Guidebook to Murder (16 page)

“Greg?”

He glanced up at me, a grin covering his face. “Get down here. You've gotta see this.”

“See what?” The trunk might be broken, but at least I didn't hurt him. Or maybe I had hit his head with the falling trunk. I couldn't be sure.

Greg held up his cupped hands full of the play pirate gold from the chest. “This.”

I didn't understand why he would get so excited about some old painted coins, but I ungracefully made my way down the ladder. Not a pretty sight, but Greg wasn't watching me anyway. When I finally hit the floor, his attention focused on the gold coins in his hands.

I grabbed one and glanced at it. “So, what's so exciting?” I turned the coin over and saw a portrait of a long-dead king. “Boy, these look real.”

Greg grinned at me. “I think they are.”

“Are what?” I said crossly. Dirty and hungry, I was tired of playing games. I brushed the dirt off my sundress and my knees.

“Jill, I think this is the treasure hidden at the mission.”

“The Aztec gold? I thought you said the history didn't match the rumors.”

“It's not Aztec gold, it's Spanish coins—sent from the crown to assure that California would be taken for the king. There was a theory, rumor mostly, that the missions were used as staging grounds for the military's attacks on the natives.” He fingered the coins.

“Are you sure?” I kneeled down beside him, unwilling to touch the coins. It might have been superstition, but I didn't believe in found money. And my life had been blessed with way too many gifts lately. I remembered a story I'd read in freshman English about the gifts of the monkey's paw and the consequences for asking for your desire. Now I lived the legend, one of my friends dead and the other missing, even though I hadn't asked for the money. Adding in more wealth to the mix might just trigger another tragedy.

“Well, as sure as I can be.” Greg grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket. “Do you mind if I take a few of these? I'll run to the university tomorrow and see what my old professor thinks.” He grabbed up the coins and put them in the middle of the white linen square. Separating out two, he tied a knot in the cloth and slid them in his front pocket.

“Do you think Miss Emily knew they were here?” The trunk seemed to have a fake bottom that had broken when it dropped to the floor.

“I'm pretty sure Bob knew. I'm sure when he told his mom she just racked it up to an active imagination. Most of these pirate clothes are hand-sewn. She probably just thought he was playing with her.” Greg scooted the chest over to the side of the room. “I bet if we had someone date this chest it would bring us back to the mission again.”

“All roads lead to that damn wall in my backyard.” My stomach growled. “Can we go eat now?” I needed to leave all the mystery behind for a while. I wanted fat. Fried fish, fried mushrooms, fried anything. And a beer.

“Let's drop these off in the house and move the paintings inside, then we can go.” He ran into my shoulder as we were walking. “You're buying, right?”

“I guess I can, why?”

“If I'm right, the offer that creep Ammond made you on the house is chump change compared to your new net worth.” Greg locked the shed as we left. “And I'm just a poor city employee.”

Visions of the monkey's paw scratching at the kitchen door shook me to the core. This was not good. Not good at all.

I
'd barely slept. I dreamed of pirates chasing Amy and monks in full black robes with ropes tied around their waists running around my backyard. I woke to the sound of the construction guys nailing on the new siding at 5 a.m. Who works at five in the morning? Bleary-eyed, I grabbed another sundress and headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. I needed to do some laundry today, otherwise I'd be down to a little black date dress or the blue business suit I saved for bank meetings—neither of which was suitable for painting the living room. Right after one or two pots of coffee.

I had just sat down at the kitchen table, one load of laundry in the washer, and my third cup of coffee in front of me, when I heard a knock at the door. I peeked out the window to see Kevin.

“Good news,” he said as I opened the door. He walked inside the kitchen and pointed to my coffee. “Got any more in the pot?”

“Sure, cups are over there.” I sat back down at the table. I didn't think this was going to be a quick conversation.

“The commission called me back, and they'll be out here this morning to evaluate the site. They said they couldn't reach you.” Kevin pulled out a chair and turned it backward toward the table. He leaned into the back of the chair and set his coffee on the table. “I'm meeting the guy in a few minutes. Want to come watch?”

I glanced at my phone, sure enough, three missed calls from yesterday. I considered my to-do list. Even without the laundry, I had furniture being delivered, and I didn't even have a path cleared through the living room yet. And standing around watching some guy look at a rock wall wasn't what I wanted to do. “Just tell me the results. I've got a lot to get done.” Too bad Kevin couldn't help me with my list. “Hey, you don't have a guy who can help me move some furniture for a few hours today, do you?”

“I bet Todd does. Hold on, I'll ask.” When Kevin returned, he had a tall teenager with him.

