Shannon Muir's The Pulp and Mystery Shelf: The Omnibus

By Shannon Muir

This omnibus brings together two previously published collections, SHORTS FROM THE SHELF and INFINITE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF collections.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannon Muir
• Release date: Mar 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224516483

Shannon Muir

SHANNON MUIR's short stories include suspense and mystery elements such as those found in her first full-length story from Pro Se Press, CHARLES BOECKMAN PRESENTS DOC AND SALLY IN "THE DEATH OF BUDDY TURNER". Additionally, she's written short stories for Pro Se Press such as “Tragic Like a Torch Song” in THE DAME DID IT from Pro Se Press, "Pretty as a Picture" in the anthology NEWSHOUNDS, “Tropical Terror” in CRIME DOWN ISLAND and “Hidden History” in EXPLORER PULP. She’s also written the Single Shot New Pulp tale “Ghost of the Airwaves,” a short story offered in electronic format only from Pro Se Press.From her personal self-published projects, her best known titles in this area include the rural crime series THE WILLOWBROOK SAGA.In other genres, Shannon's published short stories include “Meeting the Monster” in the Emby Press anthology SUPERHERO MONSTER HUNTER: THE GOOD FIGHT and "Cover Story" in ARIA KALSAN: MYSTERIES OF THE FUTURE.Shannon holds a BA in Radio-TV and English from Eastern Washington University in Cheney, Washington, which she considers to be her hometown. She also holds an MA in Communications from California State University, Fullerton, along with additional education in screenwriting, project management, library technician studies, and most recently a certificate earned with distinction in General Business with Emphasis in Marketing from UCLA Extension. Currently, she is working on a Masters of Library and Information Science at San Jose State University.She is married to FLYING GLORY AND THE HOUNDS OF GLORY collaborator and fellow author Kevin Paul Shaw Broden. They live in California in the United States.She is a member of Sisters in Crime (national, Guppies, and Los Angeles, where she also served on the Los Angeles board for a two terms beginning in 2018), as well as the Toastmasters4Writers Chapter of Toastmasters International (where she serves as chapter Secretary), Women in Animation, and a Professional member of ASIFA-Hollywood.

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COPYRIGHT

SHANNON MUIR’S THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF: THE OMNIBUS

Written by Shannon Muir

Smashwords Edition

Collection Copyright 2024 Shannon Muir.

First Smashwords publication of Omnibus March 2024.

Collects published stories from the following books:

SHANNON MUIR’S THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF: THE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION (2021)

SHANNON MUIR’S THE PULP ANY MYSTERY SHELF: THE INFINITE SHORTS COLLECTION (2022

)

All rights reserved.

This ebook is for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be given away or resold to others. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy from Smashwords or a vendor partner. If you want to share this work with others please purchase a copy for each person. Thank you for respecting the hard work of artists and creators.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

TABLE OF CONTENTS

AUTHOR’S NOTE FOR THE OMNIBUS

PART ONE: THE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION

AUTHOR’S NOTE FROM THE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION

HOMETOWN HERO

DEADLY BEAUTY

BEYOND THE SHINING STARS

CONFESSIONS

TABLOID TWIST

DYING WITH HER NAME IN LIGHTS

BLACKE AND NU BEGINNINGS

SCALE OF JUSTICE

CRIME BEFORE THE FALL

THE GREATER CRIME

STREET OF SHATTERED DREAMS

FIRST DEADLY HOLLYWOOD BREAK

THE PRICE OF LOVE

HAUNTED BY DREAMER SHORES

GIVE ME ANOTHER LACHANCE

THE MYSTERY OF THE PHOENIX

DOONAH CROSS ME

SHINING A LIGHT ON CRIME

ETERNAL ENCORE

THE AZURINE SONGBOOK

PART TWO: THE INFINITE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION

AUTHOR’S NOTE FOR INFINITE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF

REFLECTIONS IN THE UNIVERSE POOL

BREAKING THE PATTERN

THE PATTERNS OF LIFE

LOST SOULS

DYING DAYS

RUNAWAY FROM THE RUNWAY

NOT FORSAKEN

ALTERNATE REFLECTIONS

THE SMELL OF MUSK

FOR ALL I HOLD DEAR

ALWAYS HOLDING YOU DEAR

FAYTHE REBORN

GIRLS ON FILM

CHILDHOOD DREAMS

INSPIRED BY THE SILVER SCREEN

CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

IN THE PHOENIX’S SHADOW

DON’T MAKE ME REGRET THIS

FATHER’S GIFT

TRIGGERS

A SECOND LACHANCE

SUMMER’S END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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AUTHOR’S NOTE FOR THE OMNIBUS

I am pleased to present this omnibus bringing together my two short story and poetry collections under my THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF banner. Thank you to everyone that encouraged me and continues to encourage me.

