Ghost in Trouble (16 page)

Kay's gaze swung toward the windows to look at the hedge between The Castle and the Dunham house. “I have two sons.” The sentence was filled with understanding and compassion. “I wouldn't trade my years watching Kyle and Connor grow up for anything in the world.” She tapped her pen on the notebook. “Gwen Dunham had the most to lose.”

“The dog barked.”

Kay looked bewildered.

I was following my own line of thought. “Gwen Dunham was not the only person who was threatened by revelations about Ryan. Friday night, Shannon followed Jack to the gazebo, where he met Gwen. Shannon tried to get near enough to hear, but Diane's cocker started barking. Gwen said she slipped from the house, leaving her husband asleep. Was he asleep? Did he follow her? Did the cocker bark at him or at Shannon? How upset would Clint Dunham be if he thought the son he loved would learn Clint wasn't his father? Clint had a motive for murder. Or was someone else out there? Ronald Phillips has a talent for slipping around unseen. He may be planning to blackmail Gwen.”

“There are too many possibilities.” Kay sounded discouraged. “How can we figure out who is guilty?”

“Which one was capable of murder? Was Paul helpful?”

Kay looked at me unhappily. “I feel like I took advantage of him. These people are his friends. He thinks I wanted his perspective so that I could more effectively interview them.”

“Jack was Paul's quarterback.”

Some of the tension eased from her face. “Thank you.” Her glance said more than her words. Paul's admiration and respect mattered hugely to her. Someday, if Kay revealed the truth about Jack's death, Paul would understand.

“I believe Paul's view of them is as honest a picture as we will find. So”—she was brisk—“Gwen seems an unlikely suspect. He describes her as gentle, self-effacing, unwilling to cause controversy. She loves Adelaide. Clint had a chance some years ago to go with Travelers Insurance in Dallas. Gwen didn't want to leave Adelaide.”

I looked back over years, considering how Gwen had dealt with a once-in-a-lifetime chance for love. “Jack wanted her to come to Africa. She wouldn't—or couldn't—break out of the mold of her life. Keeping the status quo mattered more to her than passion. If she clung to a kind of life that had barely begun, what would she do if something occurred which threatened to destroy her long-established, secure world?”

“Gwen hated him that night in the gazebo.” Kay's eyes narrowed. “Shannon heard her: ‘I wish you were dead.'”

I cautioned, “We have no proof of what Gwen said. Shannon may have lied.”

“Why?” Kay sipped the soft drink.

“You are forgetting one small matter.”

Kay raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The vase.”

“Oh. Of course. The murderer is quite sure questions from you or me have nothing to do with a book and will take every opportunity to direct suspicion elsewhere. That means the response of one of them has to be filtered through the possibility of guilt. Clever of you.” She gave me an admiring glance. “You aren't as ditzy as you look.”

Every time Kay and I seemed to be forging a bond, she said something tactless. I suppose pique was evident in my expression. I stiffened. Had I heard a faint chuckle? I looked around the room. If Wiggins was here, he remained, of course, unseen.

He whirled into being behind Kay, visible only to me, chestnut hair burnished in a stream of sunlight from the window, broad genial face equable, mustache quivering in amusement. He gave me a thumbs-up, pointed into the distance, and disappeared.

I was swept by elation. Despite my continued appearances, Wiggins had clearly awarded me the Department of Good Intentions Seal of Approval. If Wiggins didn't have a seal, I'd be happy to help design one. Perhaps a dear sea lion perched astride bright red (of course) letters trumpeting:
YES!
For an instant, tears of joy filmed my eyes.

“Don't cry.” Kay was obviously distressed. “I didn't intend to be disparaging, but, frankly, you are so young and pretty, it's hard to take you seriously.” She clapped a hand over her lips, looked appalled. “Did I say that? How many times was I treated like that when I was your age!” She shook her head in bewilderment. “Of course you aren't that age, even if you look it. How confusing is that?”

My, a seal of approval from Wiggins and a compliment and an apology from Kay. I felt like giving another Rebel yell, but settled for a pleased smile. “‘No offense meant, none taken.'”

