Author Spotlight – Janet Elizabeth Lynn & Will Zeilinger and “Game Town”
I’d like to welcome a husband and wife author team back to the blog – say hello to Janet Elizabeth Lynn and Will Zeilinger!
Published authors Will Zeilinger and Janet Elizabeth Lynn write individually until they got together and created the Skylar Drake Mystery Series. These hard-boiled tales are based in old Hollywood of 1956-57. Janet has published seven mystery novels and Will has three plus a couple of short stories. Their world travels have sparked several ideas for murder and crime stories. This creative couple is married and live in Southern California.
The next Skylar Drake Mystery, GAME TOWN, the fifth and final book in the series, will be available April 15, 2019 and yes…we are still married!
Follow them at Janet’s website!
Their new novel is called GAME TOWN, and it will be released next Monday!
Skylar Drake and his partner are hired as bodyguards for two young starlets. They deliver the actresses home after the Oscar Awards ceremony, but stumble onto the murder of Silver Brovor-Smith, the mother of one of their charges, actress Holly Becker. Drake wonders why the FBI is on the scene when it looks like a simple case of murder.
Drake is now embroiled in the murder investigation of Silver Brovor-Smith. Suspicion shifts between her husband Peter Smith, and Silver’s three older brothers.
At every turn Drake and Dolan are lied to or misled. Kidnapping and mysterious deaths follow them as they weave their way through the maze of Hollywood’s movie and TV backroom deals. The FBI shows up to make sure Drake and Dolan keep the high-profile people involved from becoming front page news.
Drake meets and falls in love with Miss Anne the perfect woman to help him move on with his life. But is she a suspect? Then there is Holly’s friend, the sexy, young starlet Theresa Lee who has her own plans for him.
The letters P-E-G-O seem to appear everywhere, and Drake wonders if they have anything to do with Silver’s murder or her husband’s kidnapping
Follow the detective to Hollywood parties where the forbidden is accepted and the games played are for keeps.
Here’s a guest post from Janet…
1950s Scandal
The Melchior Robbery
by
Janet Elizabeth Lynn
My husband, Will Zeilinger and I co-write the Skylar Drake Murder Mysteries, a hardboiled Detective series that takes the reader to 1950s Los Angeles and other areas of the west. Our new book, GAME TOWN, is set in Hollywood and exposes a scandal that rocks the Toy Companies in Los Angeles.
While doing in-depth research into 1950s Hollywood, we came across news that shocked and amazed us. You can’t make this stuff up!
Lauritz Melchior was well known as a tenor, with in incredibly high range, and actor. On June 8, 1957 he was robbed in his Mulholland Drive home by four masked bandits. They forced their way into the home, tied up the singer, his wife, Maria and two of his household employees. They escaped with an estimated. $250,000 in cash, jewels and furs. Melchior ran after them when they were leaving in their car, but was too late.
The loot included crown jewels once belonging to Queen Anastasia, mother of King Frederick IX of Denmark. The Melchoirs had been visited earlier in the evening by several friends before the invasion. The police reported that the four men rang the door bell, a maid answered. They forced the maid to ring the doorbell again and this time Melchoir came to the door.
Wayne Burke, one of the gunmen was caught within the next few months. After several years the rest were apprehended. Alfred Pope was tried, convicted and sentenced to 6 months in prison, Richard Mc Fall sentenced to 5 year and Louis Spivak was sentenced for 5 years to life with a minimum term of 7 years. All charges against Burke were dropped because he cooperated with authorities and aided in the return of the property.
The $88,000 worth of furs and jewels were recovered.
Last, but not least, here’s an excerpt from their new book!
Two o’clock in the morning. I’d just left the Emmy Awards ceremony at the NBC Television Studio in Burbank. All of Hollywood and its finest had shown up tonight to honor the best of television for 1956. The winners and losers were either at a party celebrating or hiding somewhere licking their wounds. I’d just left the event driving south on Cahuenga toward Hancock Park. My partner, Casey Dolan was in the passenger seat. It was pouring rain when we left Burbank. It seemed to be lessening as we headed away from the valley.
We’d been hired by Epic Studios to escort a couple of their up and coming starlets to and from the event. In truth, we were their bodyguards. The motion picture and TV studios weren’t taking chances with their human investments.
