Ghost in Trouble (2010) Page 9

  I swirled into being. I chose a lime green blouse with a dramatic flared collar and cropped twill slacks. Multistrapped leather sandals matched the blouse. Summer clothing is always cheerful, especially when fresh and new. No ensemble could be fresher or newer than mine. I am not claiming superiority in appearance. That would be too much of the earth. I smoothed a sleeve, marveling in the silky feel of the cotton.

  Kay didn’t react to my physical presence. She stood in the middle of the gazebo, hands on her hips. “I’m going to talk to Jimmy next.”

  Sycamores shaded the gazebo, but offered little respite from the heat. However, I like hot weather, and I adore the rasp of cicadas. “Gwen Dunham is more important.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Kay demanded.

  I smiled. “Heaven.” I spoke the simple truth.

  Kay did not smile.

  I observed her with a kindly expression. “Even your fine bone structure lacks charm when your features are set in what can only be described as mulish obstinacy.”

  She ignored me and paced the perimeter of the gazebo, muttering to herself, “Idiotic imagination. Why do I keep seeing her?”

  “Because I’m here.” I pirouetted, humming “I’m Looking Over a Four-Leaf Clover.”

  She faced me, her gaze resistant. “You insisted we come out here. What is this supposed to tell me?”

  Her refusal to acknowledge me made conversation difficult. Truth is always the best policy. Sometimes truth is even believed. “I want to discuss our next step, and I’m tired of being invisible. As I’ve told Wiggins, I’m not at my best when I’m invisible.”

  “Certainly it’s important you be at your—” She broke off, stared. “Wiggins?”

  “My supervisor. Let’s leave it at that.”

  “Oh, no. Come on, Bailey Ruth, level with me.”

  Since Kay never believed what I said, I saw no harm in explaining the Department of Good Intentions, the old-fashioned train station, and the Rescue Express.

  She listened with flattering attention.

  “…so you see, you’ve been specially chosen for protection.”

  “Yeah. I’m special. I’m so special my mind is splintering.” Her tone was morose. She looked warily about. “Is Wiggins lurking around, too?”

  I sincerely hoped not. “Not usually. He permits his agents great independence. Normally I wouldn’t dream of appearing.” Are you listening, Wiggins? “But it’s such a lovely morning.” Besides, I might know I was wearing a stylish outfit, but I liked to see it as well. I dropped my gaze to my sandals. The shade of green was glorious, almost translucent, like sunlight spearing through green glass.

  I gave Kay a reassuring smile. “You’d like Wiggins.”

  “I’m sure I would. The more the merrier.”

  “Sarcasm isn’t becoming.”

  She cuffed the side of her head. “Now I’m scolding me. All right, redheaded brain wave. What’s your plan?”

  “You need to talk to Gwen Dunham.”

  “Oh.” Her huff was derisive. “Dumb idea, brain wave. You’re caught up in Shannon’s romantic nonsense. Even Jack couldn’t sweep a woman into a passionate love affair in the space of three weeks and reach the point of dramatic scenes. Besides, scenes weren’t his style. He was too cool for that.” There were memories in her eyes, not all of them good.

  “Shannon saw them quarreling.”

  Kay shrugged. “Shannon probably saw what she wanted to see. I’ll talk to Gwen Dunham, but she’s not high on my list. As far as I’ve been able to figure out, she scarcely knew Jack. Actually”—she looked grim—“Shannon ranks close to the top. Nobody loves—or hates—like a twentysomething. How hurt was she by Jack’s turndown? And how angry? I want to talk to her mother, see what I can find out. After that, I’ll—”

  Footsteps sounded on the gazebo steps.

  Both Kay and I swung to look.

  I’d been engrossed in our conversation. Wiggins would not see that fact as an excuse. He would point out that my stubborn habit of appearing had now come home to roost.

  Diane Hume reached the top step. Sprigs of blond hair poked from beneath a huge straw hat. The cuffs of her long-sleeved smock were tucked into gardening gloves. She carried a straw basket brimming with cut flowers. “Kay”—Diane’s voice was high and breathless—“that police chief is here. He’s talking to Evelyn. He wants to see you. Oh.” She gave me a shy smile. “Hello.”