Shannon Muir

March 2024

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PART ONE: THE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION

AUTHOR’S NOTE FROM THE SHORTS FROM THE SHELF COLLECTION

Some of the short stories from SHORTS FROM THE SHELF appeared in collections solely of short stories. Others appeared alongside reprints of blogs with added analysis, or in books with additional commentary. This collection brings together all the stories that appeared under the SHORTS FROM THE SHELF into one collection containing just the fiction. The short stories range from being written in 2017 to 202, beginning with the full stories from DYING WITH HER NAME IN LIGHTS in order, followed by short stories previously bundled with the commentaries, to all stories in ETERNAL ENCORE AND OTHER MYSTERIES OF THE HEART including The Azurine Songbook. I hope you enjoy it.

Shannon Muir

Glendale, California

March 2021

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HOMETOWN HERO

So what'll it be tonight? Ada Browne asked the dirty, unkempt stranger in front of her. Ada knew the owner and manager of the struggling diner would want this fellow's rear tossed out of the diner immediately. Even with the greasy scent lingering everywhere that permeated clothes and hair so that any visitor left smelling like the joint, the manager and owner insisted on a definite need to keep things classy. They struggled to do anything possible to keep the customers, who were going off to newer restaurants opening in the area, forgetting about the first restaurant in town that just celebrated a milestone anniversary. At least that was the story management told.

Ada, however, was no dummy. Times were tough, and less people could afford the luxury of eating at their restaurant. Less customers meant the prices went up to compensate, bringing in even less of a crowd. Sometimes, those that came to get a bite to eat or even just a cup of coffee came because they had nowhere else to go. Ada sensed this gentleman now at the serving bar to be one of those types. She possessed a keen eye for people in need, and also for people out of place. This gentleman looked like both.

Please, can you help me? he whispered to her with an accent that sounded slightly French. Even if it is just an order someone sends back that you would just have to throw away. Anything at all.

Ada looked around nervously. She knew she couldn't do something so obvious.

Go out back and I'll meet you soon, she whispered. I know what we've made too much of today. Let me get you a little of some of those things, it won't be missed. I'll get in so much trouble from the owner if I'm found out.

He nodded his head and disappeared.

With traffic in the restaurant slow, Ada took her break and then went in and grabbed a little extra of the various pre-prepared sides. The owner and manager might not notice these. It just hurt her to see someone in need. She'd even pay for it out of her tips if she needed to.

As Ada approached the back door, she heard sounds she didn't expect to, sounds of a fight.

Give me your money, old man!

I'm telling you, I don't have any! protested the French voice she'd heard earlier.

Ada immediately put the phone down and called the police. Being a small town, they came pretty quickly, but the attacker got away. However, he left evidence that would help catch him a next time. They interviewed Ada, and she volunteered most of the truth of what she'd done. If it came out what she'd told the man, she'd fess up, but she didn't want to rock the boat unnecessarily.

As the police left the restaurant, Ada thought she'd finally be able to go home and return to her normal life. Just as she turned to go back inside, she found herself face to face with an eager local reporter, notebook open and writing implement at the ready.

I can't believe it! the local reporter told her. You saved noted food critic Basile Fournier!

Wait, what? Ada told the reporter, stunned. I thought he was just a homeless man in need of something to eat. And I'm a good judge of character.

The reporter scoffed.

Hardly! He was going undercover to sample local diners in the area for a feature on great comfort food and didn't want to be recognized. He also took on the appearance to get a feel for the charitableness and kindness of each local place. Sources now say that he'd intended to give back to the diner that impressed him with the most heart and help them update and renovate. However, his misleading appearance led those people to think they could beat him up for money. If you hadn't appeared at just the right time behind the diner, he could have been killed.

