Little Ghost Lost (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 5) (10 page)

“You’re kidding.”

“So Captain Stone told me. And signs seem to suggest that there’s still a relationship there, the way he came storming over today to help her with her murdered husband and all.”

“Interesting.”

“So here’s what I think,” I said, leaning closer across the table. “I think when Celinda got home at 2 am, thinking Jerry was in Santa Barbara, she was planning to meet Vlad for a rendezvous. But there was Jerry, home early. They had a fight. She hit him with a vase or something. He was hurt but not dead. Vlad showed up and finished the job. Celinda raced back to Cambria and her alibi. Vlad went home and hoped Tom Hatchett hadn’t seen him.”

“Wow. That sounds like a pretty involved theory.”

“But it’s solid,” I said hopefully. “Vlad was just protecting the woman he was once married to, the woman he still, secretly loved. When he came in and saw that Jerry had hurt Celinda, he was filled with fury and he took action.”

“Uh…how does that jibe with Celinda and Richard being attracted to each other?”

“Oh. Well, just because they’re attracted doesn’t mean that all other relationships are out the window.”

“Hmm.”

Jill thought for a moment, then gave me a sideways look. “Okay Mele. We’re best friends, right?”

I nodded.
 

“And we’re pledged to always be honest with each other.”

I grimaced. “Uh, I don’t really remember pledging to that one,” I said faintly.
 

“We’re all for one and one for all,” she said, ignoring my comment.
 
“We need to watch out for each other, come hell or high water, come good times or bad, come self delusional moments, or whatever. Right?”

I nodded again, getting suspicious. “Sure.”

“Okay. I’ve got to tell you the truth. There is no way that Vlad killed Jerry. You just want it to be that way because you want to get the man out of your life. You want him arrested and gone. Right?”

I didn’t feel much like validating her entire theory, so I made a face at her instead.
 

“Oh come on, Mele. You know I’m right.”

“Maybe.”

“We can’t let ourselves get bogged down in red herrings just to satisfy our….”

I waited, tensed, for what she was going to say next. Egos? Self esteem? Self-delusional nature?
 

“Semi-justifiable wishes.”

I relaxed. She looked at me questioningly and I smiled and nodded. “Okay. I get your point. I’ll keep my speculations to myself for now.”

“Good.” She looked relieved. “We might not even need your speculations. Because I think I know who did it.”

“Who?”

“Astrid.”

I thought she was nuts, but what the heck. She was allowed to have crazy theories too.
 

“Okay. Let’s have it.”

“Here’s how I see it. Astrid and Jerry have been having an affair for weeks. Celinda is beginning to get suspicious. She plans her trip to Cambria to give them a chance to be together, only she also plans to arrive in the middle of the night and catch them at it. The only trouble is, by the time she arrives, Jerry is already dead.”

“Yowza.”

“Yes. You see, he has come back from Santa Barbara and met with Astrid, but instead of feathering a love nest, he’s planning to let Astrid know that it’s all over. He wants her gone, off the property, out of his life. And he tells her she doesn’t have any real talent anyway. That she will never be the artist Celinda is. Infuriated, Astrid picks up a heavy object and hits him in the head, then races off. In the morning, she waits until someone is there—us!--to witness her actions, then pretends to find him for the first time.”
 

She looked satisfied with that. “What do you think?”

I frowned. “I think, old buddy, old pal, that you forgot about Celinda coming home at 2 am. What about that? Why doesn’t she just call the cops at that point?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe Tom Hatchett made that up,” she said hopefully. “He seems the type to do things like that.” She frowned. “Anyway, why would Celinda go through all the trouble of taking all her art work with her up to Cambria and then just come back in the middle of the night? With no sleep, she’d be a zombie the next day. She wouldn’t be able to do anything.”

I had to hide my grin. If there was one thing Jill refused to risk, it was her beauty sleep. Being sure to get her full eight hours a night was always number one with her. “But that’s exactly what she did.”

“If we believe Tom Hatchett.”

“True.”

“Hey.” She kicked me under the table. “Look who just came in.”

I knew it had to be Roy before I turned to check.
 

