hidden, piece of lakefront property.
There were eight cabins in total, each painted a different color. And when the primaries ran out, the colors didn’t get much more creative after that. Each sported a chimney. Walkways led from the parking lot to the cabins. The walkways were beautifully manicured, with flowers and drought-resistant shrubs, all pruned neatly. Each cabin would have a beautiful view of the lake. I had a very strong desire to stay in one of the cabins, a desire that wasn’t entirely work-related. And the image of Kingsley and I cuddled in bed, with the blinds open and the water lapping just outside was most certainly not work-related.
Before us was a private dock, upon which was tethered a wood-paneled longish boat that looked antique. It also looked very well-maintained.
“Built in 1947,” said Roy, either picking up on my thoughts or following my line of sight. “My dad worked at the boatyard that built it, right here in Elsinore. You’ll notice it’s long and thin. The design was later used as the model for various ocean liners, back in the day.”
I made appropriate noises that suggested I was suitably impressed. He next pointed out that he and his family lived in the big Victorian. Guests could come and go in the main house, as they pleased, where drinks and snacks were always made available. Breakfast was served up by his wife. Drinks in the evening were served up by him, he said, adding a wink and a smile.
I smiled, too, and inhaled the simmering, algae-scented air. Not a bad spot. Not a bad spot at all.
That is, until I saw the tall man moving between the cabins, pushing a wheelbarrow before him. He looked back over his shoulder, then continued between the cabins.
“That’s Ivan, my groundskeeper,” said Roy. “Doesn’t say much, but does a helluva fine job.”
I nodded, not saying much either. Mostly because I had noticed that Ivan wasn’t giving off an aura.
“Now,” said Roy, rubbing his hands, “would you like a tour of the lake?”
“Boy would I.”
Chapter Four
The lake was quiet.
All those busy streets that surrounded the lake? Only a distant memory. And all those crazy drivers whipping through traffic? Part of another world entirely.
Here, in this gently rising and falling antiquated skiff, the world consisted only of a nicely tuned engine and waves slapping the wooden hull. In a blink, Roy went from client to tour guide. He pointed out a beautiful old plantation-style home overlooking the lake, once the home of Bela Lugosi. Clark Gable had come often to fish and duck hunt. William Hart, the top Western silent film star, lived there in that old house. And an old Moorish-looking castle was built by the founder of the International Church of Christian Gospel, Aimee McPherson, aptly called Aimee’s Castle. I’d never heard of such a church or of her, but the massive structure looked beautiful. It had been privately purchased by an eccentric scientist nearly a decade ago. Lucky bastard.
More stories, and more celebrities. Steve McQueen had hung out just beyond there with his motorcycle pals, often frequenting a downtown bar called The Wreck. Frank Morgan, who had played the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz , vacationed here often. They referred to him as The Wiz.
Movies were filmed here: King Solomon’s Mines with Richard Chamberlain; Norwood with Glen Campbell, Joe Namath, and Dom DeLuise; And the Children Shall Lead with Levar Burton.
These days, celebrities came for the speedboat races and to skydive. Once, a Kardashian had vacationed in one of his cabins. He hadn’t known what a Kardashian was at the time. Still didn’t.
We continued slowly, as the sun danced off the gently rolling wake. There were only a handful of boats out, being midday and midweek. Elsinore was, apparently, a weekend destination.
Earl Stanley Gardner, of Perry Mason fame, had sometimes set his novels on Lake Elsinore. Roy’s now-deceased aunt used to work for Earl as his personal
There were eight cabins in total, each painted a different color. And when the primaries ran out, the colors didn’t get much more creative after that. Each sported a chimney. Walkways led from the parking lot to the cabins. The walkways were beautifully manicured, with flowers and drought-resistant shrubs, all pruned neatly. Each cabin would have a beautiful view of the lake. I had a very strong desire to stay in one of the cabins, a desire that wasn’t entirely work-related. And the image of Kingsley and I cuddled in bed, with the blinds open and the water lapping just outside was most certainly not work-related.
Before us was a private dock, upon which was tethered a wood-paneled longish boat that looked antique. It also looked very well-maintained.
“Built in 1947,” said Roy, either picking up on my thoughts or following my line of sight. “My dad worked at the boatyard that built it, right here in Elsinore. You’ll notice it’s long and thin. The design was later used as the model for various ocean liners, back in the day.”
I made appropriate noises that suggested I was suitably impressed. He next pointed out that he and his family lived in the big Victorian. Guests could come and go in the main house, as they pleased, where drinks and snacks were always made available. Breakfast was served up by his wife. Drinks in the evening were served up by him, he said, adding a wink and a smile.
I smiled, too, and inhaled the simmering, algae-scented air. Not a bad spot. Not a bad spot at all.
That is, until I saw the tall man moving between the cabins, pushing a wheelbarrow before him. He looked back over his shoulder, then continued between the cabins.
“That’s Ivan, my groundskeeper,” said Roy. “Doesn’t say much, but does a helluva fine job.”
I nodded, not saying much either. Mostly because I had noticed that Ivan wasn’t giving off an aura.
“Now,” said Roy, rubbing his hands, “would you like a tour of the lake?”
“Boy would I.”
Chapter Four
The lake was quiet.
All those busy streets that surrounded the lake? Only a distant memory. And all those crazy drivers whipping through traffic? Part of another world entirely.
Here, in this gently rising and falling antiquated skiff, the world consisted only of a nicely tuned engine and waves slapping the wooden hull. In a blink, Roy went from client to tour guide. He pointed out a beautiful old plantation-style home overlooking the lake, once the home of Bela Lugosi. Clark Gable had come often to fish and duck hunt. William Hart, the top Western silent film star, lived there in that old house. And an old Moorish-looking castle was built by the founder of the International Church of Christian Gospel, Aimee McPherson, aptly called Aimee’s Castle. I’d never heard of such a church or of her, but the massive structure looked beautiful. It had been privately purchased by an eccentric scientist nearly a decade ago. Lucky bastard.
More stories, and more celebrities. Steve McQueen had hung out just beyond there with his motorcycle pals, often frequenting a downtown bar called The Wreck. Frank Morgan, who had played the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz , vacationed here often. They referred to him as The Wiz.
Movies were filmed here: King Solomon’s Mines with Richard Chamberlain; Norwood with Glen Campbell, Joe Namath, and Dom DeLuise; And the Children Shall Lead with Levar Burton.
These days, celebrities came for the speedboat races and to skydive. Once, a Kardashian had vacationed in one of his cabins. He hadn’t known what a Kardashian was at the time. Still didn’t.
We continued slowly, as the sun danced off the gently rolling wake. There were only a handful of boats out, being midday and midweek. Elsinore was, apparently, a weekend destination.
Earl Stanley Gardner, of Perry Mason fame, had sometimes set his novels on Lake Elsinore. Roy’s now-deceased aunt used to work for Earl as his personal
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