The Catalina Cahoots

By Rosalind Barden

Sparky's latest adventure takes her island hoppin' to Catalina, off the coast of Prohibition-era Southern California, and being that our preteen super-sleuth is involved, neither Hollywood nor murder can be far behind!

A film is being shot on this isl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Poodle Productions, LLC
• Release date: Apr 28, 2025
• ISBN: 9798989280896

Rosalind Barden

Rosalind Barden has long been fascinated by the history of Los Angeles's lost noir neighborhood, Bunker Hill. "The Cold Kid Case," the first in her zany 1930s "Sparky of Bunker Hill Mystery" series is a #1 Amazon Bestseller in its category and has been awarded multiple accolades, including the Firebird Book Award 1st Place for Cozy Mysteries. Over thirty of her short mystery and horror stories have been published, including her inspiration for the "Sparky of Bunker Hill Mystery" series, "The Monkey's Ghost," part of the FAPA President's Book Awards Silver Medalist anthology, "History and Mystery, Oh My!" She writes and continues to explore lost history in Los Angeles. Discover more at RosalindBarden.com.

Book preview

1

The water shocked me. It was so cold.

I plunged deeper into the Pacific Ocean. I didn’t know how to stop going down. I was desperate to breathe, but there was no air, only water.

I didn’t want to drown.

Would this September dawn, 1932, be my last?

I was only eleven. What had I even done in my short life? I’d been a street kid roaming Bunker Hill in downtown Los Angeles since my mom died and the cousins who never wanted me took off.

To earn pennies, I ran for Bookie. I also had a talent for second-story work, mainly because I was small. Let me tell you, some fine gems came to Bookie’s boss Chum-Chum thanks to me. I admit it. I was a little criminal.

One thing I wasn’t: a murderer. When I was accused of murder this summer, Tootise LaFemme, a once famous silent screen star, and her mysterious assistant Gilbert Grossman, who looked like a goblin, took me in. I lived in her strange Bunker Hill mansion stuffed with costumes from her old movies. The local kids called it Creepy House.

Tootsie and Gilbert tried putting me on the straight and narrow. After a long absence, they enrolled me in school. I ended up in the dummy class. The other kids made fun of me. My bossy bookworm friend Bobby tried helping me with my spelling, reading, and everything else. He said I was smart. He said I only needed to believe in myself.

The thing was, I didn’t fit in. Anywhere.

Chicago ran Bookie, Chum-Chum, and the rest of the crew out of town. They were off to new criminal adventures without me. Tootsie finally got a movie role after years of nothing. Along with Gilbert, she left town for filming.

So, you see, by September, everyone had left me. School was a disaster. I was supposed to stay in Bobby’s house while Tootsie was gone. But Bobby was mad at me for avoiding him and skipping school so much, and it was only my first week. So I made the snap decision to stow away on a boat across the Pacific Ocean to parts unknown.

That was the bright idea of another kid, Cornelius, whose granddad owned a weird pet shop on Bunker Hill. Cornelius, who also went by Archie (I know, didn’t make sense to me either), got caught before he snuck aboard the ship.

So I sailed alone.

That ship, the South Seas, turned out to be nothing but a floating loony bin stuffed with angry silent film actors whose glory days were long past, along with other cuckoos.

That’s why I had to jump into the ocean to escape.

Like a lot of my bright ideas in my short life, jumping into the water wasn’t what I’d expected.

I kept sinking. My spangle-pasted dance costume and glitter tights felt like they weighed a ton. They were dragging me down. The stolen library book tucked into my tights was no doubt waterlogged and dragging me down even more. I should’ve pulled it out and let it float away. But I just couldn’t. That book had gotten me through tough times.

Bursts of color darted past me. Fish? I looked up. I saw light and more colorful fish dancing above me. Beyond them, I saw shapes on the surface.

The huge shape was the ship I’d jumped from. Near the South Seas floated smaller shapes. One of the smaller shapes slipped away from another shape and dove into the water. The shape swam downward toward me.

