Ghost Ups Her Game Page 16

  I knocked. The door swung in. Robert’s expression was not welcoming. I would go so far as to say he looked downright hostile. He looked, in fact, as if he beheld something that was a cross between a tarantula and an evil sprite.

  Before the door could close, I slipped past him, talking as I moved. ‘Oh Gage, I’m sure you’re Gage, so sorry we’ve not met before. But your mother was sure you would be here. Not a good night to be alone in a dorm. And Robert,’ I turned to favor him with an approving smile despite his glower, ‘is a fine young man. Glad to do everything he can to help you and Iris at this difficult time.’ I was across the room and sitting beside Gage. ‘I just left your mother—’

  Gage’s face lit up. ‘Is Mom home? Why didn’t she call? Didn’t they give her back her cell phone?’ She started to get up.

  I put a restraining hand on her arm, a young, thin arm. ‘Oh, I wish that were so. I received special dispensation to speak with her at the jail. It helps to have friends in high places.’

  Robert looked befuddled. ‘Special dispensation? Isn’t that like something religious?’

  If all worked out and Gage eventually became Mrs Robert Blair, Iris would surely have to be patient with Robert’s literal mindset.

  ‘Not quite that high. In any event, I’m here to ask you and Robert to do some investigating to help your mom. She told me that she arrived at the park this afternoon and hurried straight to the carousel and immediately found Nicole Potter’s body. At that instant, she called nine-one-one. If we can find a witness who saw her park and walk to the carousel and immediately use her cell phone, it will be some proof that Nicole was dead when she arrived and that your mother’s actions didn’t afford enough time for her to climb aboard the carousel, speak with Nicole, strike her down, and hurry to the lake to toss away the weapon.’

  Robert stood a little to one side of the sofa, hands jammed in the pockets of ratty jeans. ‘Possible witness tampering.’ He sounded gloomy.

  Gage glanced from him to me. Her eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t want to do anything to mess things up for Mom. I don’t know you.’

  I gave her a brilliant smile. ‘I’m Bailey Ruth Raeburn and of course your mom has many friends from Fort Sill.’ Two true statements. ‘I happen to be in town and I heard she was in trouble.’ I talked fast before Robert, who was still frowning, demanded to know how I found out about her arrest. The literal of the world have a passion for connecting dots. I can be creative, but even I have my limits. ESP? A text? Why me? As Robert’s mouth opened, I moved to forestall him. ‘Your mom absolutely approves of my plan. And to confirm I spoke with her, she told me Aunt Winnie’s secret to success at a Kool-Aid stand.’

  Gage waited.

  ‘Two black licorice strips with each glass of Kool-Aid.’

  Gage’s face lit up. ‘You did talk to Mom. Is she OK? How does she look? What did she say?’

  ‘You know your mom. Unflappable. She said you aren’t to worry, she’s fine.’ Actually, Iris said, ‘Make sure she’s with Robert. She’ll have him to hold to if I’m charged.’

  ‘What’s your plan?’ Robert still stood, head lowered, as if he watched the approach of an anaconda.

  ‘I have two tasks for you. One tomorrow. One tonight. Tomorrow I want you and Gage to arrive at White Deer Park by, oh, six a.m. Because it’s Saturday.’

  I saw Robert trying to figure out why Saturday required arrival at an obscenely early hour.

  ‘On Fridays people work. Some of those who were in the park late in the afternoon can go much earlier on Saturday to jog or walk or take the dogs. I want you to spend the day there. Talk to every person who comes to the park. Say you’re seeking Adelaide’s Most Observant Citizen. If you were in the park yesterday between four and five, who did you see, where, when, for how long, what did they do? Make up a contest. Say it’s a fun competition for the leadership class at Goddard. Hand out prizes. Fill a cooler with popsicles. Take a picture of each person with their popsicle and record the interview on your phone.’

  Robert looked glum. ‘False representation.’

  Gage was tart. ‘We aren’t defrauding anybody. Actually we’ll hand out free popsicles. I can see,’ her eyes were shining, ‘how this may make everything OK for Mom. This is great.’

  Robert still looked glum. His mop of tawny hair, big brown eyes, and air of frustrated willingness to do whatever he could for Gage held great appeal, but I hoped his mouth didn’t get a permanent downward slant.