She slid out and gave me a wink. “I see there’s a line beginning to form at the drink window. I’d better go help out. See you later.”

Chapter Eight

Jill waved at Roy, and then he was coming my way with a drink in his hand. I watched as he came closer, studying him, trying to analyze what made him seem so much hunkier than the other men in this place. Because he did. Oh yes he did.

It was the look in his eyes, I decided. There was confidence there, and humor, and a certain love for life that beamed out from him. When he smiled at me I couldn’t stop myself. I had to smile back.
 

“Hey pretty girl,” he said as he slid in across from me. “What kind of mischief are you two cooking up?”

“Who? Us?” I tried the wide-eyed innocent look but it just made him laugh.
 

“Yeah, you. Come on. Out with it. You’re speculating about the Jerry Moore murder, aren’t you?”

I did a coy pose. “Maybe.”

He took a long sip of his mocha, leaned back and said, “So who did it?”

“We…I don’t know.”

“Oh come on. It wouldn’t be in character for you to stay mute on this. You’ve got your murderer pegged. Who is it?”

I sighed. There was no point in pretending. Besides, we had a right to our ideas. No point in pretending otherwise.

“I say Vlad, Jill says Astrid.”

He blinked. “Vlad? Who’s Vlad?”

“My boss.”

He frowned. “I thought his name was Vance.”

“I call him Vlad, the Impaler.”

His eyes narrowed. “Interesting. Do I dare ask why?”

“It’s simple, really. He knows I call him that. It’s his own fault. He’s the one with the wicked impaling device on his desk.”

He looked puzzled. “You mean, like a sword or something?”

“No. I mean he has one of those metal spindle-type thingamajigs on his desk that we’re supposed to use to leave him notes and memos on. It’s
 
like a large nail sticking up in the air. It’s dangerous. Somebody who’s not paying enough attention is going to stab themselves in the palm of their hand as they slap down a message for him. That thing is lethal.”
 

I knew I was beginning to sound hopelessly defensive about my name-calling ways. I guess I should admit that it’s embarrassing. I know it’s childish. And yet…

Roy was looking askance. “So you call him Vlad because he impales memos.”

“Right.”

He seemed to be studying the depth of my gaze. “I guess there are all sorts of nuances to your personality I haven’t uncovered yet, aren’t there? What other little quirks are you hiding behind those pretty green eyes?”

I flushed, not really pleased, but I quickly realized it was my own fault. If I didn’t want to be patronized, maybe I ought to start acting a little more adult. So I ignored his question and went right on into my reasons for suspecting Vlad…er… Vance. And Jill’s reasons for suspecting Astrid.

“My number one suspect is actually a couple—Vlad and Celinda. And as I said, Jill is rooting for Astrid.”
 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Celinda was in Cambria.”

I stared at him. “You haven’t talked to Tom Hatchett yet, have you?”

He frowned. “The neighbor across the street? I tried, but he went into his house to get a sweater and never came back. When I went in after him, he’d disappeared. You going to tell me he’s worth pinning down?”

“Oh yeah. There’s not much that happens on that street that he doesn’t see.”

He nodded and maybe I was imagining it, but I thought he had a new light of respect in his eyes when he looked at me. I’d actually told him something he didn’t know!
 

“So what did he tell you that he hasn’t told us?” he asked me.
 

I’d been planning to keep all that to myself, but somehow it all came out: the way Tom had waylaid me at the station, Jerry’s arrival at midnight and Celinda showing up at 2 am.
 

“We knew about Jerry,” he said. “He had a receipt in his car from the In-n-Out on Marine Avenue for 11:49. But Celinda…coming back like that? I don’t think anyone even asked her about that. I’m sure she left the impression in her statement that she had proof of where she was all night. Some motel on Moonstone. We thought her arrival this morning was the only return. What did he say about her?”

“Nothing but that. I don’t think he meant to tell me about anything except Jerry, but he got excited.”
 

“She’s at the station right now, talking to the captain. Hopefully, she’s giving him the straight scoop. Otherwise…” He raised one eyebrow and left the rest to my imagination. Poor Celinda.
 

I leaned forward on my elbows, my chin in my hands. “Did you find out what Astrid was doing last night? Did she hear anything at all?”

