The Case of the Boarding House Murder: An Upson PI Mystery
Proving someone innocent of killing a boarding house tenant was easy. Case solved. Time to move onto the next one. Or so we thought.
What Maggie and I didn’t count on, digging into a four year old federal trial. What made this one so interesting, for me at least, my father had been the prosecutor. When all his personal papers disappeared we had to rely on the trial transcript. Except, we aren’t the only ones who wanted the testimony.
During the course of our investigation, Maggie and I discover the witnesses had been murdered even though the police reports had said otherwise. But, that’s not the worst. The body count will continue to rise if certain individuals aren’t stopped. But how? That we didn’t know.
Then, we uncover the secret these people are keeping. If they succeed their plan will have worldwide implications. Finally, the break we’d been looking for.
Where the money is coming from?
Can Maggie and I stop this global disaster from happening before we are murdered?
Strolling into the office I handed Maggie the magazine. The paper I kept for myself. Someplace in there I might find a lead to another case, that was if one didn’t walk through the door or call. In return she handed me a slip of paper with a name and telephone number. The name, Reginald Fitzwilliam, looked familiar, but from where I couldn’t recall. I decided to check the LA Social Register to see if he was listed.
“Was this on the answering machine?”
“No. He called a few minutes ago. Almost missed the call.”
“Working your magic with the coffee pot? Not that I’m complaining mind you.”
Besides being beautiful enough to be a starlet or model, with her platinum hair, not from a bottle, deep green eyes and a figure even the girls in high school were jealous of, Maggie brewed the best coffee in the world. She wouldn’t tell me her secret. Even though I’d asked.
“Yep. Call the guy back. Sounded like he was panicking over something. What, he wouldn’t tell me. When the coffee’s ready I’ll bring in a cup.”
In my office, formally the bedroom, I took out the book listing all the movers and shakers in the city. Finding the name, I read up on the man. Married. Commercial land developer. One child, a daughter named Alexandra.
I flopped down onto the chair behind the desk, picked up the telephone handset and dialed the number.
One ring. Two rings. My call was finally answered.
“Mr. Fitzwilliam this is Norton Upson. I’m returning your call.”
“Thank you for being so prompt. I need your help.”
That’s why people call me, you idiot.
“How can I be of assistance to you, sir?”
“Did you see the story in today’s newspaper buried on page five?”
Not wanting to plead ignorance and possibly lose a potential client, and a very rich one to boot, I cradled the handset against my shoulder, opened the paper to the page and saw-Suspect Arrested In Murder. That peaked my interest right off the bat. Quickly, I scanned the story. A man had been murdered at a boarding house on Albion Street. Not the best area but not the worst either. His throat had been slit from ear to ear. Jake Grayson had been arrested and charged with capital felony murder. The only thing missing, I couldn’t see any connection between the victim and Grayson.
“Yes sir, I quickly read the story. What’s the problem? From what I see the cops have the murderer.”
Maggie walked in with a mug of coffee. I mouthed a “thank you” and pointed to the chair beside my desk. She gave me a smile and sat.
“Except for the fact he didn’t do what the police claim and I have the evidence to prove him innocent.”
“Did you talk to the arresting officer?”
“Yes and even showed him the proof but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
About The Author
Life’s full of hiccups on the road of life and I had my fair share.
Growing up I also knew what I wanted to be. A Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. To start accomplishing my goal, while at UCLA besides my regular classes and ROTC I took several prelaw classes. My plan had been to do my military service then go to law school.
Then, the first hiccup came along. I was assigned to an Army intelligence group. From the very beginning I became hooked on the detailed work involved. Guess I must have gotten that from my dad who had been a federal prosecutor in Los Angeles. Anyways, instead of serving four years then go into the reserves I decided to stay in the Army.
Then, my second hiccup. July 7, 1937. I had been assigned to the embassy in China. When I was walking near the Marco Polo Bridge fighting broke out between Chinese and Japanese soldiers. I was shot in the leg and ended up getting discharged. With my injury becoming an FBI agent was out so I took what I learned in the Army and opened Upson Detective Agency.
Finally a great hiccup. I was walking down Rodeo Drive when I saw a familiar face. Maggie Neilson, my girl friend from high school, walked back into my life.
To find out more about Maggie and myself you’ll have to read the Upson PI Mystery books as we solve some of the most baffling cases ever to cross a private detective’s blotter.
In conclusion, everything I’ve written about me is fiction. Or is it? You decide.