  Kay looked slowly from me, back to Diane. “You see her?” The words were unsteady.

  Diane looked surprised. “Did I come at a bad time? I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t know you were having a private meeting. What do you want me to tell that policeman?”

  I felt I had no choice. It was time to seize the moment. Was I being led? Possibly I’d underestimated Wiggins’s openness to innovation. Perhaps he was coming around to my view. Sometimes an emissary had to be onstage. In two quick strides, I reached Diane. I offered my hand. Oh. I took an instant to redo the polish. Pink is much more summery than red. “Hi, I’m Francie de Sales, and I just arrived.”

  I hoped the patron saint of writers approved of my nom de plume.

  Kay made an inarticulate noise somewhere between a gasp and a moan. “Francie…”

  I gave her a sharp nod. I had no intention of being identified publicly as Bailey Ruth Raeburn. There’s a memorial column for me and Bobby Mac in the cemetery by St. Mildred’s with Serendipity chiseled on the hull of the dearest carving of a cabin cruiser and the inscription: Forever Fishing. I doubted anyone from The Castle hung out at the cemetery, but a ghost can’t be too careful. I hoped Wiggins admired my quick thinking.

  Kay stared with huge and rounded eyes.

  What an unfortunate moment for her to grapple with the reality of me.

  Diane scrambled to pull off a glove. She looked at me with the kindly friendliness of a puppy. “I’m Diane Hume.”

  I smiled as we shook hands. “Kay’s told me about you and how welcoming you are. She is so appreciative. You’ll have to forgive her. Such a shock. A huge tarantula jumped toward her just a moment ago. She’s always had a thing about tarantulas.”

  Diane darted frightened looks around the gazebo.

  “An Oklahoma Brown Tarantula. Aphonopelma hentzi. Don’t be concerned. A very docile spider. Huge. With those dear furry legs. I dropped him over the edge of the gazebo. I have a great admiration for spiders. Don’t you?”

  Diane gazed at me in awe. “Not really.” Clearly she wanted to be agreeable, but there were limits.

  Kay stared at me, too. Awe did not describe her expression. Horror perhaps came nearest.

  “Anyway, it’s lovely to be here.” I leaned forward, spoke confidentially. “I’m Kay’s assistant. She asked me to join her. I do fact-checking, that sort of thing.” I had no idea if writers had assistants, but if I didn’t know, I doubted Diane knew. “Kay’s main effort will be in Africa, of course. She’s eager to be on her way there, so she’s asked me to help round up the information in Adelaide. I can be a help.” I waved my hand. “Running around, talking to people.” I turned to Kay. “Such a shock. That tarantula. After you speak with the police chief, perhaps you might want to go to your room and rest. I can take care of the interview with Gwen Dunham.”

  “I’m fine.” But she made no move to go.

  Diane looked earnest. “Francie, would you like to stay with us? It might be more convenient for you and Kay.”

  I beamed. “That would be wonderful.” I wished Kay would stop looking like she was marooned on a ledge twenty stories above the street. “Thank you.”

  Diane turned to Kay. “I suppose you thought it was too late to invite Francie to stay last night. Laverne was sure she saw you speaking to someone in the garden.”

  Kay’s tone was dazed. “Last night. Yes. It was late.”

  Diane’s face squeezed into a commiserating frown. “I can’t believe how that vase fell. Wasn’t it awful that you and Francie were standing in the one place where it would
land. Why, Laverne said it was almost as if it were meant.” Diane looked at me. “You’ll meet Laverne. She’s the most wonderful woman. She has insights from beyond this world.”

  Kay gave a ragged laugh. “I don’t think Laverne has a monopoly on otherworldly insights.”

  “We’re concerned with the here and now.” My voice was sharp. “Right here and right now.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, Bai—”

  “Diane.” I spoke with the vigor of a tour guide and in a sense possibly that was my role. “Kay tells me you have an exquisite sense of atmosphere. You are the perfect person to give us a perspective of your brother-in-law’s last few days on earth. You and I can visit while Kay goes up to the house to talk to the police.”

