Hollywood was a land of illusions, and Veronica Blair was the master magician.
Hollywood, California, 1968:
Jennifer Blair returns to her hometown of Hollywood, determined to find her mother’s killer. Veronica Blair, a movie studio publicist, had been murdered twenty years before during a dinner party at mogul Chase Carlton’s mansion. The crime went unsolved, even though just five other guests and the kitchen staff had attended the party. An open window yielded the only clue, suggesting an unknown assailant who was never identified.
Jennifer enlists the aid of private detective Clay Kirk, a man with flaws he’s fighting to fix. He specializes in divorce cases—catching cheating spouses in compromising situations—but he’s determined to help Jennifer solve her mother’s murder, regardless of the personal sacrifices he makes to do it.
They start the investigation fresh, interviewing the original suspects, sorting through Veronica Blair’s personal files to find them filled with gossip and innuendos—many of which are motives for murder. When a Mafia henchman is thrown into the mix, Jennifer and Clay find what they least expected—an investigation with more twists and turns than suspects.
Hollywood was a land of illusions, and Veronica Blair was the master magician.
Hollywood, California, 1968:
Jennifer Blair returns to her hometown of Hollywood, determined to find her mother’s killer. Veronica Blair, a movie studio publicist, had been murdered twenty years before during a dinner party at mogul Chase Carlton’s mansion. The crime went unsolved, even though just five other guests and the kitchen staff had attended the party. An open window yielded the only clue, suggesting an unknown assailant who was never identified.
Jennifer enlists the aid of private detective Clay Kirk, a man with flaws he’s fighting to fix. He specializes in divorce cases—catching cheating spouses in compromising situations—but he’s determined to help Jennifer solve her mother’s murder, regardless of the personal sacrifices he makes to do it.
They start the investigation fresh, interviewing the original suspects, sorting through Veronica Blair’s personal files to find them filled with gossip and innuendos—many of which are motives for murder. When a Mafia henchman is thrown into the mix, Jennifer and Clay find what they least expected—an investigation with more twists and turns than suspects.
Prologue
Hollywood, California
November 18, 1948
Veronica Blair was the most powerful woman in Hollywood, even if no one in the rest of the world knew who she was. A publicist in a town where publicity reigned, she marketed stars like cigarettes or cereal, doing what movie studios wanted but publicly denied. Tabloids, newspapers, and scandal sheets followed her lead, rarely unraveling information she offered. Together, they destroyed some of the most gifted people on the planet, while elevating others to a status they never should have attained.
Hollywood in 1948 was a land of illusions, and Veronica Blair was the master magician. She twisted fact and fiction, collecting secrets to use when she needed them most. Most did her bidding, and those who didn’t came to regret it. In a town where some held no allegiance, many she considered friends should have been counted as foes.
She just didn’t know it.
Chapter 1
Twenty years later
Hollywood, California
June 28, 1968
Locals called it the castle on the cliff—a beautiful Art Deco mansion with curved corners and a circular tower that climbed along one side. It sat on a ledge with a shimmering pool that sprawled to the edge, overlooking the valley below. A fifty-foot sign with white letters dominated the hill behind it, boldly stating: Hollywood.
The cobblestone drive curled from the road, tan and gray bricks perfectly spaced with moss creeping through the mortar between them. A black iron gate prevented entry, a thick chain and heavy padlock with specks of rust wrapped around its center. Surrounded by a six-foot stone wall, curved in places to match the building, the view through the gate showed overgrown shrubs, a few dead plants, and chipped paint on a building that had once been admired. It had last changed hands twenty years before, little-used ever since.
Jennifer Blair edged her red Ford Mustang into the driveway, idling forward until the bumper almost touched the gate. She stayed in the car, staring at the castle—the curves in its design, the turret climbing one corner, the Hollywood sign on the hill behind it. She could see part of the walkway to the house, a few broken cobblestones, flower beds filled with tangled weeds. She feared the building for the memories it contained—it took courage for her to come, more than most possessed. Now it seemed surreal, like she’d awakened in the midst of a nightmare.
