Page 3 of All Signs Point to Malibu

Four meetings with Kirk and his coach. Four expensive steak dinners. Four long, polished presentations on the benefits of life coaching...and I teed it up for Spencer Stanley to swoop in and seal the deal. I should have insisted on a signed contract at our last meeting when it seemed as though I had him on the hook.

Didn’t I learn anything from watchingJerry Maguirea dozen times as sports research?

A minute of wallowing then onward and upward.

I pull the foam finger off, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and namaste Spencer right out of my mind.

“Checking out the competitor, smart.”

My eyes spring open and my health tracker warns of a pending heart attack. At least it’s registering this time.

“Alice? What the hell?” More professionally, “I mean, how did you get in here?”

Alice Kline, a former client and adorably neurotic bestselling author, simply shrugs as she stands in front of me. “Climbed in through the window.” She gestures at the one open behind me.

I’ll be repositioning my desk to face the window ASAP, feng shui be damned.

“I rang the front gate, but power’s still out along your street. Manuel let me in,” she says.

So much for my gardener’s Christmas bonus this year.

I shouldn’t be surprised by this unexpected, outside-the-box entrance. Alice is a low-grade stalker who solicited my services by following me to Whole Foods for my daily grocery pickup for a solid three months before finally approaching me about coaching at my semiannual gyno appointment. Sounds creepy, but anyone who subjects themselves to a Pap smear to get my attention is worthy of fifteen minutes of my time. That kind of dedication is admirable—the single-minded determination I look for in potential clients.

Still. “Alice, we’ve talked about boundaries.”

“I know, but I need more time,” she says with a hint of desperation, rearranging the objects that the tremor knocked from my desk.

Now that my pulse has returned to a less worrisome rate, I notice she’s wearing old sweats with what I assume are coffee stains on the front. Her hair is piled high in a messy bun and the undeniable scent of a cheap dry shampoo auras around her. The vein in her forehead is pronounced and dark circles under her eyes suggest she hasn’t been sleeping.

She’s spiraling and I’d like to help, but... “I’ve explained how my services work. Six-month contract. No extensions.”

Messing with fate is a delicate balancing act. I can set my clients on the right path or help them avoid the wrong one, but then it’s up to them. Thinking about the ripple effects just one small suggestion has on the universe is anxiety attack inducing.

Alice sits across from me, undeterred. She takes out a copy ofMurder by the Dozenfrom a deep sweatpants pocket and places it on the desk. I pick it up and reluctantly give in to the temptation to smile. This book and the previous bestsellers almost didn’t happen, but they are truly addictive and imaginative.

“Thanks for bringing me an advanced copy. Signed?”

Alice nods, but her knees bounce as she scans the office.

“Are you all prepped for the launch?” I ask as I get up and place the book next to the others on my “client pride” shelf. This collection is my joy—I cherish it more than the one showcasing my own awards and achievements. The client shelf actually exemplifies hard work, grit, determination, and perseverance.

“Yeah, I guess...” Alice mumbles, biting her nails.

Against my better judgment I ask, “What’s going on?” I sit down and give her my full attention, though waiving my own rules makes me more than a little uneasy.

Never let anyone get too close or stay too long.

“I want to write something different. Something a little out there...” she says.

“Out there?”

“A sci-fi Western romance.”

I nod slowly, try to wrap my mind around it. “In addition to the bestselling mystery series? Under a pen name?”

Alice shakes her head. “I don’t want to write the Cookbook Murder series anymore. After ten books, I’m tapped out. There’s only so many ways to murder a person with a spatula.”

I’m failing to come up with even one.

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