This Old Homicide (20 page)

I scowled. “I think I’d want to kick him out of my house at that point.”

“Me, too. Now, all along, Ned is insisting that Stephen was only teasing Jesse with that comment, but Jesse wasn’t taking it. Ned had to calm Jesse down and convince him that it was all a big joke on Stephen’s part. But it wasn’t, of course.”

“Jesse didn’t think it was a joke.”

“Nope.”

Lizzie shook her head, looking baffled. “Why would Stephen keep insisting after being told no? He sounds like my kids when I won’t let them stay up late to watch TV.”

“It does sound immature.” I finished my latte and tossed the cup into the nearby trash receptacle. “I spent some time talking to Stephen, who really is kind of boring, by the way.”

“Oh no,” Lizzie groaned. “Poor Jane. She doesn’t need a guy like that. Immature and boring, what a combination.” She stared into her latte. “At least my kids aren’t boring.”

I chuckled. “No, they aren’t. Anyway, Stephen told me that Jesse used to come over for barbecues and parties and things. He made it seem like they were practically family.”

Lizzie frowned. “Doesn’t sound like Jesse considered Stephen part of his family.”

“No.”

I considered what she’d told me. “So I guess you got all the info from Ned and I got what I could from Bob.”

Lizzie thought about it. “It’s probably better that we split it up that way, so neither man would be suspicious if both of us asked the same questions.”

“Probably so.”

We sat in silence for a minute and then I grinned. “Good detective work, miss.”

“I know, right? That was fun.”

After Lizzie went back to the store, I digested what she had told me. It was anecdotal and probably didn’t mean anything in terms of proving that Stephen was a cold-blooded killer or a thief or anything else. But it was something to add to the list of interesting coincidences.

I spent the next four hours at home doing paperwork and following up on supplies and orders for my jobsites. For dinner, I baked a whole chicken and ate a portion of it with tortillas and salsa. Afterward I watched a little television with Robbie and Tiger and went to bed early. Surprisingly I slept well, even knowing I had to deal with a ghost in the morning.

*   *   *

I hadn’t been back to Emily’s since the walk-through, so Monday morning I drove across town to see how the renovation was going.

As I opened the front door, I heard a loud thud. And walked into chaos.

A gallon of rich forest green paint had been thrown against the wall at the far end of the dining room. Thick rivulets streamed down, puddling on the floor. I was relieved to see there was a tarp to catch a lot of it. And none of the paint had hit the breakfront or the beautiful tile work surrounding the fireplace. I considered that a stroke of luck.

Emily had bought several cans of paint in different shades to start experimenting with room colors. Anything that didn’t work could be primed again and repainted.

“What’s going on?” I asked Wade, who was crouched on the floor by the big tool chest in the far corner. He was clutching a hammer. Sean must’ve run from the room, because he was now peeking around the kitchen door.

“Where’s Douglas?” I asked.

“He ran outside,” Sean said. “Total chicken.”

“As opposed to a partial chicken?” I wondered.

Sean scraped his fingers through his hair as he walked back into the room. “Yeah, well, you would’ve run, too, boss, if you’d seen what we just saw.”

I was getting a bad feeling. “Are you going to tell me a ghost did that?”

“Well, it wasn’t one of us,” Wade groused.

“I didn’t think it was,” I said mildly. “But do you know why it happened? What were you guys doing just before it happened?”

“We weren’t doing anything,” Sean insisted.

Wade snorted.

Sean shook his head in self-disgust. “I mean, we were busy, boss, but not doing anything unusual or dangerous. That’s what I meant.”

I smiled. “I know what you meant.”

“Okay.” Sean exhaled gruffly. “So I was about to peel off the last panel of wallpaper and then we were going to pull that wall down to check for problems.”

I glanced at Wade. “What problems?”

He approached me, still clutching the hammer. “There’s a weird scent emanating and I can’t figure out what it is. So we’re going to check it.”

“What kind of scent?”

“Musky. Not unpleasant, but very weird.”

That did sound weird. “Some kind of chemical leak, maybe?”

“Could be.”

Sean continued the story. “But as soon as I took out my pry bar and hammer, the paint can went flying.”