Her laughter was genuine and appreciative. “Anyway, you've done excellent work.” She bit her lip, flashed me an impish glance.
“For a pretty young woman. Okay.” Her smile fled. “If Shannon pushed Jack, she'd try to steer suspicion to someone else. Do you suppose she knew about Ryan?”

I drank the fizzy club soda, slowly shook my head. “She'd have told me, especially if she was trying to implicate Gwen.”

Kay stirred the ice in her Coke. “Paul was circumspect when I asked about Shannon. She'd been a client. I asked the circumstances. He said the matter had been settled and he wasn't at liberty to discuss it. When I got back, I checked with Evelyn. She was more forthcoming. When Shannon was fourteen she rammed her bicycle into a teenage boy who was throwing rocks at a cat. She knocked him down and he ended up with a broken nose and five stitches in his chin. His parents sued. Jimmy got his dad involved. The suit was settled. Evelyn didn't know whether James had provided money, but she thought so.”

It was my turn to murmur “oh.” “Hotheaded. Impulsive. Lacks control.”

Kay glanced at the notebook. “Shannon's not the only one with a temper. Paul said Evelyn is quick to anger, slow to forgive. The Castle matters more to her than people. She takes enormous pride in the art collection. Although she dutifully responds to charitable requests, her gifts are respectable, but not overly generous. She never hesitates to spend several hundred thousand for a painting or sculpture that she wants.”

I was puzzled. “How can art matter that much to her when she has such poor vision?”

Kay shrugged. “Pride of possession? Perhaps having Alison describe a work and knowing that the painting hangs at The Castle is enough. Maybe the art collection gives meaning to her life. Paul said Evelyn was resentful, angry that she'd never met anyone to love, that she'd spent her time caring for her father without any support from her brothers.”

Kay glanced again at her notes. “As for Diane, Paul said she's timid, easily flustered, affectionate, and vulnerable. Paul thought it was a shame Jack hadn't dislodged Laverne and Ronald. He said”—Kay's eyes met mine—“that Diane would fight to the death to keep them at The Castle.”

I remembered Diane's pitiful “I'd rather die” when she spoke of losing Laverne. “When a weak person is backed into a corner, the response can be vicious.”

Kay said briskly, “‘Dangerous if threatened' sums up Diane. Jack had no intention of easing up on the Phillipses.”

“Wouldn't Diane wait until she was certain he could prevail?” I had no doubt Diane was desperate to keep Laverne near, but I thought the threat would have to be certain before she would act. “Is she decisive enough for preemptive action?”

Kay was thoughtful. “For all we know, Jack may have spoken to Diane Saturday evening. I think she would have to be absolutely desperate to commit murder.”

“Paul's take on Jimmy?”

Kay's face softened. “Jimmy reminds me of Jack when he was young. Paul feels the same way. Although”—her tone was suddenly dry—“unlike Jack, Jimmy's been a one-woman man since he and Shannon went on a Halloween hayride in middle school. Shannon is volatile and known to flirt. In fact, she dated another guy last summer.” She paused. “Jimmy slouched around looking morose. That's when he took up hang gliding.”

I quoted Coleridge: “‘And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain.'”

“The old boy had that one right.” Kay's words were flippant, but her eyes were somber with understanding. “Yet, when you talked to Jimmy, nothing he said suggested an effort to implicate anyone else.”

“Unless”—I felt sad making the suggestion—“he was artfully making clear the extent of Shannon's unhappiness with Jack. In fact, he may be a wily murderer and still very angry with Shannon. What did Paul say about Margo?”

“Beaten down. She grew up in Adelaide in modest circumstances. She was nineteen when Jack came back for James's wedding. Jack gave her a big rush and then he met Gwen. He dropped Margo. Later, she married a rodeo cowboy, Rollie Taylor. Shannon was born the next year. Margo followed Rollie on the circuit for a half-dozen years, but he ran around on her. They had a bitter divorce and she got a pretty good settlement. He was a big prizewinner. A few years ago, he was paralyzed when he was thrown from a bull. He needed money. She told him nothing doing. After the divorce, she worked part-time, went back to school, and got her degree. She was a flight attendant for American for a half-dozen years till all the layoffs. She came back to Adelaide because her mother, Phyllis, had Alzheimer's. Phyllis had been the housekeeper at The Castle for fifteen years. Evelyn and James were happy to have Margo take over her mother's job and that made it possible for Phyllis to stay here until she died last year.”

