{"id":4417,"date":"2026-01-04T00:24:40","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:24:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/dead-west-goldman-matt\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T00:24:40","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T00:24:40","slug":"dead-west-goldman-matt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/dead-west-goldman-matt\/","title":{"rendered":"Dead West – Goldman, Matt"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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<\/span>1<\/b><\/h1>\n<\/header>\n

Beverly Mayer sat tall, strong, and upright. Her blue eyes sparkled. A pair of reading glasses hung around her neck from a gold chain. Her gray hair appeared long but was twisted and folded on top of her head like a challah. She wore a soft pink suit of thick wool. It looked European and expensive. She sat next to her husband of sixty-seven years. I know because that\u2019s how she introduced him. \u201cThis is Arthur, my husband of sixty-seven years.\u201d<\/p>\n

Arthur Mayer did not speak. He rode shotgun in a vehicle called marriage. He slumped shrunken in his suit made of brown herringbone tweed. His neck was too small for his white dress shirt\u2014the shirt didn\u2019t touch his neck the way Saturn\u2019s rings don\u2019t touch Saturn. His lower jaw jutted forward. Heavy black-framed <\/span>spectacles crept down his nose. A fingerprint marred the left lens. Arthur Mayer\u2019s eyes had shrunk, too, small and green like lima beans. A Band-Aid covered something on his forehead, as if his skin had worn thin in one spot and needed reinforcement. He clutched a black metal cane in his right hand and made no eye contact. But Arthur Mayer had great hair. Thick and silver and combed meticulously. It appeared he hadn\u2019t lost a strand since the Great Depression. I couldn\u2019t take my eyes off it.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you listening to me, Mr. Shapiro?\u201d said Beverly Mayer. She put a smile under her nose and said, \u201cMr. Shapiro?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m listening. Go ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Beverly Mayer said, \u201cOur grandson\u2019s fianc\u00e9<\/span>e died last week. Heart failure, they say. Imagine that. A twenty-eight-year-old who hadn\u2019t been sick a day in her life. Poor Ebben is devastated. We\u2019re already concerned about what he\u2019s doing with his trust fund out there in Hollywood. And now this girl, Juliana, goes and dies. It\u2019s bound to lead to imprudent decision making. For heaven\u2019s sake, the principal from which Ebben\u2019s trust fund grew was earned over 150 years ago. We will not sit idly and watch him squander a fortune like his father did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny foul play suspected in his fianc\u00e9<\/span>e\u2019s death?\u201d<\/p>\n

We sat in the Mayers\u2019 cavernous living room on St. Paul\u2019s Summit Avenue. The mansion was built by Frederick C. Fallhauser, lumber baron and grandfather of Beverly Mayer. It had 33,000 square feet of mahogany floors, oak-paneled walls, carved wooden ceiling beams, and leaded glass windows. It\u2019s the kind of place that, after the Mayers die, will have a gift shop and velvet ropes steering people to a gift shop that sells tickets for tours and commemorative coffee table books.<\/p>\n

Beverly said, \u201cThe police didn\u2019t suspect foul play. Apparently, <\/span>the girl had one of those eating disorders. I suppose they all do out there in Hollywood. Maybe she starved herself to death. But why she died is not really the point. The point is we\u2019d like to know what business dealings Ebben has got himself into. He\u2019s having an open house tonight to celebrate Juliana\u2019s life. I asked if Ebben meant a funeral. He said no, a celebration. I don\u2019t know what that is. Regardless, Arthur and I would like you to be there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn Los Angeles? Tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. It\u2019s only 7:00 A.M<\/small>. there. You have plenty of time to make it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at Arthur to see if he agreed but got nothing. He might have been sleeping with his eyes open. I said, \u201cAll right, well, I suppose I can get on a plane to Los Angeles and find out how Ebben is spending his money. But you do realize once he received the trust fund, it\u2019s his. He can do whatever he wants with it. You have no recourse against your grandson.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe have no legal recourse,\u201d said Beverly Mayer. \u201cThat I understand. But Arthur and I are still the heads of this family, and families are like small countries with their own rules and penalties when a member steps out of line. The good news for Ebben is he\u2019s our only grandchild. That makes him a wealthy man. The bad news for Ebben is he\u2019s our only grandchild. Our eyes are on him alone. Do you have children, Mr. Shapiro?\u201d<\/p>\n

The house smelled of wax and varnish. A radiator knocked and clanged. The old wooden floors creaked. I felt my early childhood in the air but had no idea why.<\/p>\n

I said, \u201cYes. I have a daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd how old is she?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s ten months old.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh my,\u201d said Beverly Mayer. \u201cYou started late. Young wife?\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/span>\u201cNo.\u201d That was true on two counts: the baby\u2019s mother was my age and she wasn\u2019t my wife. To explain how Evelyn Stahl-Shapiro came into this world would take too many minutes and looks of disapproval from the woman who thought families are like nation-states.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, good for you,\u201d said Beverly Mayer. \u201cYou\u2019re in for quite a ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m enjoying it already.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow,\u201d said Beverly Mayer, \u201cwhat I\u2019m about to tell you I\u2019ve already told to Mr. Ellegaard, but since you\u2019re the one going to Los Angeles, he advised I repeat it to you. He said you might pick up on something he missed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ellegaard was my business partner at Stone Arch Investigations. My tall, stoic, morally upright Scandinavian\u2014a mandatory fixture in any Minnesota enterprise.<\/p>\n

