Monterey Bay Malice - Bonus Chapter
As night fell, the lights strung across the festival grounds popped on, directing the crowd to the smaller side stage where they rippled across the lawn in a tightly packed surge of sequins, denim, floral crowns, blinking LED wristbands, and at least three dogs in neon vests. If the main stage hadn’t been obliterated by Beck’s fireworks finale, this little platform might’ve had a fighting chance. As it was, it looked like a brave toaster pressed into service as an industrial oven.
Dot had wrapped a dozen glow necklaces around her neck, and the shorter woman was easy to follow as she guided Amanda, Albert, Ben, Frank, and Grok through the crush with the authority of a woman who had elbowed her way into front-row spots at concerts for six decades.
“There!” Dot shouted over the roar, pointing at a wide waist-high stone wall near the sound booth. “I told you we’d get good seats!”
The sound techs turned around, already wearing the expression of people who had shushed Dot before. But Makenzie gave the group a wide smile, lifting the rope barrier into the rarified space. Dot winked back and squeezed herself onto the wall. Albert rolled up beside her, his wheelchair brakes clicking into place.
Amanda climbed onto the wall too, her pink sequined hooded sweatshirt catching the spinning lights. Grok rode up on his skateboard—his front leg in a tiny cast—rolling to a stop with a dramatic little kick-flip that he did not have permission from his doctor to attempt.
Ben, sleeves rolled down and top button fastened in funereal dignity. “This is… a lot of people,” he muttered as two teenagers nearby crowd surfed. He reached down and, with a strength born of wrestling dead bodies for a living, hefted Grok and the skateboard onto the wall next to Amanda before taking a seat beside them. The cat settled on his board, tail wrapped, and expression smug.
Frank plopped down next to Ben, his crisp navy jacket and khaki pants at odds with his rainbow plastic shoes, which squeaked every time he wiggled his toes. And he wiggled them a lot.
“Main show of the night,” Dot declared, hands on her hips. “Silver says they’re bringing the house down.”
“If the house doesn’t collapse first,” Albert noted, eyeing the slight trembling of the light rig.
The lights dimmed. The crowd screamed. Someone threw a glow stick that nearly clipped Frank.
Silver stepped onstage.
The audience erupted.
Amanda gasped.
Silver… sparkled.
His jacket was a metallic purple that matched his tinted shades. His boots were platformed and studded. The new guitar in his hands was so black and shiny it acted like a mirror, reflecting the image and energy of the audience back out to them.
Silver boomed into the mic, “Laaaaaadies, gentlefolks, and gentleman, I am Silver,” he had to wait for the audience’s screams to die down before he added, “and we are—THE ELECTRIC SANDWICH!”
The crowd roared again, and the band launched into a riff so powerful even Grok jolted upright, fur puffed.
“Whoa,” Grok whispered to Amanda and Dot. “Who knew the old man had it in him?”
Dot snorted. “Even if we’re the only ones who can hear you, fuzzball, don’t think I won’t put a young’un like you in your place.”
The music exploded into an upbeat, thrumming anthem, and even the stone wall vibrated. The whole field began to jump, sway, and stomp.
Before they knew it, the band was halfway through the third song, and Silver cued the band to slow the beat. The lights softened. The crowd went quiet.
“This next one,” Silver said, voice thick with emotion, “is dedicated to my beloved Mary, who was with me from the beginning.”
A hush fell.
Nancy, his ex-wife and backup singer, gave him a look so sharp it could have filed down his guitar strings.
Silver noticed. “—and to my ex-wife, Nancy,” he amended hurriedly. “Who… was also there. Standing. Near Mary, my favorite guitar.”
Nancy lifted her mic, nodded once, and the crowd laughed.
The slow ballad had just started when Amanda felt her phone buzz. She frowned, pulling it out.
Ben leaned closer. “Everything okay?”
Amanda stared at the caller ID. “It’s the vet clinic.”