Ada didn't dare tell the reporter the food critic had been there because she'd asked him to be since the manager would never have allowed a free meal. She also remained well aware of the fact the reporter didn't know that also made it seem that the critic remembered her saying she'd be in trouble if the boss found out. Knowing that there could be real help to save the nearly bankrupt diner thanks to her actions, she wouldn't say a thing now. Despite the owner's disapproval of such actions, she knew he'd never turn this kind of help away. She'd also become surprised at herself, for not seeing past the disguise. Then again, she didn't follow food critics or the world of food celebrities. Ada was just a good-hearted, hometown diner waitress.

Just as sure as her gut told her, when everything came out, the noted food critic praised the diner and especially Ada. For her actions, the diner was rewarded with a full makeover that became covered in a special event for a major food network. The little diner, along with the quaint little town it was part of, became known nationally and internationally and brought more tourists to the area.

One night, several months later, Ada Browne walked home from work as she always did. She felt safe on her streets, because she'd grown up on them all her life, totally forgetting about the incident that brought the celebrity status and the fact the attacker got away; another incident hadn't occurred since. She'd head home to her husband and children and enjoy the meal they had waiting for her after her hard day at work. Despite all the attention she'd gotten, Ada determined not to let this newfound fame change her.

She wasn't prepared to have someone jump from the shadows, someone she didn't recognize but who clearly recognized her from the media, demanding all the money she must have now for her celebrity status. He didn't understand as she tried to calmly explain she'd never taken a dime for anything; she'd wanted it all invested back in the diner and the town she loved.

Words weren't good enough payment.

Not all that long ago, the headlines about Ada Browne read about her generosity and everyone was pleased she saved a life. Now, they wrote of her tragic death as a woman best known for her appearance on a national network food program, with little emphasis on the loving, caring person she'd always been.

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DEADLY BEAUTY

Sheila Dawson's mother raised her since youth to be part of the beauty queen circuit, and later got her into modeling under the name of Sheila D. Wanting to know a taste of what normal people did, she ran away from home for a while at eighteen to decide what she wanted to do with her life. Ultimately she returned to the modeling profession and mentored a young woman she'd met while a runaway named Tabbi who now worked as a plus size model. When they met, Tabbi Foxx felt very insecure with her looks and herself though projected an aura that she did not. Tabbi bolstered this false front with the help of two friends, one who proved a master of trash talk and putdowns to hide her insecurities. That friend also turned out to join them in modeling but kept that trash talking persona. Her stage name was Lalana, bringing a more exotic sound by mixing up her name of Allana Jones. Together the trio thought they were smart and on their toes enough to make it... but in the end, one of them would plunge off the runway permanently. I know this because I stood back and watched it happen; it's just unfortunate that things didn't go as planned and the wrong one died.

Which then leads to the question of who I am, I suppose. My name's Mirabel. I used to hang out with Tabbi and Allana, and our other friend Noni. Noni moved away not long after that, which made Allana all the clingier to her new friend Sheila D. She always annoyed me. That's why when I saw Allana succeeding with Tabbi as Lalana, I wanted nothing more than to see her dead. After all, that should have been me. See, Tabbi and I both had been trying to use online dating to meet guys. I met one first I thought was really into me, and I wanted him to take it slow; he didn't, and not only gave me diseases but my first little boy. I needed to focus being on a mom, so I hung out less with Tabbi and the others. As I watched them network with Sheila D and becoming rising model stars, I decided that I'd lost enough weight after my son and could try to compete. So I sought out an agent who promised he could help me and he did; the lowlife taught me the art of the casting couch, and became the father of my second son. Fortunately, I left before he could try to market me out to things less classy than maternity catalogs, which appeared to be his real trade.

This brings us to the fateful night, when they came to the charity fashion show benefit where I happened to be working. Now pregnant with a daughter after leaving an abusive boyfriend, I ended up working with a domestic violence cause, who helped me move to another town where they ran a center on a community college campus. My sons are in foster care until I make enough money for them to live with me again, my daughter will be destined for the same. It's a far cry from the comfortable lives I see my former friends living with their new companion who brought them this new life. Sometimes I resent they ever met Sheila D.