It was Dog, the runaway, teenaged mayor of the City of Los Angeles. City Hall fixer Whisper-Whisper picked the bushy-haired kid as his next, easy-to-control mayor. Dog didn’t want to be picked, didn’t want to be controlled, and he certainly didn’t want to be dragged from the beach for mayoral duties. That’s why he ran away to hide with his little sister Cookie on the South Seas.

Cookie and Dog had jumped into the water before me. They’d coaxed me to follow them. Let me tell you, taking that plunge was about the scariest thing I’d done in my life.

I felt Dog grab my arm. Suddenly, my plunging stopped. I began traveling upwards with Dog. My head crashed to the surface. I gasped for air.

He swam and pulled me toward his strange board. Dog couldn’t be parted from that board. It was longer than he was tall. It was pointed at one end and flat at the other. I saw his sister Cookie clinging to the board. Grab hold! Cookie called. She reached toward me, gripped my hand, and helped Dog pull me to his board.

Ahead, I saw the island I’d seen from the ship. It looked larger now that we were closer. I hoped it wasn’t Prison Island.

Hurry! Dog shouted. We’ve got to get away!

As soon as I clutched the board, Dog hopped out of the water to lay stomach-down on his board. Get on the board behind me, he called to me and Cookie. We scrambled on top of it. It was a long board and had plenty of room. Don’t wiggle around and don’t fall off, he cautioned. I suspected that was aimed at me. Cookie seemed to know how the routine with Dog’s board worked.

Dog began paddling with his hands. His paddling moved the board forward. He looked back toward the South Seas. So did I.

A group of girls on the lower deck pointed at us. They were the dance troupe I had been forcibly drafted into by Petunia. I replaced the show’s lead, Cookie, who ditched the troupe to hide onboard with her stowaway brother.

Toward the front of the upper deck, odious Mr. Beele also peered at us through his spectacles. He was the music director for the dance show, as well as Tootsie’s voice teacher. As usual, he looked annoyed.

Next to him stood Petunia, my nemesis from Bunker Hill. She was older than me, twelve, and crazy. I did not tangle with Petunia. Somehow, she’d become Beele’s production assistant for the show. Miss Lil, the ship’s strangely thin cat, sat at Petunia’s feet. Miss Lil’s green eyes bored into me.

A smattering of the former silent stars stared from the lower deck, then lost interest.

Wait, one was still interested. I spotted Nazeela—a fake actress name if there ever was one—at the ship’s railing on another part of the upper deck. Of all the silent stars onboard, she was the most successful. She smiled at us and tipped the battered top hat that she’d borrowed from Wonky William, the drunken vaudeville magician onboard.

Cookie was Nazeela’s original stand-in for the dance show, and I became the replacement stand-in. Why? Because, though we were both eleven, we looked a lot like Nazeela. We were about her height. Our wild, bushy, dishwater-blonde hair matched hers.

Dog had the same curly hair. Both he and Cookie had blue eyes, unlike my gray ones. My face was also plastered with freckles. Nazeela had gray eyes like mine, but I didn’t think she had freckles, unless she hid them under pancake makeup.

Nazeela was laughing. Was she blowing kisses at us?

I wouldn’t trust Nazeela as far as I could throw her, which wasn’t an inch. Still, I owed her one. I also had to admire her sheer audacity, even though, let’s face it, Nazeela was not only a silent movie star, but a crook. Like me. And Petunia.

I also owed Petunia. That’s a spot I didn’t want to be in. I hoped she never decided to collect.

2

The South Seas sailed in a different direction from us, toward a long wooden dock by a cluster of small buildings, little houses, and palm trees. A similar ship was already there. I’d seen it docked next to the South Seas back in LA.

That must be the ship carrying the bigger stars. The South Seas was the loser ship for the second-rate actors, or so Nazeela said. Not that I believed anything she said, but I did wonder. The actors on the South Seas, the dance show, and Mr. Beele were all part of a movie that would be filmed on the island.

The dawning September sun lit up more white houses with red-tiled roofs marching up the steep hillsides that hugged the island’s curving bay. The island looked kind of like Los Angeles, but a peaceful, small-town version of LA. It was early, so only a few people strolled on a walkway that framed a wide, sandy beach.