The two young ladies in the back seat were passed out cold. I suspected they’d had a little too much Champagne before and during the ceremony.
I drove through the Wilshire Boulevard entry gate and onto Fremont Place, one of the most exclusive and expensive neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Ahead we spotted a lot of activity on the street. Dolan sat up and stared at the mess ahead, “What the Hell?”
Several police cruisers and what looked like government cars were lined up in front of a house with their spotlights trained on it. As we got closer, I saw the address. 859 in brass letter, wattached to the beam above the front door – the address where I was to deliver the girls.
Dolan rolled down his window to get a better look. He pulled his head back inside and said, “You sure this is the right house?”
I parked at the opposite corner. Dolan said, “I’ll stay here and keep watch on the girls.”
I sprinted up the wet sidewalk and ducked under the yellow police tape. A uniformed cop approached me and held up his hand like a traffic cop. “Sorry, sir. This is a police investigation. You’ll have to step back.”
I showed him my PI license and explained that I was a bodyguard for the two young ladies in my car and that I was to deliver them to this address.
He took a look at my credentials and shook his head, “Sorry sir…”
I heard a familiar voice.
“Drake, over here!” I almost didn’t recognize FBI special agent Olivia Jahns. She looked like she’d just stepped off the red carpet, poured into a slinky black evening gown. She held up one side of her long gown and made her way over to me.
“That’s all right officer.” She said, “I’ll take it from here.” He turned away while I followed Jahns into the mansion.
“Olivia…er, Agent Jahns. What’s this all about?”
She glanced back at me and said, “You’ll see. Just follow me.”
I stopped. “I meant the dress, the hair and…”
She too stopped and took a breath. “Come on Drake. You’re wearing a tuxedo. I can have fun too.” She continued to the front door. “Right now, we have a problem.”
Inside, the body of a woman in a pure white coat with a white fur collar was sprawled on the hardwood floor at the foot of a marble staircase. Her light blonde hair and fur coat were soaked with blood. The handle of a knife protruded from her waist. I bent down for a closer look. The blood in her hair was plastered to her face. Her mouth and hands were clenched. I detected a strong odor by the body. It wasn’t cherry, but it was sweet.
“Who is…?”
“The victim’s name is Silver Brovor-Smith.” Jahns interrupted me as most FBI agents do. “She’s the mother of Holly Becker, one of the young ladies in your charge.”
Brovor?…Brovor. Why did that name sound familiar? It dawned on me, “The Toy company Brovor?” I could visualize the logo – a big red circle with black and white letters.
“Yep.” Jahns nodded. “You got it.”
My mind raced. I remembered a lawsuit from years ago between family members after their father passed away. The papers had a field day with the scandal. I stood and asked Jahns, “You sure about Holly’s lineage?”
“Yup, no doubt, Brovor. Since you’re in charge of her, I’ll leave it up to you to break the news to the soon-to-be grieving daughter.”
We looked out the front door. The press had already gathered on the front lawn. Radio and Television remote trucks had set up their lights and equipment while the newspaper photographer’s flashbulbs blinded us. The reporters didn’t help the chaos as the street in front of the house was already jammed with the Coroner’s truck, loads of police cars and an ambulance. It seemed dark on the street. I looked up and saw that the street light was out. Strange that would happen on Fremont Place.
Jahns looked at me. “Why are you still here Drake?”
I headed for the door. It was late, and my brain had stopped working hours ago.
The two starlets came running past me, “No!” Holly yelled when she saw her mother’s body on the floor.
Theresa, the other young lady, shouted, “Oh my God. Oh my God!” She struggled to join her friend Holly, but Dolan had his hands full, holding her back from the scene.
“What are you doing here?” I yelled over the two young women’s screams. “You were supposed to keep them in the car.”
“Hey!” Dolan said, “There are two of them and only one of me.”
I took Holly by the shoulders and turned her away from the bloody scene. I hoped to say something comforting to her when she looked toward the stairway.
“What did you do to her?” Holly shouted at an older man wearing a white tuxedo coming down the stairs. Holly broke away from me and ran toward him. She began kicking and punching him, screaming, “What did you do to her!”
Several officers pulled her away, but she continued kicking and flailing, “You killed her!”
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