Barely thirty, her dirty-blonde hair was brushed back from her face to accent soft brown eyes that misted as she studied the castle. With an audible sigh, she opened the door and climbed out of the car, not even sure what to look for. She went to the gate, her beige dress billowing in a warm, dry breeze, and put her hands on vertical cylinders shaped like prison bars to study a property hidden from the public’s prying eyes.
She hadn’t been there long—a few minutes at most—when a black Los Angeles police car turned into the driveway and parked behind her. An officer climbed out, watched her for a moment, and then came toward her.
“This is private property, Miss," he said.
She didn’t answer. She didn’t even turn around.
“Miss,” he said insistently. “This is private property.”
Only then did she face him, a stern man with graying hair. “How do I get inside?” she asked.
“You don’t,” he said firmly. “You can’t even stay here. You have to leave.”
“I can’t leave,” she said. “I have to get inside.” She wasn’t making sense, and he deserved an explanation. But none of it had ever made sense.
His patience was waning. “May I see some identification, please?”
“I’ll get it,” she said. She went to the car to get her handbag, fished through it, and took out her passport. She handed it to him, dazed by emotions that had been dormant for twenty years.
“Jennifer Blair, age 30, from Geneva, Switzerland,” he said as he scanned her passport.
“Yes, sir,” she said, but offered no more.
“What brings you to L.A., Miss Blair?”
She sighed, feeling flushed. “I came to find answers.”
He handed back her passport. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Miss Blair. I really do. But you have to look for it somewhere else.”
Her face firmed. “I can’t,” she insisted.
He cocked his head. “Why not?”
“Because the answers are here.”
He paused as a hint of compassion flickered across his face. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated. “Yes, officer, I’m fine,” she said, even though she wasn’t.
He studied her a moment more and then glanced at the house, eyeing the curved corners that made the design so unique, and looked back at her. “Why is this property so important?”
She shifted her gaze to meet his. “My mother was murdered in this house.”
Who killed Los Angeles publicist Veronica Blair in 1948 and why? Intriguing characters with myriad secrets populate The Castle On The Cliff, a cozy mystery novel by John Anthony Miller. In 1948, 55-year-old influential movie producer Chase Carlton owned the titular Hollywood castle, where he hosted numerous parties. Veronica Blair, one of the film industry’s top publicists, was murdered during one such gathering. Veronica's daughter, Jennifer Blair, was only ten years old the night Chase found her mother’s body in an upstairs bedroom. Miles Blair, Veronica’s husband and Jennifer’s father, was a prime suspect. When he died six months later, authorities called his death suicide.
Chase, his party invitees: an actor, actress, director, fashion expert, and Miles, a scriptwriter, had at least one secret and motive for committing Veronica's murder. The police were also complicit. Veronica’s murder remained unsolved.
In 1968, Veronica’s daughter Jennifer, a 30-year-old ancient artifacts broker living in Geneva, Switzerland, wanted answers. She returned to LA and hired Clay Kirk, a private detective who specialized in finding adulterous spouses. In addition to seeking answers concerning the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Blair, Jennifer and Clay grapple with personal challenges.
Miller’s plot flows well, with short chapters in clear language. He crafts his story with small pieces of information, dropped like cookie crumbs for readers to follow at a relaxed pace. The gentle friendship that developed between Jennifer and Clay eased the pain of adjustments they made in their lives, which added depth to both characters. Several plot twists, including a shadowy figure in a black Fedora, helped deliver a novel complex enough to entertain without being convoluted. The story's time line makes it easy to follow and remember what happened from one chapter to the next.
The mystery is solved in the last few chapters, delivering a conclusion to satisfy Jennifer, Clay, and readers. However, a couple of minor questions remained unanswered. Perhaps Miller wanted readers to infer the answers, or maybe it didn’t matter in light of the story’s resolution. All in all, The Castle On The Cliff by John Anthony Miller makes an excellent choice for readers who enjoy engaging characters in a mystery novel that won’t put them to sleep or keep them up with night fright.