“Scared the hell out of us,” Wade admitted, lowering his voice. I wasn’t sure why, since I figured a ghost could probably hear everything he said.

“The old girl’s been pretty calm lately. You know, we still get the occasional vibe and know she’s around, and the lights have gone off a few times, but otherwise nothing violent. And then all of a sudden, she’s throwing things.”

I looked around at the guys, including Douglas, who had just snuck back into the room, looking sheepish. “Did any of you read up on the family history?”

Lizzie’s store stocked a number of books on the history of the town and its prominent families and homes. Many of the great houses in the area came with their own folklore, and I liked to read up on them when I had the chance. I hadn’t read much about the Rawley family, but that was because I’d heard a lot of the legends while growing up. I made a mental note to call Emily about it. She might know if something had happened in the dining room so that we could be more careful in there from now on.

My mind instantly went to murder. Was somebody killed in the Rawley dining room? But as soon as I thought of it, I brushed it away. If a murder had occurred here, it would be a town legend by now and everyone would know about it.

Wade tapped the hammer absently against his leg as he studied the paint streaks. “You think something happened in here that she’s particularly sensitive about?”

“It’s a thought.”

Sean fumed. “It would be helpful if she just told us what her issues were instead of trying to kill us with paint cans.”

“That would be helpful,” I said.

“B-boss.”

I whipped around and saw Douglas pointing at the wall of paint. His eyes were as big and round as moons.

I turned and saw what had mesmerized him. Halfway up the wall, an arrow had appeared in the paint, pointing down toward the floor, as though a child might’ve been finger-painting.

“Holy crap,” Wade muttered.

“Anybody home?” a man called from the front door.

Who was that? I wondered. I glanced at my guys for a clue, but they both shook their heads.

“We’re in here,” I said loudly.

Footsteps sounded against the wide wooden planks of the foyer and stopped at the entry to the dining room.

“Hey, Shannon, how’s my favorite contractor?”

“Gus.” I walked over to greet him and couldn’t help melting a little when he gave me a big, warm hug. “How are you?”

“I’m even better than I look.”

I laughed. Gus was joking around, but the fact was, he looked really, really good. The man was a walking chick magnet and had been since first grade. He’d also been my auto mechanic for as long as I’d been driving.

Augustus Peratti,
Gus
to his friends, owned the best auto shop in Northern California together with his father, uncle, and brother. The shop had been in business for three generations and catered to every type of automobile made. A good thing, because I was pretty sure that every woman within a five-hundred-mile radius brought her car to them.

The Peratti men were handsome devils with beautiful smiles, gorgeous dark eyes, and thick black hair. I couldn’t swear to it, but based on the sort of attention he’d always received, I had a feeling that Gus had slept with every girl in my senior class except me. Maybe that was why we had remained friends all this time.

The best thing about Gus was his sense of humor and his intelligence. He had a ready laugh and he always got the joke. What woman could resist that in a man?

He greeted the guys with waves and nods. “How’s everybody doing?”

“Pretty well, Gus,” Wade said. “Except for a little mishap over here.”

“That’s quite a mess,” he said, gazing at the wall of green paint. He turned back to me. “I thought I’d find Emily here.”

“She hasn’t been around today,” Wade said.

“Is she catering a party for you?” I asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Gus said. “She told me to meet her here.”

The chandelier in the middle of the room began to sway directly above Gus’s head.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the side.

“Holy crap,” Wade muttered, staring at the ceiling, where the chandelier grew steady.

“What was that?” Gus asked.

All of a sudden he started to tremble.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

His eyes rolled back in his head and his body began to undulate from his shoulders down to his hips and back up again.

“Gus!” I shouted. I grabbed his arm again and shook it. “Are you sick? Somebody call 911!”

“I’m calling now,” Douglas said.

“Do it,” Wade demanded. “Now.” He grabbed Gus’s other arm and we tried to hold on to him. But he shook us both off.

“Tell them to hurry!” I shouted.

Gus stopped moving as suddenly as he’d started. After shaking his head back and forth a few times, he bent over and leaned his elbows on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He gave up, slid down the wall, and sat on the floor. “What the hell is going on here?”