Small, white boats bobbed in the sparkling ocean. Now that I wasn’t drowning, I could tell how nice the water was. It was as clear as glass. Through the water, I saw the colorful fish that had darted around me while I was sinking. When the sun touched the ocean, it shimmered a brilliant sapphire in some places, and blue-green in others. As the breeze brushed my wet dance costume, I shivered. In between the breezes, the sun nicely warmed me.

I liked this place.

Petunia told me the ship’s first stop was Prison Island, and it was brimming with cannibal prisoners, plus rabid lions and bears. Seeing the island up close, I wasn’t sure I believed her anymore. Still, I’d keep my eyeballs peeled once we got to shore.

Dog paddled away from the boats and buildings, toward a deserted, rocky area with a narrow beach. I saw only a smattering of small beach huts and no people. The ocean became rougher here.

Below us, I noticed the water was rising like a hump. It grew. What was happening? It made me nervous. Dog kept paddling as if he were riding this hump of water. I stared wide-eyed at Cookie, but she was calm, like this was no big deal. She even smiled.

Suddenly, creatures jumped from the water. I shrieked, Giant bugs!

Cookie laughed. They’re flying fish. I heard Dog laughing too.

Hey, I’d never been out on the ocean before. I didn’t know what things lurked in the depths. The flying fish, or whatever they were, sure looked like giant bugs with scary, fluttering wings.

More flying fish jumped from the ocean. They flew low above the water, keeping pace with us, but only for a moment. Then they disappeared again into the ocean.

This was a strange place.

The ocean hump began to change shape as we neared the little beach. It became steeper. Then the front of it broke into a line of foamy white. The foam made me think of the rabid bears and lions that Petunia said prowled Prison Island.

As the water began foaming, Dog hopped up into a crouching stance on his board. Hang tight! With his feet and knees, he swiveled the board here and there to ride this growing hump of water. I realized it was a wave.

Then, close to shore, the wave stretched itself out, growing smaller and smaller until there was nothing left of it.

Dog and Cookie let out happy whoops. I was too shocked to say anything. I was still alive. That counted for something.

That was a nothing wave, Sparky. But it was still fun, Dog said. He hopped off the board, landing in water that came up only to his calves.

Quick, run to the beach before the next wave comes. It’ll be bigger! Cookie called to me.

She jumped off the board. I followed her into the water. My feet landed on soft sand that seemed to slide away under my toes. Come on! I heard her say. She was out of the water now and clambering with her brother up the sandy beach. He hefted his board on top of his head, then paused to look behind.

I was still standing where I landed. I didn’t know why, but I couldn’t move. The most water I’d ever stepped into was the bathtub at Creepy House.

I didn’t know what to do.

Cookie splashed back into the water, grabbed my hand, and pulled me until I got moving. As soon as we were on the beach, a wave larger than the one we’d just rode slapped down behind us. That wave might have knocked me over if Cookie hadn’t pulled me away. See? she said. You have to grab your chance.

People will be getting up soon and coming out. Let’s hide in those rocks! Dog said. He was afraid of Whisper-Whisper hunting him down and dragging him to City Hall. The fewer people who saw him, the better.

With the board balanced on his head, he ran with his sister to a jumble of boulders that nearly surrounded the small beach.

I ran after them, but my feet sank into the sand, making me move in slow motion. I’d had this same problem the only other time I’d tried running on beach sand. Bookie drove me to that beach late at night so I could climb through a certain beach house window to borrow priceless jewels. Bookie got upset with me when I couldn’t move fast in the sand.

The feet on my glitter tights were already ripped away (thanks, Miss Lil). Even so, the sand somehow traveled into what was left of my wet tights’ feet and toes. The more I moved, the more the sand kept going, working its way under my tights to crawl up my calves.

Bookie talked about the problem of cement boots and the importance of avoiding them. If he were here, Bookie would have my hide. At this beach, I’d gotten myself into what amounted to a pair of cement boots.

I heaved one foot out of the sand. That required serious muscle power. I tried taking another step. Then down I went, flat on my face in the sand.

