The Seasons of Sam Rock

By Ann Wilmer-Lasky

1940's Hollywood detective Sam Rock might survive Summer's lure, the last days of Autumn and winter's grave, but he will struggle to welcome spring. The Seasons of Sam Rock is a paranormal noir/horror novel with a wry sense of humor. In it, Sam must find Summer Banning's missing brother, solve Autumn Moran's vicious murder and discover who's buried in an unmarked grave freshly dug in the back corner of an unkempt cemetery come winter. Driving his black 1938 Chevy coupe and sporting his ever present fedora, Sam moves with ease between the swank parties and the seamy-side of the glamorous Hollywood façade. Throughout the novel, he is shadowed by a murder of ravens - their beaks and razor-sharp claws perhaps responsible for some of the bodies he encounters - and Madame Marie Delacroix, a raven-loving, redheaded French woman whose husbands tend to die mysteriously. She believes Sam has something that belongs to her - a little black book he just might have to die for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Wilmer-Lasky
• Release date: Jul 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476076201

Ann Wilmer-Lasky

The author is no stranger to the rugged landscapes and unstable ground described in The Chronicles of Acqueria novels, having spent time in the deserts of Arizona and now living in sunny, shaky southern California. Here she writes the YA sci-fi/fantasy series "The Chronicles of Acqueria" and soon-to-be published horror novels featuring the old west, 1940's Hollywood and a dark Medieval fantasy.

Book preview

The Seasons of Sam Rock

by Ann Wilmer-Lasky

Copyright 2012 Ann Wilmer-Lasky

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwoods.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to actual places, events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Seasons: A Haiku

Part One: Summer's Lure

Part Two: The Last Days of Autumn

Part Three: Winter's Grave

About the Author

Seasons: A Haiku

Autumn comes softly

Stealing Summer's life away

Preparing winter's grave

by Ann Wilmer-Lasky

Part One: Summer's Lure

Chapter 1

Melanie looked up as the leggy redhead walked through the outer office door. Sam’s not here, she said.

The redhead stopped in front of the desk. My name is Summer Banning. I have an appointment.

Nothing in his book, Melanie Michaels, Sam Rock’s straw-blonde secretary, said as she ran her index finger down the blank page of the appointment book in front of her.

He told me last night to meet him here at nine o’clock sharp, Summer said, seating herself on the couch next to the door. I’ll wait.

Melanie smiled. Make yourself comfortable, she said. Sam’s never in much before ten. Would you like a cup of coffee? Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the chrome-plated percolator and touched its shiny body. Ouch! she said, pulling her hand back and sticking a well- manicured finger in her mouth. I guess it’s hot. One lump or two?

Just cream. And lots of it. Where is he? He should be here by now. Summer tattooed the arm of the couch relentlessly with her fingers.

Drumming your fingers will not bring him any sooner, Melanie said as she placed the cup and saucer on the low, narrow table in front of the couch. What do you want with him anyway?

He promised to help me find my brother.

Melanie sat down on the overstuffed chair kitty-corner to the couch and table. Sam’s real good at that, she said. Finding people, that is. Where’d you meet him?

At a party for Louie B. last night. Sam introduced himself. Said he thought I looked kinda sad. Guess I had a tear in my eye.

Yeah, Sam’s a real sucker for a tear in the eye, Melanie said. Party for Louie B., huh?

Yes, at the Etheridges’ up on Mulholland. Real nice place.

Melanie laughed. Lots of booze, I suppose. We’ll be lucky to see Sam before noon. She returned to her desk and started sorting through the morning’s mail.

Near eleven, Sam Rock, a casually dressed, thirtyish man, his wavy brown hair covered by his usual gray felt fedora, walked through the outer door. He turned around, closed it and stood there for a moment, looking at the gold letters stenciled on the glass—Sam Rock, Private Detective. Looks just as good backwards, he said out loud.

Summer Banning set her cup down noisily on the saucer. Turning quickly, Sam lost his footing and almost toppled over. Catching himself on the back of a chair next to the desk, he recovered his balance and tipped his hat. Morning, ladies, he said.

Melanie looked up from the pile of envelopes on her desk. Good morning, Sam, she said. Miss Banning here says she has an appointment with you.

