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Although
inspired by the current events, this book is the work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the
product of author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,
or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
This
book is dedicated to my beloved city of
Malibu
where quiet elegance, majestic ocean, untouched forest and
scenic hills grace its lucky inhabitants. There is no
place like
Malibu
. God bless my
Malibu
.
CHAPTER
1
Murder is the
greatest equalizer between the rich and the poor. It is
the only act that sends everyone to the same place—the
morgue. That’s where I was heading from
Malibu
this morning. There is an unwritten rule in
California
that whoever has a
Malibu
zip code ought to be rich. This of course is not true, and
I’m a living example of this fallacy. I don’t consider
myself poor, but in
Los Angeles
wealth is relevant.
In
the City of
Angels
, nothing is as it seems. Gorgeous men and women flock to
L.A.
from all over the world in search of fame. The few who
make it, move to
Malibu
. The rest stay in
Melrose
and wait on tables.
Sheer
luck made me a
Malibu
resident. One of our clients had to make a movie in the
South of France. I happened to be looking for an apartment
around the same time that he was searching for a
house-sitter. That was when the Malibu Gods blessed me.
Our client offered to pay me, if I took care of his house
for a year. And that’s how I acquired my
Malibu
zip code.
To
top my good fortune, I was given permission to drive his
small red Porsche during my stay. Life was good, and I was
determined to enjoy every minute of it.
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