  Kay shot me a strained glance and walked down the steps in a daze.

  I hoped she didn’t appear stiff and tense when she met with Chief Cobb.

  When I turned back to Diane, she was edging toward the steps. “I’m right in the middle of weeding. There are red spiders in my marigolds.”

  I moved right alongside her. “Spider mites. That can be such a problem. Lady bugs are the answer. Put out some sugar water for them. I will only take a minute of your time.”

  She stopped at the bottom of the steps, pleated the garden gloves. “I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t want to talk about Jack. I mean, Kay is very nice. I didn’t expect her to be so nice and I know this book matters to her, but I’ll tell you the truth.”

  I remembered Wiggins’s appraisal of Diane. She has a sweet nature. There was a childlike openness about her.

  “I don’t think Jack was a very nice man. He wanted me to send Laverne and Ronald away.” Her voice trembled. “Laverne is my rock. Why, she’s told me all about James and how he is and that he loves me but he wants me not to hurry to come. He says there’s no time in heaven—”

  I was glad to know Laverne had one point right.

  “—so he wants me to be here to help Laverne and Ronald because they can see through to what’s real and true and I should contribute what I can to their foundation. Jack was just downright ugly. He said he was going to find out where the money went and put them in jail, but I talked to Paul, and what I have is mine and I can do anything with it that I want and Jimmy’s share belongs to him, so there wasn’t anything Jack could do. But he made me so upset and Laverne and Ronald said they’d have to leave if he kept accusing them of bad things. I couldn’t bear it if Laverne went away.” Tears spilled down her face. “I’d rather die.” She whirled away and ran blindly toward the house.

  I looked after her. Would she rather die? Or would she rather kill?

  I waited until Diane was out of sight to disappear.

  On the balcony, Chief Cobb and Evelyn watched in silence as Kay climbed the steps.

  Kay managed a smile. “Good morning.” There was the faintest hint of inquiry in her voice.

  Chief Cobb’s heavy face looked determined. “I appreciate your joining us, Mrs. Clark.”

  Kay nodded, but said nothing.

  Cobb’s brown eyes glinted with irritation and, possibly, a hint of respect. “As I explained to Miss Hume, a study of photographs by our expert suggests that a tool was used to loosen the vase. He believes it would have required a crowbar to leverage the vase from the pedestal.”

  “That is shocking information.” Evelyn’s tone was grim.

  Kay appeared unruffled. “Really.” Her voice lifted in a tone of amazement. “Why, who would have thought such a thing could happen? It sounds like vandalism.”

  I was afraid she was overdoing her ingenuous response a trifle.

  Evelyn bent her head, apparently listening intently. Her expression was alert.

  Cobb cleared his throat. “Mrs. Clark, you were in the garden when the vase fell. Apparently, you narrowly escaped being crushed. Do you think it is likely the vase’s fall at that precise moment was a coincidence?”

  Kay gave a cool smile and turned her hands palms up. “I wouldn’t know what else to think.”

  “Really.” He drew out the word in a sardonic mimicry. “Mrs. Clark, why were you in the garden?”

  She hesitated for an instant, then said smoothly. “I was meeting with my assistant, Francie de Sales. She’d just arrived in town.” Kay glanced at Evelyn. “Diane has very nicely invited Francie to stay at The Castle.”

  “Oh?” Evelyn turned her milky gaze toward Kay.

  Kay was suddenly voluble. “Francie and I met in the gazebo this morning. Diane stopped to visit and she saw at once that Francie and I could be in closer contact if Francie stayed here. I truly appreciate her generosity and yours.” She smiled at Chief Cobb. “Francie will be in and out.”

  Uh-oh. I knew Chief Cobb well enough to be certain he would ask to talk to Francie. Kay had no way of knowing that the chief and I had met before, though he hadn’t known me as Francie de Sales. I thought fondly of my previous appearances as Officer M. Loy and family friend Jerrie Emiliani.

  “Is Miss de Sales available? I’d like to speak with her.”

  Kay looked uncertain. As well she might. “I’m not sure when she’ll be back. She went to get her luggage.”

  On the spur of the moment, that wasn’t a bad ploy.