Sam’s lanky frame loomed over the slender redhead. He reached out clumsily and took her hand, smiled broadly and kissed it. Ah, yes, the beautiful, aspiring young actress I met amidst the flowing champagne and caviar up on the hill. What may I do for you, Miss Banning?

Melanie rolled her eyes and shook her head.

Summer withdrew her hand and placed it in her lap. You said you would help me find my brother. Don’t you remember?

The smile on Sam’s face turned to a blank stare, then quickly back to a smile. Yes, of course, he said. Your brother. The young man disappeared shortly after the two of you came to town, right?

Sam, Melanie interrupted, wouldn’t you like to continue this conversation in your private office?

Good idea. Sam backed away from the couch and reached out for his client. Shall we?

Smiling thinly, Summer Banning took his hand and rose to her full height. Six foot tall in her white patent, spike heels, she stood half a head taller than Sam.

Looking up at her, he edged backwards toward his private office. He banged his hip on the edge of Melanie’s desk but never lost his grip on Summer’s hand or his smile. Hold my calls, please, Miss Michaels.

Sure, Sam... uh... Mr. Rock.

Melanie heard Sam’s office door close. She switched off the intercom, locked the drawer to her desk and picked her purse up off the floor underneath. Guess I’ll be taking an early lunch, she said to herself. I’ll be back at one, she called out loudly over her shoulder as she pulled the outer office door closed.

Would you like some coffee? Sam asked as he positioned a green, upholstered chair in front of his desk. He patted the cushioned back, raising a small cloud of dust.

Thank you, Summer said through a muffled cough, but I’ve already had some... about an hour ago. Now, about my brother?

You sure looked good up there on the hill last night. Looked really chummy with Louie B., too.

I was hired to look good and to be friendly. What were you doing at that party last night, Mr. Rock? You know Louie B.? You just don’t seem like part of the inside crowd.

Oh, I fit in just fine, Miss Banning. I do a lot of work for the studios. I know just about everybody in Hollywood.

Then, why is your office all the way out here in Santa Monica? And, when will you talk to me about my brother, Jonathan? Perhaps you already know him—Jonathan Banning?

Never heard of him. Does he go under another name, a stage name, maybe?

He never had a chance to pick a new name. He just started making the rounds of the studios. We only got to Hollywood a few weeks before he disappeared.

How long has he been missing?

For about a month now.

Have you been to the cops?

Summer nodded. They said this happens all the time in Hollywood. They said not to worry, that he’d turn up eventually with some rich matron or old codger on his arm. They told me boys as pretty as my brother always turn up, one way or another.

Pretty? You got a picture of him? Sam asked as he sat on the edge of his desk and hovered over the redhead. She rummaged through her purse and withdrew a scallop-edged photo.

Here, she said. This was taken last fall. We were working the fair together.

Fair? Where are you from? Sam asked as he studied the photo carefully. Looks like the country or something.

Iowa. Des Moines, Iowa. It’s a county fair. We were a brother and sister act—country singers. You know, twangy guitar and everything. We came out here to take Hollywood by storm. I was gonna be the next Rita Hayworth and Jon was gonna be like Errol Flynn.

Sam Rock looked at the picture of brother and sister and then looked at Summer Banning and shook his head. Happens all the time, he said as he handed the picture back.

What happens? she asked as she placed it back in her purse.

Kids. Country kids, city kids. Kids and their delusions. The illusion of glamour, of celebrity. Hollywood, the Mecca of the movie world. Go west, go to Hollywood. Make your fortune. Become a star.

We are not kids, Summer protested. We are not delusional, and we both have a lot of talent.

Sam shook his head again. I’m sure you do. But Hollywood just eats your kind up and spits you out. Your brother is probably holed up with some buddies, all of them drunk and drugged out of their minds. He’ll be back when the money runs out and they sober up. Or, he’ll turn up at the morgue some dark and stormy night.

Mr. Rock, please! If you won’t help me, I’ll go elsewhere. Summer rose quickly, knocking her purse off her lap. The contents spilled out onto the shabby carpet. She stooped down to pick up her things, and Sam bent over to help.

I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, he said quietly. I only meant it won’t be easy. Sam picked up another scallop-edged photo. Who’s this? he asked.