I knew who the scheduled models were that would be coming to town for weeks. From the minute I saw her name on the list, I knew this would be my chance for getting even. I'd grown up with those girls and they didn't deserve to have a better life than I did. They needed to understand hurt and pain as well.

From my modeling agent, I'd learned about ways to drug people so they didn't know. He'd done it to take advantage of my body. However, it motivated me to do more research and find more secretive and deadly ways to get intended results.

Prepared with the deadly concoction to slip into her drink, I got everything ready and approached her.

Here's something to refresh you, before you go on stage, Sheila D.

Sheila D was the real celebrity of the bunch, the biggest star. I figured she'd think nothing of being given a little extra attention, and I was right. She took the glass from me without question. My bosses called me away just before I could see her drink it, but I felt confident, all would be set right.

The lights went down and the presentation began. Sheila D's end would happen backstage, and I'd never have to see the woman who destroyed any chance of getting back with my friends, as well as destroyed my life, walk the runway before my eyes.

First up, said the announcer, this season's new plus size fashions! Please welcome Tabbi Foxx.

Tabbi Foxx, my longest and dearest friend, started her way down the runway. I never made as much fun of her as Allana and Noni did. I tried very hard to encourage her to look within and find her own beauty, but now we'd all been used and destroyed by the culture of beauty from without.

I saw Tabbi's steps became less graceful, and she started to wobble. The whole thing moved in slow motion to my eyes, as she collapsed and fell off the stage.

She's dead! someone nearby exclaimed.

I wanted to run, and knew I probably should. Yet, this was Tabbi, my best friend on the ground. I'd expected the end of Sheila D. I needed to know what happened, and if Sheila D would also be found dead backstage. Then there might be two murders haunting me, but seeing Tabbi dead on the floor already served to be punishment enough.

To my horror, Sheila D emerged amidst the commotion.

Oh dear, Sheila D exclaimed. Someone was so kind to offer me a drink and I just took it. Then I saw how nervous Tabbi was, so I gave it to her instead. Was this horrible drink meant for me?

Sheila D figured it out. I knew I had to run before she recognized me. I've been running ever since. I learned a lot from the domestic violence non-profit on how to go into hiding. Now I'm just wondering when anyone will find me.

The one thing I haven't been able to run away from is the image of my closest friend Tabbi Foxx, on the floor, dead – looking more beautiful inside and out than I'd ever seen her.

# # #

BEYOND THE SHINING STARS

How can I help you, Mr. Mallory-Tate?

Sam Hawkins saw a lot of people on the other side of his private investigation desk over the years. He’d started out a cop, but decided he needed to be able to work more of his own life and hours after his wife Anne died and Sam needed to raise his daughter Carly alone. So, he took his skills and became a private investigator, relying on his parents to help out until Carly’s teenage years. He never looked back.

Randy Mallory-Tate wasn’t much over the age of eighteen, third generation of a famous actor family. His parents, the only son of a 1940s-film star and the porn star-turned-nurse who cared for his grandfather in his final days, both ran a charity to get young girls off the street sucked in by the dark side of Hollywood. After their recent death while on a boating trip, Randy Mallory-Tate found himself thrust into managing the charity as well as their living trust.

I’ve got a big issue to deal with, and I need your help.

Honestly, from my perspective, you have many things going on in your life right now. Not sure how a private investigator can help.

Somebody’s stalking me, Randy told Sam. He could see the kid’s arms shaking. Clearly, whatever was going on wasn’t child’s play. The young man genuinely feared the current events in his life. I never minded getting all the attention when my parents were alive, heck it was kind of fun. Now, things are different. Everyone thought they could get through me to for my parents’ money. Now, to them, I have all the money. But you and Aunt Lauren know that’s not true!

Then there was that fact Randy Mallory-Tate also happened to be the nephew of his current wife, Lauren Granville Hawkins. He’d met Lauren while on a case, where she’d been a journalist. Her father – and Randy’s grandfather – reached out to Sam shortly before he died because he feared for his life; it turned out the fears were justified as he died not long after. Lauren turned out to be an illegitimate daughter the elderly actor had with a small-time actress in the 1940s whom he ended up not marrying. Together, Sam and Lauren found the true killer and Randy’s father ended up taking her as family, with them being an uncle and aunt in Randy’s life.

What makes this different than other people who want to contact you?