“Derek, this is Jill. Help her out today, okay?” Kevin slapped the kid on the back. “I'm going to check out by the wall before the commission guy gets here.” He swallowed the remainder of his coffee in two gulps and put the cup in the sink. Someone had trained him well.

“So, what do you want me to do?” Derek asked, looking around the kitchen filled with paintings that Greg and I had just brought in from the shed.

I had him move all the paintings into one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, and while he kept busy, I started marking boxes with Miss Emily's china and other personal effects. The boxes would go into the shed, and when I finished, I'd call the antiques dealer over to give me some evaluations. No use making a plan now. There was plenty of room in the shed now that I'd moved out all of Miss Emily's paintings.

Two hours later, the kitchen looked back to normal, and all the boxes were out of the living room. The study would be completed as soon as the furniture was delivered. Time to focus on the living room. I had Derek help me take measurements of the living room, the bathroom, and all the bedrooms upstairs. Derek took off to grab some lunch with the rest of the construction crew, and I sat down on the worn couch to make decisions on what living room furniture to keep. If I planned this right, I'd have the entire house cleared by the end of the day.

The doorbell rang. I slapped a stickie on the recliner, a sign to Derek to move it to the shed, and went to answer the door. This having-an-assistant thing was working out for me. I might have to keep Toby on once I reclaimed the coffee shop from Aunt Jackie . . . if I ever did.

I opened the door to a deliveryman in brown. At least it wasn't another summons from the city. I signed for the envelope and walked back into the kitchen. I needed food.

I threw the envelope on the table, planning on getting to it after eating a sandwich or two. I ate my tuna on white over the sink watching the backyard. Kevin and the commission guy were finally done and coming up the grass, deep in conversation. I could see Kevin throwing his arms around. Either they'd determined the wall was just that, a wall, or Kevin was telling a story about looking for the pirate gold as a kid. I wasn't sure which outcome I wanted. I mean, having a piece of history on your land is pretty intense and probably needs a lot of attention. I kind of liked the late-evening-barbeques and sitting-on-my-back-deck version of the future for this house. Especially if the version included a certain cute detective.

I brushed the crumbs off my face and headed out the kitchen door to meet them.

“So, what's the verdict?” I asked as soon as the men were close enough to hear me.

“Frank, this is Jill Gardner, the home owner. Jill, Frank Gleason, the commission inspector.” Kevin did the formalities. “Frank was just going over the preliminary results with me.”

“Which are?” I waited for Frank to respond. He clearly spent a lot more time researching in a darkly lit library than outside in the real world. His pasty white skin jarred against the black suit he wore. Not a typical California outfit, even over at the college.

“Debatable,” Frank whined. “I'm not comfortable talking about my conclusions until I'm certain. I thought I made that clear.” He shot a look at Kevin that should have brought the man to his knees, but Kevin ignored it.

“He thinks the wall is part of the mission,” Kevin crowed.

“Now, I told you, I can't be certain until we complete tests on the wall. I took soil samples and samples of the wall and grout to age the materials. It's hard to tell, the wall's been painted recently.” He glared at me.

“I don't think Miss Emily's painted anything around here in the last fifty years,” I responded.

“I didn't say yesterday. The wall's been painted in the last hundred or so years. Which makes it almost impossible to determine age without doing lab work.” The man peered at me through his round glasses and then back down at his notepad. “Who's this Miss Emily? I thought you were the owner of record?”

“I am the owner of record. Miss Emily left the house to me.” I didn't know why I felt I had to explain to this little bureaucrat.
Be nice,
my rational side said.

“Tragic.” The man kept writing on his notepad.

I wasn't sure if he meant Miss Emily's death or my inheritance. But if this man was the key to my stopping the council from condemning the property, I would have to at least pretend to be nice. “Mr. Gleason, can your office contact the city and put a hold on the condemnation proceedings? Or maybe write a letter?”

“We can't say for sure if this is a historical site.” Frank glanced at the back of the yard, even though the wall wasn't visible from where we stood. He paused and appeared to be weighing his next words. “However, I feel that there are ample questions on the origin of the wall, so my office could file a cease-and-desist order with the City of South Cove.”

I wrapped my arms around the little man and hugged him. “Thank you so much!” I squeezed him and then moved over to Kevin. Kevin and I hugged and jumped around in circles.

“Miss Gardner, I didn't say the wall was part of the mission,” Frank called over our celebration. “And my filing will only hold the council off while we investigate. If I were you, I'd handle the other issues on the property as quickly as possible.”