Summer grabbed the photo from his hand and stuffed it back into her purse. He was my fiancé, she said as she snapped her purse shut and rose to her feet. She took a couple of shaky steps toward the door.

Whoa there, are you all right? Sam asked.

I’m fine, she said. I just haven’t eaten today. That coffee didn’t set well on my empty stomach.

Please, sit. I’ll have my secretary get you a sandwich. Sam flipped the switch for the intercom. Melanie... Melanie!"

Sam flipped the switch a couple more times then headed for the door.

He looked around the empty outer office. I guess she’s gone to lunch. Want to join me? There’s a great deli on the corner.

I... I have no money, Summer said.

It’s on me. Call it a business lunch. You can tell me where you last saw your brother. Jonathan, was it?

Summer smiled and let Sam escort her out of the office and down the hall to the elevator. She leaned against his shoulder as he put his arm gently around her waist.

Chapter 2

The outer office was unlocked and empty when Melanie returned at one o’clock. She put her purse back under the desk and carried a brown paper bag to Sam’s office door. She knocked.

Sam? Mr. Rock? she called out. Got a sandwich here. You can share it with Miss Banning. I’ll make more coffee. Melanie stood quietly in front of the door for a moment. Then, she knocked harder. Sam Rock, she called again.

Melanie rattled the doorknob and the door came open. She looked around Sam's empty private office, then closed the door and went back to her own desk.

Short day, I guess, she said as she picked up a letter opener and started to slit open the envelopes still piled on her desk. More bills, she sighed, and no paycheck again this week, I’ll wager.

Couple of corned beef sandwiches and a pot of coffee over here, Helen, Sam called out as he seated Summer Banning in a booth by the window of Schumann’s Deli on the corner of Fifteenth and Wilshire. He could see the front of his office building across the street.

Sure, Sam, the harried-looking, middle-aged woman said as she put two mugs and a coffee pot down on the table. She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and plucked an order pad from the pocket of her apron. Anything else?

No thanks, Sam said, then added quietly as Helen passed him on her way to the kitchen, Could you put it on my tab? She’s a client.

Helen Schumann looked at the pretty, young thing seated across from him. A paying client? she asked, whispering back.

She’s in trouble, Sam replied.

Helen shook her head. I’ll tell Bernie, she said. It’ll be fine.

Sam smiled and turned back to his client. Now, tell me all about it, he said as he patted her hand.

The last time I saw Jonathan was at our apartment. I came home from a round of auditions. I was exhausted. He asked me if I had any success. I told him I didn’t know, that a couple places said they’d call me. He laughed and said ‘That’s what they all say.’ Then he handed me his beer bottle to take a sip from. ‘I got lucky,’ he said. ‘I have a gig starting tonight’.

Sam sat quietly, taking notes on a deli napkin.

I took a drink from the bottle and congratulated him, Summer continued. ‘Where’s the job?’ I asked. ‘It’s a secret,’ he said. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left the apartment. I haven’t seen him since.

Sam sat fascinated. He hardly touched his sandwich as he watched Summer munch on hers and tell her story. Do you want your pickle? she asked as she tentatively reached to pluck the dill spear from his plate.

Nah, you can have it, he said. Then he turned around and looked for Helen, spying the busboy instead. Manny, can you bring me some wax paper and a bag? he asked.

Sure, boss, Manny said. You want your check, too?

Helen’s put it on the tab, Sam said as he wrapped the untouched half of his sandwich and put it in the bag.

Manny smiled. Sure, boss, see you tomorrow.

Sam escorted Summer out to the street and handed her the bag. Here, you need this worse than I do, he said. I need to know who your brother’s agent is. I’ll try to get some answers from him.

"We both have the same agent, Dave Mason over at Future Stars, but he doesn’t know anything. He didn’t get Jonathan the job."

That’s okay. It’s still a place to start, Sam said, tipping his hat. He watched Summer Banning dab at her eyes with her napkin, turn and walk away down the street.

Sam Rock returned to his office and started rummaging through the papers on his desk.

Didn’t you get her phone number? Melanie asked.

Sure I did, Sam said. It’s on a cocktail napkin somewhere. He started to empty out his pockets.

Melanie helped him sort through the odd bits of paper and tiny umbrellas. Is that the same suit you wore to the party? she asked as she held up a shriveled olive, still skewered on a yellow toothpick. I guess it is, she said to herself.