Most of them are just women, he says. They send texts and videos to me, showing their bodies off or talking sexy. It’s so stupid because of everything my parents stand for, and the charity I’m now part of. I don’t believe in exploiting women. I don’t. I don’t’ believe in exploiting anyone.

Still. What’s different here, Randy?

The person giving me trouble, it’s a guy.

This immediately got Sam’s interest.

Have you dealt with anything like this before?

Randy looked away. Sam didn’t know what to make of it.

You’ve dealt with other stalkers before now?

Randy shook his head in the negative, but didn’t look up. That could only mean one other thing.

Who else knows you’re gay? Sam said, not forcing Randy to go first. He and Lauren certainly didn’t know. He didn’t know if Randy’s parents knew. Yet, from Randy’s body language, that appeared to be the conclusion.

I have someone in my life, Randy admitted. You don’t see us much together because it would be harder than this person on me for us to be both in public right now.  The person I care about makes a living as a well-known drag artist – drag queen might be more what you’d say. We both live lives under the spotlight. So, as far as our relationship goes, we need to both work on announcing this slowly and carefully.

Sam relaxed. He knew there would be questions that needed answering, but didn’t want Randy to feel interrogated. Sam also saw an opportunity to really get to know this nephew of his wife’s who, as far as Sam was concerned, was part of his as well.

How did you meet?

We’re both in the biz, so it’s not hard. It was at one of my parents’ charity functions. We were simply introduced. At first, I confess I wasn’t up on everything. I thought the person I was introduced to was a woman in all ways. Then I saw the performance on stage she gave during the event and she had me completely mesmerized.

Sam stopped a moment.

You said she.

When in character, I’m to refer to this person in my life as she. But when we’re just being us, it’s male to male.

I see, Sam said, hoping a hint of compassion showed through. I see you’re trying hard not to tell me who this person is.

I’m afraid if I slip somewhere and the wrong person overhears, this person’s life could be in danger. Everyone knows who she is, of course, being in the spotlight. But the public doesn’t know much about the private life of this drag artist. His anonymity is part of what makes this relationship possible and challenging at the same time.

So how does the person giving you trouble tie in to this?

Whoever this guy is, he keeps going through various phones to contact me. Either burner phones or he’s spoofing the number.

Randy might be an actor, but also smart as a whip about tech. Sam understood what Randy meant from an investigative side of things, even if he didn’t understand how some of those processes worked. His daughter Carly, now part of the police force, probably had a far better clue.

It he trying to hit on you? Does he know your interests?

Yes. I’ve been as discreet as I can but apparently that’s impossible. What’s worse, he knows about my involvement with her. I’ve been told to break it off with her and be in a relationship with him, or he promises to expose all of her to the world.

Sorry to interrupt. You keep saying her again here.

The guy contacting me always uses the drag artist name referring to the person I’m in the relationship with. By ‘expose all of her’ I can only presume he means to tell the whole world about her birth name and her full past.

I’m guessing it’s a rough history. You seem to really want to protect that information.

You have a daughter, right? And Aunt Lauren? Wouldn’t you do anything to protect them?

Randy had a point.

I totally understand, Sam reassured Randy. But right now, I’ve got to be upfront with you. Without knowing more about the very things you don’t want to reveal, it puts limits on how I can help.

Randy slumped back in his chair.

I wish I could share them with you, Uncle. I really wish I could.

And until you can, my hands are pretty tied, Randy.

Sam went home to his wife Lauren that night feeling rather guilty. Not only was he unable to help Randy, he’d come to Sam looking for the confidentiality any client would expect, so Sam couldn’t talk to her about her nephew in any way.

He walked in to find Lauren glued to the television. Given her print journalism background, that wasn’t like her. Sam immediately went to check what was up. He found Lauren watching a news story with the headline splashed across the bottom of the screen: FAMOUS DRAG QUEEN KILLED IN HOME BREAK-IN.

What’s going on? Sam prodded Lauren, feeling in his gut this tied in to what Randy came to him about.

It’s that performer that was at my brother’s charity event. Someone broke into the house with that person home at the time and ended up murdered. They caught the people behind the break-in, but now everyone’s debating if it’s a hate crime or not. I feel for the person’s family and everyone they loved. It must be so heartbreaking.