3

I landed not far from the walkway at the top of the narrow beach where the sand ended. Beyond it were the small beach huts I’d seen before we landed. The walkway wound behind the tall pile of boulders where Dog and Cookie hid. Then the walkway vanished out of sight. I wondered if more beach huts were back there. On the other side of the little beach, the walkway curved around more boulders to head in the direction of the little town and the dock.

I lifted myself up on my elbows. The sand was hard and scratchy. It was all over my face. It smelled salty and fishy. Scattered in the sand were smooth rocks and what looked like broken seashells. I thought of Bobby. He loved studying things like rocks and seashells, even if the shells were broken and no good to anybody else.

Thinking of Bobby made me suddenly remember my stolen library book. Had it survived my trip to shore? Yes! I still felt it tucked into my tights for safekeeping. Good. It was wet, like the rest of me. I hoped the school librarian, Mrs. Bean, wouldn’t be too sore about my borrowing it, permanently. When I ran away from LA, I planned on never coming back.

What I didn’t expect was how much I’d miss everyone.

I heard a hushed voice calling me. I looked up toward the rocks where Dog and Cookie hid. From behind the largest one, I saw Dog’s face. He waved his arm to motion me over. Suddenly, he stood up from the rocks. He looked behind, where the walkway meandered out of sight. He quickly crouched down. He turned back toward me and mouthed, Hide! Then he ducked down to disappear behind the boulders.

I couldn’t hide anywhere. I could barely move.

I heard footsteps. The sound came from where the walkway vanished behind the boulders that Dog and Cookie were hiding in. The approaching footsteps grew nearer.

Then someone appeared on the walkway from around the boulders.

Bookie.

I couldn’t believe it.

Sure enough, it was him, a complete crook and the boss I used to run for on Bunker Hill before Chicago ran him out of town. Even though I’d found a home with Tootsie and Gilbert, I had still worked for Bookie. He did me a favor that cleared my name of murder this summer. Working for him, for free, forever, was my payback. Who said life was fair?

This morning, Bookie sported an elegant but funny-looking costume: long coattails, ruffled white shirt, and a sash pinned with huge, jeweled medals. A chain of more jeweled medals draped his shoulders. He held up a metal stick with a shockingly large jewel at its top. His thick, dark hair was crowned with an actual crown. That’s right, a crown packed with more jewels. From how the sun danced and sparkled when it hit those rocks, I knew the jewels were real, not paste.

A funny thing struck me. No, a couple of funny things. Those were some valuable gems to be parading around a beach in the middle of the ocean. The other funny thing: Bookie’s stick, crown, and medals had a dime-store look about them. They weren’t gold. Why fasten expensive rocks to cheap metal?

Bookie had always loved clothes. This morning, I could tell Bookie especially loved this costume, regardless of whether his crown was brass. A rare smile lit up his tan face and traveled to his big brown eyes. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever seen Bookie look so happy. He usually looked grumpy and annoyed.

I ducked my head down. If I didn’t move, maybe they wouldn’t notice me. I know—not likely, but I had to try. Carefully, I peeked at this strange, new Bookie.

It wasn’t only Bookie.

Coming up behind Bookie to stroll at his side, was his gangly buddy, the all-purpose fast talker and con artist, Knucklehead. He also wore long coattails and a ruffled shirt. He had a sash, but only pinned with a couple of jeweled medals. Instead of a crown, he sported a top hat. Knucklehead still wore his signature fake bandage over his nose that actually wasn’t missing like he pretended. I noticed he had a new nose bandage that had a shimmer to it. Must be silk.

Knucklehead was already taller than Bookie, but the top hat made Knuckles tower over him. The usually touchy and temperamental Bookie didn’t seem to mind. He was too pleased with his high-class gear.

Behind Bookie, his two huge gorillas emerged from around the boulders. They carried the ends of a long, purple train that hung from the back of Bookie’s shoulders. The gorillas were dressed in matching, old-fashioned military getups. They wore metal helmets waving with feathers, like dandy soldiers from a hundred years ago. The towering feathers also added to their height. They looked puzzled, like they often did, but were doing their best at whatever this act was supposed to be.