  Gage clapped her hands together. ‘OK, that’s tomorrow. What are we doing tonight?’

  The less Robert knew about tonight the better. I stood up. ‘I have a few things to check before we set out. Try to get a little rest, maybe a good snack. I’ll be back at two a.m.’

  Robert didn’t look glum. He looked horrified. ‘Two a.m.?’ His mother must have told him ghoulies and ghosts were abroad at that hour. I can’t speak for ghoulies and I surely prefer not to encounter them, but one ghost assuredly would be very busy then.

  I gave him an encouraging smile as I hurried toward the door. ‘Just a few preparations to make. Be out in front in Robert’s car at two a.m. Wear dark clothes.’

  THIRTEEN

  José Altuve, all five feet six inches of him, whipped his bat and the ball sailed over the Crawford boxes, clearing the bases. As Astros players loped around the base pads, George Kirk upended a heavy tumbler, watched the huge screen, his face set in grim, hard lines. Baseball was not big on his mind this night.

  Upstairs, I stood inside Melissa Kirk’s dark bedroom, listened. Utter silence. I flicked the light. The bed was unoccu-pied. The disarray, scattered clothes, overflowing wastebasket, made the room cheerless, uninviting. Dinner out had stretched into a late hour.

  Camille sat in an easy chair in her room, a sketchpad in her lap. The drawing captured the energy and movement in the partial figure of a cat crouched to spring. Instead of a nightgown, she wore shorty pjs, a candy-stripe top, pink shorts. I liked her house shoes, cerise with a feathery border. Her heart-shaped face was tinged by sadness, uncertainty, the pencil slack in her hand.

  The coast was clear to reconnoiter the kitchen. I flicked on the light and turned to the wall above the kitchen counter. I had remembered correctly. An old-fashioned yellow landline telephone was attached to the wall. The kitchen was updated with granite countertops, new cabinetry with brass pulls, and laminated wood flooring. Just to be sure, l lifted the receiver, heard a dial tone. Reassured that the phone was in working order, I hung up.

  I tried several drawers, found a catch-all drawer. I selected a thin flashlight. The narrow beam would be adequate and the light would not – I glanced toward a window – be visible outside. I unlocked the back door, placed the flashlight on the ground next to the bottom back step. I closed the back door, left it unlocked.

  At Rose Bower, I once again settled in The Gusher room. In addition to the huge kitchen for banquet preparations, Rose Bower had a small kitchen which was always prepared for requests from honored guests in second-floor rooms. The kitchen was manned by part-time help. Possibly the operation was sophisticated enough that a room service call might be answered with a smooth, ‘How may I help you, Mr, Mrs, Ms …?’ But if a call came from a room without a guest registered, I doubted it would occur to room service that the caller was an interloper. The waiter would simply assume the guest would be included in an updated list.

  I picked up the receiver, punched room service, ordered a cheeseburger, lettuce, tomato, and avocado with Thousand Island dressing, French fries, coffee, two dips of vanilla, extra chocolate syrup.

  I was famished. And weary. I needed all the energy a good meal could provide. I settled at the desk, opened the center drawer. Rose Bower stationery was quite handsome, thick creamy paper. I shook my head. Roses spilled over the side of a basket in a lovely design at the top of the page. I wanted no identifying information on the sheet. Not that I intended for this missive to be left in the Kirk kitchen, but mistakes happen. I opened a side drawer and ther
e, pristine and perfect, was a fresh legal pad. If ever I had the opportunity I would commend the staff at Rose Bower for its thoughtfulness in providing amenities for guests.

  I sat at the desk deep in thought for several minutes. I wanted drama but I should be concise. I would be at Gage’s side, but I intended to leave nothing to chance. I printed in large letters all cap:

  SHE WAS MURDERED

  A knock at the door.

  I popped up, pleased at the quick service, and rushed to the door. I grabbed the knob and opened the door.

  A cute girl with brown pigtails and a sweet smile held a tray. She looked puzzled as she gazed into the well-lighted but clearly unoccupied room.

  Uh-oh. I wasn’t visible. I backed up, called out, ‘Come right in. In the bathroom. Put the tray on the desk.’