“No. Astrid was not a factor.”

“Oh really? Jill won’t like that.”

“Too bad.”

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. I sighed and went on. “So what do the professionals think? Who done it in your book?”

He got his usual “I-can’t-tell-you, you’re not a cop” look on his face and I groaned. “Can you at least tell me if you’ve got the time of death yet?”

He looked at me for a moment, then said softly, “Forensics is saying between midnight and two am.”

I gave him my most dazzling smile. “Thank you.”

He seemed to like that. He smiled back, thought for a minute, then added, “And since you like that so much, here’s another little tidbit. It’s about Astrid.”

“Oh?”

“You can tell Jill she’s off the beam. Astrid was gone last night. Not at the Moore’s house at all.”

“Huh. Was she in Santa Barbara?” I quickly assumed she was chasing after Jerry somewhere. How funny if she’d gone to Santa Barbara at the same time he’d come back here.

“Nope. She was otherwise occupied.”

“In what way?” I said evenly, wondering if I was going to have to drag the facts out of him one by one—and with tongs.
 

He shook his head as though exasperated with me, but I could see a hint of reluctant affection shining in his eyes. “She stayed overnight with Bacco, the surfer dude who hangs around at Silver Beach.”

My own eyes practically bugged out. “Are you kidding?”

He shrugged. “He vouches for her. Says she was there from early evening to early morning. So she has an alibi for the time Jerry Moore was killed.”

“Oh, wow.” I was sitting up taller now. There was nothing I liked better than good, solid facts—especially if they were accompanied by nice juicy gossip. Roy was giving me that lopsided grin that never seemed sure if it was laughing at me or with me.
 

“See, I’m looking out for you, Mele. I know you want information.” He crinkled at me. “Hey, who loves you, baby?”

Something about his casual way of referencing it rubbed me the wrong way. For once, I didn’t smile back. “I don’t know, Roy. I’ve been wondering that myself.”

He winced. “Ouch,” he said, holding my gaze for a long, sizzling moment. Then he glanced down at his watch. “Okay, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes.”
 

As usual. “Wait! Have you found the murder weapon yet?”

“All in good time, babe. All in good time.”

He rose, gave me a grin, and headed out, leaving me to wonder if my tart retort had driven him away.
 

Before I had a chance to get morose about it, Jill was back.
 

“Anything new?” she whispered conspiratorially.
 

I looked up at her and shook my head. “Only that your suspicions of Astrid are groundless.”

“What? How come?”

“Roy says that Astrid spent the night last night with Bacco the surfer.”

She reacted in surprise. “The tall blond guy who surfs out at Silver Beach? Oooh. He’s a babe magnet, that guy.”

“How do you know? Since when have you been hanging at the beach, ogling surfers?”

Her hands went to her hips and her chin rose. “I’ll have you know that I do a lot of things you know nothing about. You’d be surprised.”

“No doubt.”

“Never mind. I also hear things, you know.” Her face darkened. “But if Astrid has a real alibi, there goes my number one candidate for murderer. Although who knows? I mean, what if he’s her cousin or something and he’s just giving her the alibi as a favor?”

I was amazed at her. “You are a skeptical one, aren’t you?”

She frowned, looking very serious. “You’ve gotta be ready for anything in this cold, cruel world.”

I managed to swallow my grin. “True.”

“So is Celinda suspect number one now?”

I shrugged. “That would be my guess. Though…you know? I hope it wasn’t her.”

“You’re the one who’s been touting the Vlad-Celinda theory.”

“I know, but I really thought he would have been the one to actually do the deed. You know? I’m still hoping Celinda didn’t do it.”

 
I told her about the time of death report and then I gathered my things for the trip home. It was getting late and I was beginning to wonder how Bebe was doing. Suddenly, I was in a hurry. I should have kept what Captain Stone had told me at the top of my priorities. Bebe was turning down dates with the captain in order to babysit? That didn’t sound like her. And anyway, it wasn’t realistic—or possible. You can’t babysit for a ghost when you can’t even see her. It’s hard enough when you can.

Bebe was in the kitchen when I walked in, grating an orange for the zest to use in the sauce for Orange Chicken.