\u201cEbben received $50 million on his thirtieth birthday. Before that he behaved quite respectably. Brown University then an MBA at Wharton. He worked two years as an investment banker for Piper in New York City then returned home to work in private equity. He did everything he could to educate himself about money. But six months before his thirty-fifth birthday, he quit his job, let his hair grow, and stopped wearing suits and ties. Somehow he met a girl named Juliana Marquez, fell in love, and got engaged. They flew all over the world, taking meetings in Los Angeles and New York and London and Beijing of all places. When I ask what he\u2019s up to, he says some nonsense about exploring new opportunities.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think he\u2019s lying?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOnly by omission,\u201d said Beverly Mayer. She straightened her long spine. \u201cWhat I fear Ebben\u2019s not telling us is he\u2019s get<\/span>ting involved in the motion picture business. And I happen to know something about that business and how they prey on good people with money. My older sister, Grace, may she rest in peace, was quite beautiful and married a powerful agent at the William Morris Agency in New York. It was his job to find funding for films, and I heard him boast several times, quite coarsely, about getting fools to open their wallets because they so badly wanted to participate in show business. He used to say, \u2018The key is to get them spending. Invite them to parties with beautiful people. They\u2019ll feel lucky to be there even though they paid every dime for that party.\u2019 Then he would laugh and puff on his cigar. It\u2019s that cigar smoke that killed my sister. Vulgar habit. Vulgar man.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked to Arthur Mayer who had yet to make eye contact with me. He moved, so I knew he wasn\u2019t stuffed. I said, \u201cI can go to Los Angeles, Mrs. Mayer, but you might get better results hiring a private detective there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said without hesitation. \u201cI trust you. I trust Mr. Ellegaard. I\u2019ve spoken to half a dozen people who sing your praises. People I\u2019ve known for over half a century. People I trust. If you\u2019re smart enough to solve the Duluth Murders, you\u2019re smart enough to figure out Los Angeles. If you need help when you\u2019re there, then hire away. We will spare no expense.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust to make sure I understand: You will spare no expense to confirm your grandson, Ebben, is investing in show business? Because that\u2019s easy to find out. You could probably pick up the phone and ask him. I bet he tells you the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI have asked him, Mr. Shapiro. And he has denied it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought you said he lied by omission.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s not a direct denial. He just keeps saying something about new opportunities.\u201d<\/p>\n

<\/span>\u201cMaybe because it\u2019s too hard to explain. Maybe he\u2019s investing in virtual reality, augmented reality, or artificial intelligence.\u201d Beverly Mayer responded with the same blank expression as her husband\u2019s. I said, \u201cOr maybe Ebben\u2019s new opportunity isn\u2019t about business. Maybe it\u2019s about love.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, dear,\u201d said Beverly Mayer. \u201cYoung people no longer need love. The world today offers love\u2019s advantages \u00e0<\/span> la carte. No need to buy the whole shebang to get the few things you want.\u201d<\/p>\n

That got a response from Arthur Mayer. His eyes swung toward his wife then he exhaled what sounded close to, \u201cHuh?\u201d<\/p>\n

Beverly Mayer ignored her husband of sixty-seven years. She reached to the side table, grabbed an envelope, and handed it to me. On it, she had typed MR. SHAPIRO<\/small> with an actual typewriter. \u201cHere is Ebben\u2019s address in Los Angeles. He\u2019s rented a house for the winter. We\u2019ve also included a check for $25,000. That should cover your travel expenses and fee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s quite generous. Thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cArthur and I won\u2019t live forever, and the money will eventually go to Ebben anyway. We are more than willing to leave him a little less to straighten out that boy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Arthur Mayer sighed, either to communicate he agreed or to remind me he was alive.<\/p>\n

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I stepped out of the Mayer mansion and into mid-January. A perfect winter day. Three degrees, no wind, and bright sunshine in a sky so blue it\u2019d make the ocean green with envy. I put sunglasses on my face and walked down to Summit Avenue where I\u2019d parked my hockey mom mobile. I had planned on replacing <\/span>the Volvo station wagon with something less maternal, but since Evelyn was born, it had become too damn practical.<\/p>\n

A large man sat in my passenger seat. He wore a 5-XL parka, fur-lined aviator hat, sunglasses, and a scarf wrapped around his face. The rest of him was in there somewhere. I sat behind the wheel and said, \u201cWhy\u2019d you turn off the car? Get a little heat in here and you wouldn\u2019t have to wear everything you own from the big and tall man\u2019s shop.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI like being bundled up,\u201d said Jameson White, his voice muffled under his scarf. \u201cCan\u2019t do that when the heat\u2019s on. Get too sweaty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right if I turn the heat on while we\u2019re driving?\u201d<\/p>\n

The big man nodded. I started the car. He pulled the aviator hat from his head. His big Afro hit the car\u2019s ceiling. Jameson White was six foot seven inches tall\u2014his hair didn\u2019t have much room. He unwrapped his scarf, revealing a beard he\u2019d grown since leaving his job. A temporary leave, I hoped. I pulled onto Summit Avenue.<\/p>\n

Jameson said, \u201cWhat took you so long in there?\u201d I handed Jameson the envelope from Beverly Mayer. He read, \u201cMr. Shapiro<\/i>. We going to visit your dad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. We\u2019re going to Los Angeles.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/section>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview \u00a0 1 Beverly Mayer sat tall, strong, and upright. Her blue eyes sparkled. A pair of reading glasses hung around her neck from a gold chain. Her gray hair appeared long but was twisted and folded on top of her head like a challah. She wore a soft pink suit of thick wool. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4416,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[281],"class_list":["post-4417","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-matt-goldman"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4417","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4417"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4417\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4416"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4417"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4417"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4417"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}