Kay drew a string of question marks across the top of her pad. “Margo must have been furious when Jack came home and spent time with Shannon.”

I nodded. “She was angry enough to slip Ryan Dunham's photograph under Jack's door. My guess is that after you came, she took the photograph from his box.”

Kay was puzzled. “Why not leave the picture there?”

I had an idea. I hoped I wasn't right. “Did Paul appraise Margo's character?”

Kay shot me an irritated look. “Do you take special pleasure in non sequiturs?”

Possibly my swiftness of thought wasn't appreciated. I resisted
the temptation to quote Damon Runyon: “The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that's the way to bet.” However, I felt Kay's patience had reached its limit. “Someone called Gwen, clearly to set her up for blackmail. The caller may have been Margo.”

“Would Margo commit blackmail?” Kay shrugged. “I don't think she'd try to get money. That might not be the point. Maybe she wants to turn the screw a little tighter on Gwen.” She wrote on her notepad. “Paul was fair, but he has a negative view of Margo. He's mostly positive about Alison Gregory. He's grateful for Alison's kindness to his wife and he admires Alison's success, but he said she blocked the establishment of a competing gallery by a friend of his. Alison persuaded the financial backers to pull out. Paul shook his head, said she might have been smarter to welcome a new gallery, the-more-the-merrier philosophy of the big chains when they build across the street from each other. Paul said he understood Alison's dependence upon Evelyn Hume as a primary customer, but her cultivation of Evelyn sometimes seemed excessive.”

I didn't find Alison's focus on Evelyn surprising. Possibly not completely admirable, but definitely not surprising. “If we checked the provenance of artworks purchased by Evelyn, I imagine many of them were provided by Alison.”

Kay looked indifferent. “Jack had a list. We can probably check and see, but I don't think it would tell us anything. Anyway, Alison is smart, aggressive, and plenty tough beneath the charm. Although I don't find her all that charming.”

I laughed. “Of course you don't. You've never fawned over anyone in your life.”

“Thanks.”

I was glad that she cared what I thought of her. That was definitely a step forward.

“However, speaking of fawning—”

Two minds that worked as one. I nodded. “Laverne and Ronald Phillips.”

“Scum. That's how Paul sees them.” Her face furrowed. “Diane's their golden goose.”

“There's a séance tonight?” I spoke with distaste.

“Every Wednesday at eight in the library. Diane told me all about it. Breathlessly. I've heard what James says and how happy he is to be with her.” Kay shook her head. “Poor Diane. She's easy pickings for the Phillipses.”

“Who attends?”

“Diane and Laverne. As you would imagine, Jimmy thinks it's all nuts and Evelyn has no patience with the supernatural.” Kay abruptly looked gleeful. “It would be a hoot to introduce you to Evelyn as my ghost-in-chief. She's so arrogantly in command. I'd like to see her in a situation she couldn't control. Come on, Bailey Ruth, how about it?”

I was appalled. “Precepts One, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven. I would be drummed out of the department.”

“Okay, okay. No need to get hot and bothered.” Her eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Why do you ask? Do you want to attend? No problem. Disappear and go.” Once again, her eyes held a wicked gleam. “Hey, you could add a spot if excitement. You—” She broke off. “Have I said something unacceptable? You don't look amused.”

“Remember”—I knew I sounded uncommonly serious—“those who are alive must not seek to contact those who are dead. That way lies evil. If Heaven, as in your case, sends a spirit to you, that is for good.”

Kay reached out, patted my arm. “I got it. Not a two-way street. I'm sorry. Your fur is definitely ruffled. I apologize. We'll ignore any and all séances.”

That was my definite intent. “Diane is too transparent to be discreet. We can easily find out what happens tonight. I'm sure Ronald Phillips has some mischief in mind. He said, ‘The Great Spirit's going to put on a good show.' He told Laverne he had a few more things to find out, then he asked if this was Diane's afternoon with James. What did he mean?”

“James died at four o'clock on a Wednesday. Every week at that time, Diane takes fresh flowers to the cemetery.”