  The girl blinked. She walked slowly toward the desk, her gaze moving from the bathroom door to the open hall door. She was pondering. The door opened, but no guest stood over the threshold. How did the guest move that quickly from the hall door into the bathroom?

  She was almost at the desk.

  Uh-oh. The legal pad lay there, a pen beside it. In a flash I was at the desk. ‘Please close the door.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ But she was already reaching out to move the legal pad. I imagine she intended to close the door as soon as she deposited the tray. The tray stopped a few inches from the surface.

  Her eyes grew huge as she read my printing.

  SHE WAS MURDERED

  I moved to stand between her and the open door. I Appeared in a pink striped seersucker robe and matching pink flip flops. ‘Just push that aside. Working on a mystery, you know.’

  She glanced at the legal pad, at me standing between her and the hall, turned her head toward the open bathroom door. ‘You came out of the bathroom?’ She spoke through stiff lips. Anyone leaving the bathroom would be in her full field of vision.

  I gave a little wave of my hand. As Mama always told us kids, ‘If it couldn’t happen, it didn’t happen.’ I asked brightly, ‘Do you read mysteries?’

  She balanced the tray on one hand, gingerly moved the legal pad with the other. She put the tray down. ‘No.’ Her voice was a little ragged. She backed up, her eyes darting from me to the bathroom door to the legal pad. She edged past me. At the door, she whirled and plunged into the hall. Running steps sounded.

  I closed the door. I bolted it, although I doubted the room server would share her experience. By the time she reached the kitchen, she’d have figured out an explanation. She’d been looking down when I exited the bathroom. Maybe the printed words were HE WAS MERLIN.

  I returned to the desk, lifted the cover. Mmmm. I sat down, grabbed the bun with my left hand, took a bite, picked up my pen. The statement had to be perfect.

  No light glimmered in the Kirk house, dark windows, dark rooms. I made a final quick check of the ground floor and the second-floor bedrooms. George was sprawled on his stomach, his pillow toppled to the floor. Melissa curled in a ball. The Lab lifted his head and looked at me. Camille lay on her right side, cheek pressed against the pillow. Deep slumber should keep the residents in their rooms.

  Downstairs, I eased out the back door. Still unlocked. I left the door ajar. An owl hooted. The water in the pool glimmered in the moonlight. I walked on an asphalt path down the hillside toward White Deer Park, making sure there were no obstacles. I carried with me a folded sheet from the legal pad. The sheet moved through the air, held aloft by my unseen hand. I’d brought the sheet with me from The Gusher room to the Kirk house. Unlike the evening at the banquet, there was no danger anyone would see the sheet. Not at this hour of the morning. At the edge of the woods, I judged that the pier parking lot was only twenty feet away. A perfect location.

  I avoided the streetlight at the corner near Robert’s apartment. I waited in the darker shadows below an elm. I Appeared dressed in black, blouse, linen slacks, sneakers. After I tucked my hair beneath a black cap, I tucked the folded sheet from the legal pad in a pocket. At precisely two a.m., headlights eased around the corner. Robert’s black Toyota sedan drew up to the curb in front of the apartment house. I hurried, opened the rear door, slid inside.

  Two faces turned toward me. In the light from the opening door, I took a quick look. Robert appeared wary. His gloomy expression indicated he didn’t like the hour, the circumstances, or me. Gage was alight with anticipation and readiness for action.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Gage’s voice was energetic and eager.

  ‘Everything’s closed at two a.m.’ Robert sounded grim.

  ‘Go to the parking lot by the pier in White Deer Park.’

  ‘Why?’ He sounded grimmer.

  ‘That’s where you’ll wait for Gage and me.’

  ‘You can’t go to the carousel.’ He bristled with resistance.

  I was patient. ‘We have no intention of going to the carousel. In fact, we are headed in the opposite direction. Gage and I will take a short stroll up the hillside. She is going to deliver a message that will help her mother. Let’s get started. We don’t want to be late.’

  The car eased away from the curb. ‘You’re going to talk to somebody at this time of night?’ His tone suggested disbelief that assistance for Iris could possibly occur in the woods long past midnight.