We all stared at him for a minute.

“Wow,” Douglas whispered.

“What just happened to you?” I asked, kneeling next to him.

“Here, drink this.” Wade handed him a bottle of water.

He took a long gulp. “I… jeez.” He was still breathing heavily. “It felt like my whole body was taken over by… something. I know that sounds weird, but it’s the best I can do.”

“Are you in pain?”

He patted his stomach and chest as he mentally checked himself out. “No. I feel pretty damn good, actually. Really damn good.” He pushed himself up off the floor and stood, but he had to lean against the wall as he brushed his hair off his forehead.

Wade stared at me, but I was clueless.

“I don’t believe it,” Wade muttered.

“What?” Gus demanded, glaring at Wade. “What was that? You know something. Tell me.”

I gulped. “Do you believe in ghosts, Gus?”

“Sure, babe,” he said, his tone casual. “Why not?”

“Okay,” I said, nodding slowly.

We all stared at him some more and now he stared back.

“Is that what that was? Huh.” He rubbed his chest some more as it slowly dawned on him. “Oh, yeah, the Rawley ghost. Damn. I never thought I’d see the day.” He turned and gazed around the room, beaming that sexy smile that had won countless ladies’ hearts all through high school. “Hello there, Ms. Rawley.”

The lights abruptly began to flash off and on and the chandelier started to sway again. A strong wind came up from nowhere and swept through the room.

Gus grinned. “Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”

Suddenly one of the breakfront windows cracked. I let out a little shriek and I was pretty sure Douglas jumped at least two feet off the floor.

Gus’s grin just grew wider. “Damn, lady. You are one powerful ghost.”

Everything calmed down at once.

I shook my head, not quite believing what I had seen. But one thing was for sure. “I think she likes you, Gus.”

*   *   *

It was almost four o’clock when I left Emily’s. Gus took off at the same time, first calling Emily to let her know that he would meet her at the tea shop instead.

The guys and I moved all the tools and paint and supplies out of the house for safekeeping. We still couldn’t figure out what was going on in there, but we needed to find a way to keep working without distractions—and having Gus there was a definite distraction. Of course, he’d been a distraction ever since first grade.

Wade and I agreed to meet back here first thing tomorrow morning to discuss everything that had happened since we’d first started the job. I wanted Emily to be here, too, to hear about Gus’s encounter and to help figure out if there was any possibility of danger to her or my crew.

I headed for home, intending to finish paying the bills this afternoon. But I decided to stop off at Jane’s to see how her second day as a high-class innkeeper had gone. I found her sitting at the check-in desk, working on her computer.

“Hey, you,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Wonderful,” she whispered, not wanting to be overheard by any of her guests. “We had the best breakfast. The girls made my recipe for stuffed French toast croissants.”

“The one with mascarpone cheese and blueberries?”

“Yes, only they added raspberries and strawberries and bananas and sweetened the mascarpone cheese with orange liqueur and sprinkled chopped caramelized pecans over the top. And served it with bacon, of course.”

“Oh my God.” I sat down in the guest chair. “Are there any leftovers?”

“Everyone was raving about it, Shannon. We had all the juice and coffee and muffins and the usual spread, of course, and we even had a gluten-free version for one of our guests, and she was delighted. I’m so happy.”

“And I’m so happy for you.” I felt silly whispering, but I understood her need to be discreet. She actually had paying guests walking around the place!

“Excuse me. I’d like to check in.”

I turned and saw a nice-looking man standing in the foyer behind me with two suitcases and a briefcase. With a bright smile, I stood and stepped out of the way. “Of course. You can do that right here.”

Jane stood up, wearing a look of concern. “I’m Jane Hennessey, but I’m afraid we’re booked solid for the next four days. I’ll be happy to recommend—”

“But I have a reservation,” he said.

“Are you sure?” She sat back down at her computer. “Under what name?”

“Andrew Braxton. I reserved a room for the week.”

She looked up at him. “Oh dear. I was so sorry to hear about your accident, Mr. Braxton, but I understood that you were canceling your entire trip.”