Around the boulders came the last of the parade. It was their crime boss, Chum-Chum, sitting in a cart pulled by a displeased donkey. I could imagine the donkey wasn’t happy dragging Chum-Chum, who was as wide as he was tall—not that he was any taller than I was. Chum-Chum dressed how he always did. He wore white silk pajamas, a white silk tie, and a silk robe. Today’s robe was purple with a pattern of jewels and gold crowns. I couldn’t see his feet, but I’d bet he wore purple tasseled slippers to match his robe.

In one hand, Chum-Chum held a matching purple-and-gold paper parasol. His parasol shaded his slicked-down black hair from the growing sun.

In his other arm, Chum-Chum cradled his goldfish Rosie in her bowl. He never went anywhere without Rosie. Except for prison. That’s when I had to take care of Rosie, with help from Bookie. Rosie swished about the bowl, her long, orange tail flowing behind her. I could tell she was curious and taking in this new island scene.

Like usual, Chum-Chum’s fingers were loaded with jeweled rings, all paste. To Chum-Chum, real rocks were for business only. That’s why it was so strange that Bookie and Knucklehead were decked out in the real deals. Those gems could only have come from Chum-Chum’s inventory. But why?

Leading the donkey was Spots, another member of Chum-Chum’s criminal crew. He wasn’t sporting his usual spotted tie. Instead, Spots also wore an antique soldier outfit, but his helmet wasn’t as fancy and didn’t have feathers. The cart wasn’t traveling too fast owing to Spots’s bum, bandaged foot.

Spots nervously eyed the donkey, which was understandable because, as he liked to tell everyone over and over, a horse—an officer’s horse, no less—had stepped on his foot in the war. That’s how his foot became the bandaged bum mess it was now. The donkey eyed Spots back, a challenge in its look.

Before I ran off to become a stowaway, Knucklehead told me they were heading out of LA for some sort of new business Chum-Chum had cooked up. This must be it. Their parade was headed in the direction of the island’s small town. What in the world were they up to?

Rosie spotted me first. She stopped her swishing. She stared down at me, then blew a bubble.

Chum-Chum noticed her noticing. He followed her gaze to me. What? he growled. He didn’t use his weird little girl’s voice that he often favored, but his deep, I’m-mad-at-you voice.

The growl caused the donkey to stop and see what Chum-Chum was mad about. In the process, the donkey stepped on Spots’s bum foot. It kind of looked like the donkey did it on purpose. Spots yowled.

His yowl caused the two gorillas to stop in their tracks and turn and stare at Spots. They and Bookie’s purple train halted so suddenly, Bookie stumbled and dropped his jeweled stick. As he bent to pick it up, he saw me. His mouth dropped open.

That’s when Knucklehead also noticed me sprawled in the sand mere feet from the walkway where they paraded. You could always count on Knucklehead to be quick on the draw in these types of situations. Begone, peasant girl! he bellowed in an all-purpose foreign accent. You are not permitted to gaze upon the glorious visage of the Czar of all Russia!

You’ve got to be kidding.

4

I scrambled up from the sand, fell, pulled myself up, and staggered in my sandy cement boots away from Chum-Chum’s parade.

Once past Chum-Chum’s donkey cart, I hopped onto the walkway so I wouldn’t keep sinking into the sand.

A fluffy white poodle face popped up out of the back of the donkey cart. It was Pooch, Knucklehead’s four-legged buddy. Pooch gave me a happy poodle smile with her tongue hanging out. At least someone was glad to see me.

The parade of crooks kept marching forward to the town.

I hobbled along the walkway past the boulders where Dog and Cookie hid. The crooks had lost interest in me, but I still didn’t want to risk revealing Dog and Cookie’s hiding place.

Around the bend in the walkway, there were more beach huts. Farther along, the huts were larger, more like cabins. Someone had arranged rocks to spell Keep Out! across the walkway. Even I could read that. Chum-Chum must have rented the cabins.