She answered. “Hello?”
Even with the quieter song, she could barely hear the voice. “Hello, Amanda. This is Ryan calling from Dr. Klimmer’s office.”
Her stomach dipped.
“Oh—hi?”
“Hello?”
She tried again, pressing her finger to one ear and shouting, “Is something wrong?”
The techs turned around and shushed her with synchronized intensity.
“Yes.” His tone was firm, professional. “I need to schedule you to come in as soon as Dr. Klimmer returns. It is… urgent.” A small pause. “You should come at the earliest available appointment.”
Amanda’s pulse thudded.
“Is Grok okay?”
Ryan hesitated. “I am not qualified to answer that. But Dr. Klimmer was very adamant.”
Amanda swallowed. “Okay.” They quickly arranged a time and hung up.
Amanda stared at her phone. “Well. That’s… not ominous at all.”
Ben leaned in. “That is not normal. He shouldn’t have called like that. Clinics don’t use that wording unless it’s—” He stopped.
Grok stiffened. “What tests?”
Ben couldn’t understand him, but still his eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Grok
Amanda realized she hadn’t told the cat about the additional tests she had orders while he was unconscious. She exchanged a look with Dot.
Grok’s tail lashed playfully across Amanda’s hip. “We will talk about whatever has your human eye hair all pinched up, later.”
Amanda exhaled, then looked over the cat’s head at Ben. “The scheduler said it was urgent.”
Ben folded his arms. “In medicine, ‘urgent’ means one of two things: either it’s genuinely urgent…” He studied Grok, who was glaring at the stage like a feline rock critic. “…or something really weird showed up.”
Dot snorted. “Weirder than a 35-pound cat who walks and wears a silver bow-tie?”
The three stared at Grok.
Grok blinked.
Before anyone could respond, the music exploded into its loud chorus, and Amanda put her worry aside as Silver tore across the stage in a glorious, glittering swirl, voice belting, guitar screaming.
The song soared. It shredded. It obliterated.
Amanda grabbed Ben’s arm as the tempo intensified. Frank hopped so hard his rainbow shoes squeaked in rhythm. Dot climbed onto Albert’s lap in excitement. Albert threw his hands in the air, and Grok, startled, threw his paws up too, his cast making him wobble.
“This is AMAZING!” Dot shrieked, leaning forward so much that a tech reached back to steady her before she toppled. “I’m gonna throw my underwear!” she yelled.
“NO!” three techs shouted at once.
Dot paused. “Actually… they’re new. And very breathable. And they don’t ride up even when I’m on the motorcycle.” She thought for a long moment, then decided, “They are too expensive to sacrifice.”
Albert patted her knee. “Wise choice.”
At the song crescendo, people screamed.
The fog that had been blocking the moon and stars overhead pulled back and stars lit up the night sky above the crowd like even nature was moshing.
Albert whooped so loudly that two teenagers cheered with him.
Frank shouted, “THIS IS THE BEST NIGHT EVER!”
Dot grabbed Amanda’s hand. “Honey, you’re alive, we’re here, the festival’s open, and we’re hearing the best music we’ve had in this town since 1978!”
Amanda laughed, breathless. Held tight by her friends. Lit by the stage glow. Surrounded by joy. She felt, suddenly, undeniably, home.
The final note blasted through the speakers and the crowd erupted with wild applause and stomping feet.
Silver bowed. Nancy sang the closing harmony. The Electric Sandwich struck their last triumphant chord.
Amanda whooped with them, Grok yowled in approval, and Dot nearly toppled over, cheering.
For a moment—just a moment—the whole world pulsed with music and laughter and the electric thrill of possibility.
And even with mysteries unsolved, letters unopened, and a very unsettling vet appointment ahead…
Amanda felt ready for whatever came next.
The End
(Want more cozy mystery fun with Grok and Amanda? Check out their adventures in Monterey Bay Murder!)