Sam prayed that Randy would come back to him, and fast, to confirm or deny if the person in the news would be the same person they discussed today. If so, Sam would be more than ready to pool all his resources to help. No one messes with his family or anyone they love.

Over time, the news reported on the background of the suspects that broke into the home. Neither of them fit the profile of what Randy described to Sam. Sam considered that perhaps the people now in custody had been hired by the person giving Randy trouble. That thought made him consider that in turn, perhaps that person could be working for higher-up people.

No telling how much trouble Randy might actually be in. However, Sam determined not to involve Lauren if Randy hadn’t desired it. However, he knew for his own piece of mind he’d need to reach out to Randy again, if for no other reason to make sure he was ok. Sam may have married into this family, but when he vowed his love to Lauren, he’d promised to take care of any member of it.

Sam knew where Randy lived, and checked in on his place. From how things looked, Randy didn’t seem to have been around for days. He didn’t know if the young man went into hiding or already ran into issues. The next logical place Randy might be would be with his parents, but going there might tip off Lauren something bigger was going on and he hadn’t entrusted his own wife with it.

The seasoned private investigator debated what to do next.

[part 7]

At last, he did decide to drop in at the Tate estate without calling first. If Randy hid there, he didn't want to tip anyone off and let their son get away. The security there knew him very well, so Sam didn't fear getting run off.

Sam pulled up to the estate gate and rolled down his window. He did not recognize the young man on duty.

Sam Hawkins here. I need to see Randolph urgently.

I'm sorry, sir. No one is available right now.

Sam noted the choice of words.

When will someone be available? It's urgent.

I don't know, sir. Now I suggest you leave.

Sam leaned out the window, hoping this would convey the urgency to the young security guard.

Listen, please call the emergency line. It's about Randy!

Sam just barely registered the hit to his head before he drifted into darkness.

Later, Sam felt his head throb as he slowly came to. Bad of him to let his guard down. He realized and regretted that he should have become more on his guard the moment he didn’t recognize the security guard. However, in his concern for family, Sam let his guard down, and paid a cost he hadn’t suffered for some time for a mistake worthy of a rookie.

The place looked like one of those bad movie sets where people are taken and tied to chairs under a single, large solitary light to make them squeal. Maybe a few boxes off to one side, but usually in a room devoid of anything else. The captive would then be roughed up by a few people looking for information, usually the goons of some bigger player.

Sure enough, as he struggled with his hands, Sam realized that he was, indeed, tied to a chair. Whoever did it sure knew their knots, as there wasn’t much room to move. He hoped that his motions hadn’t made things worse.

He squinted to try and make out the walls around him, to get some hints of where he might be. Farther in the distance, he could make out the shapes of other objects.

The kind of objects you’d find for equipment on a movie or television set.

Two male figures stepped into what Sam realized to be stage lighting surrounding the light hanging over his head. Though their body builds made them look rough and tough, Sam soon realized in interacting with them these goons didn’t have it all together.

You need to tell us what you know, one said, pounding a fist into his other hand, and immediately responding in pain. Clearly he wasn’t experienced at this sort of thing, perhaps just simply a bad actor.

The other one, face partially obscured by a cap, shook his fist into Sam’s face. He spoke slowly and in a condescending tone, as if he thought Sam could not understand him.

You heard him! Tell us what you know.

It would certainly help if I knew what information you were after, Sam said, trying his best not to sound snarky. I know a great deal about many things. The question is what do I know that might be useful to you.

Then, a more familiar figure slinked into the light. This much more boyish figure belonged to the young security guard he’d seen at the gate.

There’s only one thing you could know that would interest me, the young man said. Tell me where I can find my Randy.

Sam struggled to figure out how to best handle this. If he insisted he didn't know where Randy was - although it was the truth - who knew what he'd be in for. However, if he could slowly string the guy on a bit, perhaps Sam could figure out his obsession with Randy and perhaps buy some time to escape.

Hey boss, the goon not nursing his hand said. Stopped me just before I could make him talk.

He thumbed a finger at his still-in-pain companion.

Get this bumbler out of here and I will find out what you need to know.

The young man in the security guard outfit sighed.

You have five minutes

Then he beckoned for the whimpering goon to follow him, and the two left the room. The remaining goon made eye contact with Sam.