  Cobb nodded. “Ask her to call me, please.”

  Whew.

  “I will.”

  “Now, about your conference with her in the garden last night: Who knew about that meeting?”

  “No one.” She sounded utterly confident. And believable.

  Wiggins knew, of course. Oh well, she was speaking the truth as she understood it.

  Cobb folded his arms. “I understand you are in Adelaide to write a book about Jack Hume. Has it occurred to you, Mrs. Clark, that someone might not want you to write that book?”

  Her gaze was unfaltering, her voice convincing. “Chief Cobb, I’m quite sure no one pushed a vase from that pedestal because of the book.”

  Again, she spoke the truth. A murderer pushed the vase to hide a crime.

  “And”—she spoke brightly—“speaking of the book, it’s time I continued my research.” She turned and started down the steps.

  Chief Cobb stared after her, eyes narrowed, face hard.

  “I suppose this concludes your questions.” Evelyn spoke pleasantly, but firmly. “I consider the matter closed now. We won’t make a complaint. Further investigation isn’t necessary. The destruction of the vase may have been vandalism. But”—her tone was silky—“experts are often wrong. Thank you for your good efforts, Captain.” Evelyn, too, turned away and moved down the steps.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Kay slid behind the wheel of a canary yellow Corvette convertible with the top down; her eyes flicked uneasily here and there.

  I settled comfortably in the soft leather seat. “Are you looking for me?” It’s nice to be missed.

  She stiffened. “You.”

  “Me.”

  She glared at the passenger seat. “I don’t know which is worse, seeing you or not seeing you.”

  The chief’s car pulled around Kay’s. He gave her a half-angry, half-worried glare. I warned, “Let’s wait until the chief’s car is out of sight.”

  Kay was surly. “I’m surprised you didn’t appear on the scene and tell him everything.”

  I didn’t intend to share with Kay my determination to avoid the chief. He had seen enough of me on previous visits to suggest an otherworldly link. Wiggins had been upset. Wiggins would be proud of me if I avoided the chief.

  “Don’t sound bitter, Kay. I’m going along with your plan.”

  “I can’t stand hearing a voice out of nowhere.” Her tone was hot. “If you’re here, be here.”

  Always happy to oblige, I swirled into being. In my new role as Kay’s assistant, I sought to appear more businesslike, a crisp white blouse with a flared collar, cream linen trousers, white leather flats. I pulled down the visor and glanced into the mirror. Ah, just the right amount of green eye shadow. Not, of course, that I am pr
ideful about having green eyes. Green is as green does, but green does better with a little accent.

  Kay reached out, tapped my sleeve with her forefinger. “Okay. I’m convinced. Diane saw you. But you come and go.” She spoke in a whisper. “I have my own personal ghost. Ghosts…” She had a faraway look. Abruptly, she sat up straight and turned to me. “All right. Level with me. Who killed Jack?”

  It was the last question I’d expected. “How should I know?”

  She was impatient. “Don’t play games. You hang around. You see things. You know things. Who pushed him?”

  “I wish I knew. For one thing, I wasn’t here yet. Besides—”

  “Stop right there. You claim you’re here from Heaven, right?”

  I nodded.

  “They know everything in Heaven. All I need is the name. Then you can pop back there and I’ll take care of everything.” She waved a hand as if Heaven were somewhere near.

  I couldn’t fault her assumption, but she didn’t understand the rules. I had a quick memory of Precept Seven: Information about Heaven is not yours to impart. Simply smile and say, “Time will tell.” Surely this was an exception. “Kay, only God knows. And, as I understand it (I will admit my comprehension was perhaps not at the highest level), when people on earth aren’t following God’s will, their thoughts are hidden. All that is known is their outward attitudes and the results of their actions.”

  “I get it. Whoever pushed Jack is keeping quiet and the only thing I can do is nose around.” She frowned. “So what good are you?”

  “I’m here to keep you safe.” I gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Why?”

  I looked at her, my eyes widening. “I have no idea.” Why, indeed?

  “There are people in trouble all over the place. Why do I have a special angel—”

  I was firm. “Not an angel. Ghost. G-H-O-S-T.”