You know how it is, Melanie. Sam shrugged his shoulders. I’m a bachelor. Not much reason to keep up appearances.

Maybe to make an impression on prospective clients? Maybe to impress your creditors?

Been workin’ on the bills again? Sam asked. Melanie nodded. Sam sank down into his chair.

Melanie stood with her arms crossed. I don’t suppose Summer Banning is a paying client? She looked at Sam for a response. Getting none, she said, I didn’t think so. Sam, you owe me two weeks wages as it is. The first of next month, it’s going to take more than your smile to satisfy my landlady.

Business has been a little slow, Sam said. But Louie B. shook my hand personally last night. He told me to my face that if he ever needed a private dick, I’d be the one. You can’t get a better recommendation than that.

"That won’t pay the bills, Sam. I got a call from a Mrs. Smith on Highland. Says her little poodle disappeared. She’s willing to pay a hundred bucks to the finder. You need to call her."

But I promised to find Summer’s brother. I can’t let her down. That skirt’s real needy. I’m sure she will be grateful. Sam straightened the sleeves on his badly worn tweed sports coat.

Sam, listen to yourself. You can’t talk about clients like that, paying or not. Now, you don’t have Summer’s number, so until you get it, go talk to Mrs. Smith. Find her little dog. Make us some money. Keep your bill collectors and my landlady happy.

Sam looked at the slip of paper with Mrs. Smith’s address on it, then at the white clapboard house in front of him. The numbers jibed. He walked up the grass-strip middle of the driveway and cut over to the flagstones that led to the porch. He went up the steps past the pink, brocade doggie bed and the ceramic bowls stenciled "Fru-Fru" in gold letters.

An elderly woman with freshly-set, gray-streaked curls and a crisp, pale-yellow linen suit sat in the porch swing, hands folded in her lap. When she saw Sam, her face brightened.

Have you found my little Fru-Fru yet?

No, ma’am. I just got here, he said as he pulled a slightly damaged business card out of his breast pocket and handed it to her. I’m Sam Rock, at your service. Can you tell me what happened?

The widow Elaine Smith wiped a tear from her eye and sniffled. It was last night. It was really dark out, no moon, you know. I let Fru-Fru out to do her little business and... she never came back. I heard a little yelp. I searched for her, but she never came back.

Maybe she just ran off with a little boy dog. She’ll come runnin’ up those steps real soon now. Maybe a little dirty, maybe a little pregnant, but she’ll come back. She knows where her bowls are. Sam hid his smile behind a cough and a hand covering his mouth.

Young man, do not make light of my predicament. Fru-Fru is very special to me. I am all alone now, and she is gone, and I think vampires might have taken her.

Sam Rock stopped smiling. I am sorry, ma’am, he said, bowing slightly. I will do everything in my power to bring Fru-Fru back. I know how important she must be to you.

Why, yes, Mrs. Smith said, blushing slightly. Thank you, young man, she is very important. She is all I have left since my Edgar died. I am lost without her.

Sam backed across the porch. He tipped his hat and turned to walk down the steps. A broad smile returned to his face and a chuckle escaped as he reached the driveway. He shook his head.

Young man! Young Man! Elaine Smith cried after him. Sam turned to see her tottering toward the stairs waving a photo in her hand. You don’t know what she looks like. You didn’t ask.

Sorry, ma’am, Sam said. He was back at the base of the stairs in three long strides. The widow Smith handed down the photo of her dog. It was a studio portrait of an ordinary-looking, smallish poodle with a typical poodle cut. Any distinguishing marks?

Her collar is engraved. It says ‘Fru-Fru’. I’ll get it for you.

She’s not wearing it? Sam asked.

The woman stopped and turned around. Oh my, how silly of me, she said. Sam could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

That’s all right, Mrs. Smith. We’ll do our best to find her for you. He started to put the photo in his inside pocket.

I need that picture back, Mrs. Smith said. It’s the only picture of Fru-Fru I have. Sam handed her the picture and tipped his hat again.

We’ll do our best, he said once more. He pulled his hat down solidly on his head and hurried back to his car. Wait until I tell Melanie about this one, he said quietly to himself. She’ll never believe it.

