Read Online Voices in the Wardrobe by Marlys Millhiser - Free Book Online

entertainment industry might be a possible article. And I thought it would be fun to hand deliver a completed book manuscript to my new agent.”
    â€œYou’ve already got an assignment for this article.”
    â€œRight. But you get to check out the contract. I have divorced Jethro Larue for good.”
    As Kenny had predicted, Jeth Larue, a fairly formidable New York literary agent, had not liked Kenny’s proposal for a book dealing largely with the conundrum of nursing homes and those who dwell interminably and helplessly within. Jeth had a mother so incarcerated whom he couldn’t bear to visit and found the whole subject distasteful. He was also of the age where he was the next generation up for this lovely existence.
    Kenny’s title for it was The Curse of Myrtle, Iowa, the United States, and The Developed World . Neither he nor Charlie thought that would be the final title but both were too involved in the problem it posed to think up the perfect one and Charlie figured this title would entice enough curiosity to get a close examination. If accepted, it would be his fifth published book, plus he had credits as an investigative reporter for the Miami Herald and at least ten article credits with major news magazines.
    Plus which he was way more than presentable, too way more, and the guy could pitch, an indispensable asset in an industry in which major decision makers too often have little inclination to read. Agents and editors read what their assistants pass on and then must pitch to higher levels to wheedle contracts. That’s one of the reasons why new material is often presented as similar to the latest bestseller or star in a genre or category. Plus, the stud had business savvy. His first agent didn’t know the half there. Kenny’d been born and raised in Myrtle, moved to Florida, and returned to save its only pool hall. He’d renamed it Viagra’s. It was a hit.
    â€œDoes that sudden photo op back at the Islandia mean I get my picture with you in the paper instead of Hilsten tomorrow?”
    There was only one official San Diego sheriff’s car in the parking lot at the Sea Spa at the Marina del Sol, but quite a few other cars. And when Charlie and Kenny entered, after ignoring Dashiell the gatekeeper, the place seemed to be humming. No one at the front desk or in the office, or in Maggie’s room, but they followed sound to find her in a mirrored gym on the pool level sweating out an exercise-dance routine to the rhythms of Swank Swill with twenty-five, maybe thirty others. Unlike the screenwriters’ conference, all but three of those participating here were female.
    â€œThought you said the place was almost closed down by the murder.” Kenny inspected the weightlifting and torture machine room next door through the windows. “They got some cool stuff here.”
    Raoul had a few sacrifices in the pool and several others sat on the side watching. Maggie’d waved at them from the distressed line in the gym. Charlie said, “Let’s go find either the VanZants, the law, or Luella Ridgeway. Maggie’s smiling so I’m not rescuing her yet.”
    â€œYou don’t make a lot more sense than my last agent.”
    They found Detective Solomon in the auditorium with Caroline and Warren VanZant.
    â€œWell, here’s our famous Hollywood agent. In my minuscule experience of such things, I thought agents kept a lower profile. Our Union-Tribune is usually more immune to celebrity. And who is this gentleman?”
    â€œI’m her bodyguard.” Kenny Cowper bent to smile sardonically upon them all.
    â€œHe’s one of my authors, Kenneth Cooper,” Charlie said. “Caroline, I just saw Maggie and she seemed happy. Have you adjusted her drugs some more?”
    â€œDrugs?” Solomon looked away from Kenny to study the Spa’s proprietor.
    â€œMedications,” Charlie corrected and tried to smile with conviction.
    But