally, I spotted my companion. Nicole was standing in the center of a small circle of people and was having an animated conversation with another well-known actress. You could identify the real stars of Hollywood just by looking for the magnetic fields in the room and the way the other people gravitated toward them. Nicole was no exception. She was one of the few Hollywood leading ladies who had hit the magic twenty-million dollars per movie mark and had proven in some very good films that she was worth every penny. The last two movies hadn’t been great choices, everyone agreed, but she still pulled an audience, and the next big sure-fire blockbuster was in production. Nicole wore Versace in liquid silver, exclusively cut by Donatella herself, and the dress underlined every ounce of stardom that radiated from her spirit and body. The shoes were Hummel’s, and her three-hundred-thousand-dollar beautiful diamond/gold combination necklace was crafted by yours truly, Calendar Moonstone design. One of my most beautiful pieces around the neck of one of the world’s most beautiful women. This was the way good jewelry should be worn. It wasn’t the most expensive piece in the room, not by far, but it was the most beautiful—by far.
“A beautiful necklace, don’t you think?” murmured a male voice behind me as if to echo my thoughts. It was a husky, gentle voice. It was filled with a wondering awe that kept my eyes on Nicole’s neck as I tried to see it as he would. “A truly perfect accessory for a perfect lady,” the voice continued.
Without turning around and facing my new companion, I said, “Do you understand anything about jewelry?”
“I recognize beauty when I see it. Otherwise, unfortunately, no,” the unknown man said. “What about you?”
“I recognize a lame attempt when I see it, but I am drunk enough to endure it.”
Nicole seemed to be in the process of finishing her conversation, and she started nodding more often, her eyes already leaving her companion.
“Would you like an introduction to Nicole?” the voice asked me, still from behind.
“That’s the best you have to offer? An introduction to Nicole Berg?” Before I was able to turn around to face my invisible gentleman-caller, Nicole spotted me. Her eyes started to sparkle, and she made a beeline for me, the crowd mysteriously parting as she glided, with another woman in tow.
“Calendar Moonstone, please meet Sandra Mueller. I bet you know her.” Well, not personally, but from about eight seasons of
Kitchen Party
on Wednesday night prime time, sure. Sandra Mueller crowded in on me, and we exchanged hellos. She marveled about Nicole’s necklace and asked if I could make her one, too—not the same but similar, maybe a little bit more spectacular, and of course more expensive. Nicole had brought me potential customers twice already this evening, and my client base for jewelry in the six-figure range had been increased dramatically with tonight’s recommendations.
After Sandra had let go of me, Nicole gave me a conspiratorial wink and vanished again in the crowd. The remaining onlookers dispersed quickly due to the lack of stardom gravity, and I found myself alone again. Well, not completely.
“So, you do know something about jewelry,” my product’s admirer said from behind my back.
I quickly turned around and found myself looking at a very handsome young man in his late twenties, black curly hair, killer bronze complexion that spelled “actor,” and an impeccable, trendy, dark gray Italian suit. The biggest surprise of all wasn’t the fact that he was so good-looking, that he was a fan of my jewelry, or that he was flirting with me—no, the strange coincidence was that this guy was working in the dial-a-pizza opposite my store.