Melanie looked up from her desk. Sam Rock was grinning from ear to ear. Did you find the dog? she asked. Did you get the reward?

Sam rolled his eyes. It’s a poodle. It looks like every other poodle on Highland, and she thinks it was taken by vampires. He made the cuckoo sign by pointing to his head and making small circles with his finger.

So the answer is no? Melanie slammed an invoice down on her desk. What are we gonna do?

Before Sam could answer, Summer Banning walked into the outer office waving a napkin. I don’t believe you have my number, she said. This seems to be the napkin I gave you at the party. Have you been trying to call?

Sam took the napkin delicately from Summer’s hand. I don’t have any information just yet, he said. I’ve been working on this real hush-hush kidnapping case on Highland.

Melanie glared at Sam and plucked the napkin from his hand. I’ll take care of this, she said. She transcribed the numbers from the napkin to the address book on her desk. Sam will call you when he has some information.

Summer looked at Sam. May I see you in your office?

Sam stiffened. His hands went up to adjust the tie he wasn’t wearing. Hoping Summer hadn’t noticed, he rose from leaning against his secretary’s desk. Of course, he said as he pushed his office door open.

Melanie heard the key turn in the lock as Sam closed the door behind them. She shoved her lap drawer shut and grabbed her purse from underneath her desk. She walked out of the office without pushing in her chair or straightening the papers on her desktop, slamming the door behind her.

What can I do for you? Sam asked Summer. Would you like a drink? Some gum maybe? A cigarette?

Summer smiled. No, I would like my brother back. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small manila envelope. I have money now, she said as she held it out to Sam. Will this help?

He took the envelope and rifled through the contents. Wow! Where did this come from? There’s a lot of money here.

I earned it, Summer said, matter-of-factly. Every penny.

You got a bank account somewhere around here? You better get this dough into it, Sam said as he handed the envelope back to the redhead.

I keep it... secure, Summer said. She tucked the envelope deep inside her purse, which she held close in her lap. I got some more information from the agent that got my brother the job. Summer leaned forward. So did Sam. Jonathan was working on a movie when he disappeared, she said. He was an extra on some pirate flick shooting out in Burbank. The agent said he worked two days and didn’t show up the third. Studio called him to complain. They had to reshoot a couple of scenes.

They still shootin’ up there? Sam asked, studying her face. Are they green or hazel?

What? Summer asked as she gave him a strange look.

Your eyes. I can’t tell if they are green or hazel.

They are hazel, not that it’s any concern of yours. And they finished shooting a couple of days ago.

What color are Jonathan’s eyes? Sam asked.

Summer rummaged through her bag again and pulled out the picture of the two of them at the county fair. Maybe you better keep this, she said. They are blue.

I just need to borrow it to show around Central Casting. I’ll give it back later. Did he have a SAG card?

No, he hasn’t had any speaking parts yet.

There, see? You’re talking about him in the present tense. He’s gonna be all right. Sam reached out and squeezed her hand. You need an escort home? It’s getting dark outside.

No, thank you, Mr. Rock. Summer said as she withdrew her hand from his grasp. It’s only four o’clock. There’s plenty of daylight left. I’ll take the bus.

You won’t be safe with all that money. I better take you home.

No one knows I have this money, so I’m perfectly safe. Now, how much do I owe you?

Melanie keeps the books. I’ll ask her. Sam flipped the switch to the intercom open and called to his secretary. There was no answer. Melanie, he called a little louder. Several more flips of the switch gained him nothing. Sam walked to the door and unlocked it. He stuck his head into the outer office.

Melanie? I guess she’s gone for the day. Must’ve had an appointment or something.

Shall I give this to you, then? Summer asked.

Sam put up his hands. I don’t have the keys to her desk, and I don’t have a place to keep it safe. I’ve also been known to bet the ponies from time to time.

Summer Banning looked exasperated. How are you ever going to be able to find my brother? she asked. You don’t seem very professional to me. How do you survive?

Melanie helps a lot, Sam smiled sheepishly. And I promise, I’ll find your brother, James.

Jonathan, Mr. Rock, Summer replied emphatically as she rose to go. His name is Jonathan. Call me when you have some information for me.

How do I get in touch with you? Sam asked. Where do you live?

Your secretary has my number, she said as she backed slowly toward the door.

"But how will I contact you after