Maybe the stage lights played tricks on him, but the eyes staring back at him appeared to be Randy's.

Before Sam could say a word, the goon put his fingers to his lips in a quieting  motion. Then, he struggled to undo the knots tying Sam to the chair. Soon, Sam could feel the ropes fall free.

Follow me, came a gruff sounding whisper.

Sam went along as he could hear footsteps returning, and would rather take his chances with the goon who just rescued him.

After the two of them ran some distance, the goon ducked into a storage room and Sam followed. There, he saw the goon take off a now clearly padded jacket and remove his cap.

I know I've got a lot to explain to you, Uncle, Randy said. But right now, follow me.

Following Randy, Sam finally made it outside and found he'd been in a movie studio building on some ranch lot presumably in Ventura County. The two of them made it to an area where Randy had hidden his car. Randy gave him the keys.

Better you driving then me right now, Randy said.

But where will we go?

Anywhere but here.

Once they started driving, Sam began asking questions.

Who is this guy after you?

A studio security guard. He works at the same facility where my parents’ production company is. And of course I visit all the time.

So now you want to figure out how he ties in to the folks who killed the person you care about.

But that's the thing, Sam. She's not dead.

What? That doesn't make sense, Randy.

She came home to find the place being robbed. One of the goons - the one I am pretending to be - decided to put some of her clothes on. I don’t know why, she thinks maybe it was to joke about her. But she wasn’t about to find out. Once she found him in the house and they started to struggle, she shot him dead in self-defense. Then she worked with police to leak the story she died hoping to smoke the criminals out.

Huh. How do you figure into all this?

She told me what was going on, but asked me not to interfere. Don’t think I’m going to let this pass though. I used my theater training and I've been posing as that idiot to figure things out as long as I could. Everyone there believes I- that goon - shot her dead and ran. No one knows I'm doing this, not even her or the police. But given the cops know the goon is dead, I knew the ruse could only last so long. So your timing was good.

Why was the guard at your parents’ house?

They'd come looking for me but no one was home. You caught him after they'd knocked out the guard and tried to get in. I'm the one who knocked you out for your own good, and for us to reunite. I'm sorry.

Sam realized they were coming closer to the city.

You got a plan to catch this guy?

I have an idea, Uncle, but I think I will need your help.

You got it, Randy. Tell me what you are thinking.

Sam returned to the area where Randy asked him to meet up. He’d dropped Randy off while headed to get some needed supplies. One of the items Randy requested was a burner phone, which he handed to Randy.

Randy started to dial a number on the burner phone Sam obtained for him. They actually came back not too far from the studio area where they knew the guy was headquarters. In case he had equipment to trace GPS, they would find them nearby, which was all well and good as far as they were concerned.

Given their target didn’t know the number, there wasn’t any guarantee they’d get an answer, but right now it was their best option. Randy kept the volume up as loud as he could so that Sam could hopefully overhear parts of the conversation.

Surprisingly, they got an answer.

We don’t want any! he said.

Wait! Randy replied, changing his voice to sound very close to his friend’s when dressed in drag. I’m calling to help you get Randy Tate.

What? But my guys, they got you.

Even if he couldn’t have heard all the words, Sam could tell by Randy’s facial reaction they’d gotten a bite on this.

Do you believe everything you’re told? This town’s all about illusion. You know one of your men seemed off lately, well, he was. It was me, disguised as him. He decided to pretend to be me and ended up dead. I decided to pretend to be him so I could find you and discover why you wanted me so bad. Now, if you could just come meet me by the closed down props warehouse just down the road from you, I’m willing to tell you all you need.

Why should I trust you? was what Sam thought he heard said on the other end.

Because, who else can you trust now? And if you don’t, I can go to the cops and tell everything, including where to find you. So why don’t I just see you at the props warehouse in a hour?

Randy hung up. Sam looked at him, concerned.

He’s still got one goon shadowing him, Randy. You know he’ll bring that backup as insurance.

The burner phone wasn’t the only thing I needed your help for, Uncle. I need you to have my back, to help take that other fellow out of commission. He thinks it’s just me - well, her. Imagine his nasty surprise when he finds out that not only am I not her, but that we more than equally matched.

What about the person you care about? Aren’t you concerned about increasing the risk of danger?

"I’ve reached out and communicated. The cops