My dance costume was wet, sandy, and itchy. I jumped to shake off the sand. The sand must have liked me because it didn’t want to leave. I sat on the walkway in a patch of sun to warm up. I dug the sand out of my dance tights, then rolled them up to my knees so at least I could walk.

Psst! Sparky, those people are gone. That was Dog.

I trotted back along the walkway to meet Dog and Cookie, who’d climbed out from their hiding space in the boulders.

Dog was tan from spending most of his time on the LA beaches. He wore a two-piece swim costume that was made of a pair of stretchy dark-blue shorts held up with a white belt, and a striped white-and-dark-blue sleeveless top. He carefully pulled his board from the rocks. I could tell it meant a lot to him.

Cookie’s yellow blouse, rolled-up dungarees, and sneakers were soaked. She sat on the walkway, pulled off her sneakers, and banged them on the walkway to shake out the sand.

We need to find a long-term place to hide on this island, Dog said. The land rose up steeply from the small beach, huts, and cabins. Dog looked up, studying the brown hills thickly dotted with low, scrubby plants. They reminded me of the Hollywood Hills, but without the mansions. We can camp in the hills, Dog said.

Cookie struggled to shove her wet sneakers back onto her feet. Are those weird people with the crown and donkey the same as the ones who want you to be mayor of LA?

No. It was a tall, skinny, blond guy in a panama hat. He had two young cops helping him who weren’t much older than me. Dog was sixteen. Whisper-Whisper’s kid cops did look like they were barely out of high school. Before I fled LA, he’d promoted them to police lieutenants.

Let’s see what the town is like, Cookie suggested. If the bad guy isn’t there, you’ll be safe, and we won’t have to camp in the hills. This doesn’t look like Prison Island. I think Petunia was making that up. And maybe no one really cares if you and Sparky were stowaways. You’re not on the ship being a stowaway now, right? Besides, I should find out what’s happening with the movie. Those people in costume could be actors.

They sure were acting at something.

Dog snorted. I knew Petunia was lying. I was sure this island was Catalina. The town is Avalon. There are no rabid bears here.

That made me feel stupid. I believed Petunia.

Listen to yourself, Cookie, Dog continued. You spent almost the whole time on the ship hiding because you can’t stand Mr. Beele and the other dance girls from your school, Mrs. Jolly’s baby academy or whatever. Mrs. Jolly is always telling you that you have to reduce and get thinner. Those girls tell you you’re fat. Why do you want anything to do with that movie?

He had a point.

It’s Mrs. Jolly’s Hollywood School for Gifted Babies in the Performing Arts. Cookie stood and put her hands on her hips.

Whatever. It’s our aunt who pushes you into this Hollywood stuff. That’s her dream, not yours. You don’t have to go along with it.

Cookie bent her head and sighed. It wasn’t just their aunt. Cookie also caught the Hollywood bug. I could tell she was too embarrassed to admit that to her brother. Dog wouldn’t understand. I think maybe with more of the actors around, Beele and those girls won’t be so snobby. He’s the music director, but there will be an actual director who probably won’t be nearly as horrible.

Dog wasn’t buying it. The director could be ten times worse.

Mrs. Jolly will be so mad at me if I ditch this role. She’ll say I ruined my career. I know I’m just Nazeela’s stand-in, but she’s the star dancer. That means I have the girls’ lead dance role. The other girls hate me for that, but maybe I shouldn’t let them decide my future for me. Mrs. Jolly said I was lucky to get this role because I look like Nazeela, and luck like this rarely shows up in Hollywood.

You sound like our aunt, Dog grumbled. Besides, there was weird stuff going on in that ship. Dog turned toward me. "What was going on in the South Seas anyway?"

Dog and Cookie had been hiding in a lifeboat during most of the trip. They didn’t know how weird things got. Should I tell them? Would they believe me? If Cookie was determined to get back into the movie project, I didn’t want to say something that would scare her away. What if Mrs. Jolly was right and this was Cookie’s once-in-a-lifetime lucky break? I couldn’t ruin that for her.

Bookie said nothing good came from flapping your jaw too much. His advice was usually solid.

Mr. Beele was yelling at everybody,