I stopped jumping with Kevin. “I will, Mr. Gleason. I promise.” I skipped back to the kitchen door. I had a lot of items still on my to-do list, but I felt like I'd been given the get-out-of-jail-free card. And first on my list, while Derek moved the extra stuff out of the house, was to finish laundry so I could head over to Lille's to meet Aunt Jackie for dinner. Fried shrimp night—time to celebrate.

 

“I've set up your books on a computer accounting system. Don't look at me that way, it's easy.” Aunt Jackie pointed at me with her fork. “It's time you were brought up to date. And the program even links up with your suppliers and will alert you when you need to place an order for coffee or supplies or even books. Of course, I had to purchase some new equipment.”

I groaned. I had priced setting up a system last fall, but the cost had been out of my reach. I wasn't sure I wanted to know but asked anyway, “How much did it cost?”

“Don't you worry about it. If foot traffic stays up like it's been the last two weeks, we should have the system paid off in less than a year.” Aunt Jackie took a sip of her wine. “This is good. Did I tell you I talked to the winery owner about doing a joint event? Maybe a murder mystery dinner? Donna's such a sweetheart.”

“Darla, the owner's name is Darla, not Donna.” I sank back in my chair. I guess the money didn't matter. I had plenty in my account now. But that wasn't the point. I wanted the store to be successful on its own. Not just because I poured the money Miss Emily left me into new accounting systems. I couldn't pull away from the house project just yet. Frank Gleason had bought me some time, but as soon as he lost interest in the four-foot section of rock wall, the council would be pushing for the house to be up to standards. And right now, the only standard the house could meet was for a training video for newly hired construction workers on how not to remodel a house.

“What's wrong, honey? Did I overstep?” Aunt Jackie refilled my glass of wine.

“No. I planned on installing a system, so I guess now is as good a time as any.” Tiny pity party over. I'd invited her to help with the coffee shop, and I had to accept Aunt Jackie's take-over style. I swallowed. “I want to thank you for stepping in like this. I couldn't have done everything on the house and handled the shop.”

“I'm glad to help. I was going to wait a couple of weeks, but since you brought up the subject, I'll ask now.” She leaned closer over the table.

God, now what? Did she want to start an adult section in the basement?
I plastered a smile on my face and asked, “What did you want to ask?”

“You know I've been traveling a lot since I retired. And I love it, I do. But living in San Francisco's so overwhelming. There were three break-ins on my block last week. And you are so happy in the new house. So I wondered . . .” She took a sip of wine.

“I don't understand.” I didn't know where this conversation was going, but I had a bad feeling I wouldn't like it.

“Well, you don't have to work anymore, and I just need a little pin money, so it works out perfect.” Jackie sat back, waiting for an answer.

“Wait? You want to stay on at the store? After I get the house done?” My mind reeled. I loved my aunt. Especially in small doses. But to have her in the same town, working for me at the shop? I'd probably have to kill her. “But you love to travel.”

“And I still would. Just not as much.” Jackie leaned forward. “Jill, I've loved running the shop. I didn't want to tell you, but they are selling my building. Refurbishing it for new condos. They offered to sell me my apartment, but I don't have that kind of money. Not since the Wall Street thing. Since I have to move anyway, why not move here and do something I love?”

This was the first time Jackie had ever mentioned a money problem. Uncle Ted had left her well off. I mean the wealthy kind of well off. If she couldn't afford to buy her apartment, her money situation had gone further south than I'd realized.

“What about the money Uncle Ted left you?” As long as we were talking, it was time to get it all on the table.

Aunt Jackie wiggled in her chair and wouldn't meet my eyes. “They told me it was a sure investment. That everyone was raking in cash from this guy. I guess I was just one of the last ones to be fooled.”

“It's all gone?” For the first time ever, my aunt looked her age, a small, defeated seventy-year-old.

“Not all, I didn't put all my eggs in one basket. But the other investments went down, too, so now I'm just trying to hold on while they build back up. And living in the city is just so expensive.” She pleaded. “Please, Jill? Let me move into the apartment? I'd pay rent.”

“Of course you can stay.” I might not like it, but I wasn't going to let her live on the street. “I've moved out most of Miss Emily's extra furniture that I'm not keeping. I'll hire movers to get my stuff out of the apartment so you can move in.”

“Thank you.” Aunt Jackie finished her wine. “Shall we have some dessert to celebrate our new arrangement?”

“Why not?” I chirped. I wasn't great at hiding my feelings, but I did a better job with a piece of chocolate mud cake in front of me. I had gained a business partner for the shop and lost my apartment in the last two hours. I'd better make Miss Emily's house meet council standards or I was going to be the one homeless.