  I was tempted to tell Robert in a cheery tone that it was actually early morning. But we needed a chauffeur. ‘Don’t worry. Everything is arranged.’ If he understood this to mean Gage and I were expected by someone, that was his privilege.

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ A flat, determined declaration.

  ‘That’s so sweet of you.’

  Mama would have said, ‘Missy, you can’t fool me with that sugar voice.’ I never doubted I could fool Robert. ‘We would love to have you with us but the instructions were strict. Only Gage and me. But we won’t take long and Gage can tell you everything when we come back to the car.’ Robert would be horrified when he knew, assuming all went well and we returned as I planned, but the mission would be a fait accompli.

  ‘Just a few minutes?’ He sounded more positive. The car turned into the park, began to curl around the lake toward the lot by the pier.

  ‘Possibly ten minutes, Not much longer.’ I spoke as if I planned an outing to a Sunday school picnic.

  The Toyota slid to a stop. Robert chose a parking spot in the dark shadows of some pines at the far end near an exit. Obviously, he feared he was part of a nefarious excursion.

  Gage and I walked swiftly to the edge of the woods and the path that curved up the hillside.

  ‘Who are we meeting?’ she whispered.

  ‘We aren’t meeting anyone. We are going to use the phone in a kitchen and make a call. I have the number. I’ll hold a flashlight and you are to read exactly what is on the sheet of paper. You are not to reveal your identity.’

  She stood still. ‘This doesn’t sound right.’

  ‘It is right. You’ll understand when we’re done.’

  She didn’t move,

  I said, ‘Black licorice.’

  We started up the hillside. Moonlight slanting through the trees made it easy to keep to the path. When we reached the Kirk terrace, I put a hand on her arm. ‘Wait here while I make sure everything is ready.’

  I hurried to the back steps, bent, picked up the flashlight. I crept up the steps, opened the screen, pushed the unlatched door. The door swung in. Ahead lay darkness. I risked a quick flash. The door to the hall was closed.

  I returned to the edge of the terrace. I spoke softly but urgently. ‘We are going into the kitchen of that house.’ I nodded toward the dark structure looming across the flagstones. ‘There are people asleep upstairs. We aren’t going to cause any disturbance or take anything. What matters is that this phone call originates in this house. Let’s go.’

  I put a hand on her slender arm. She hesitated for an instant before she drew in a quick breath and took a step. We moved together across the terrace. I led the way up the back steps. I e
ntered the kitchen first and held the door open for her as I turned on the flashlight. I pointed the beam of light at the yellow phone mounted on the wall. I whispered, ‘There’s the phone.’

  I led the way to the counter. I pulled the folded sheet from my pocket. Training the light on the phone, I punched in the Crime Stoppers number. I handed Gage the receiver and the flashlight. She held the receiver in her right hand, the flashlight in her left hand. I unfolded the sheet and placed it on the counter below the phone. She aimed the light down on the sheet.

  Holding the receiver to her ear, she stepped closer to the counter so she could read the printed words. Her eyes widened and I knew she was hearing the Crime Stoppers recorded answer, which encouraged informants to provide information about criminal activity and promised confidentiality. In big cities Crime Stoppers is monitored 24/7 but Adelaide is a small town. Everyone knows to call 911 in an emergency.

  ‘Speak clearly.’ My tone was firm.

  She stared at the sheet, read aloud, ‘I have to tell someone.’ Full stop, a sharp look at me.

  I gave an emphatic nod, pointed at the receiver. ‘Read.’

  ‘Evelyn was murdered’ – Gage’s voice rose – ‘on 20 March. The stuff in the glass of lemonade killed her. Matt Lambert …’ Eyes huge, Gage looked at me, at the sheet. She struggled to breathe.

  ‘Keep going.’

  Gage had no inkling until this moment what the statement contained. Her uneven voice and halting delivery reflected her shock. No wonder her voice wobbled and rose higher as she understood why Matt Lambert was killed.

  ‘Matt Lambert saw the person who brought the glass. He watched Evelyn drink the contents. Evelyn didn’t add anything to the glass.’

  I was attuned to everything around us, to our shadows on the wall, to the narrow shaft of light illuminating the sheet from the legal pad, to Gage’s uneven breathing.