This Old Homicide (32 page)

“Damn good thing you called,” he said. “Natty Terrell just showed up to taste Pete’s new batch of Rusty Ridge Pinot Noir. She couldn’t wait to share the story with us.”

I sighed. Natty owned the flower shop on the square and had one of the biggest mouths in town. I gave Dad the quickie version of what had happened. It was all pretty bad, but the good news was that Jane and I were fine and Jesse’s killer was in jail.

“Sorry if it disappoints Natty,” I said, “but please tell her I survived.”

“It won’t disappoint her because she’ll be able to say she got the scoop directly from the horse’s mouth. With her spreading the news, I figure the whole town should know the story by midnight.”

“Good.” I smiled. “How’s the Pinot, by the way?”

“You’re going to love it, honey,” he said. “I’ll bring you a bottle if you’ll do me a favor and stay out of trouble.”

“It’s a deal.”

I hung up the phone and gazed at my friends. It was lovely to be with people who were celebrating the fact that Jane and I were alive and well.

I caught Emily’s gaze and realized that I’d been so wrapped up in solving Jesse’s murder that I’d neglected to talk to her about what had happened the other day at her house when Gus met the ghost of Mrs. Rawley. I figured she’d already heard it all by now, but I was wrong.

“Gus Peratti was at my house?”

“Yes, a few days ago,” I said. “He said he was supposed to meet you there, but then he realized he’d made a mistake. He ended up going over to the tea shop instead.”

“That’s right. He came by the tea shop but didn’t mention that he’d been at my house.” She looked puzzled.

“You didn’t arrange to meet him at your house?”

“Of course not.” She stared at me intently. “What aren’t you telling me, Shannon?”

Was it possible that Gus had been lured to the house by something other than Emily’s request? By a lovesick ghost, maybe? Was there more going on here? Did Mrs. Rawley have powers we didn’t know about?

I told Emily what had happened to Gus while he was at her house. I tried to, anyway, but how was I supposed to explain that the ghost of Winifred Rawley had somehow entered and
mingled
with Gus’s physical body… or something like that? I still couldn’t explain it.

“Good heavens,” Emily whispered. “That sounds dangerous.”

“To tell you the truth, Gus claims he felt pretty good after it happened. But he did rush off quickly and I haven’t seen him since.”

“How… fascinating. And you witnessed the whole thing?”

“Yes. And there’s more.” I told Emily about Winifred’s diary and her secret shame, namely, the baby that resembled Giuseppe Peratti and
not
her husband.

By now, everyone in the room was engrossed in the story.

“Do you think that’s why she remains in the house?” Emily wondered.

“I do,” I said. “I think she’s been waiting for someone to discover the diary, and now that she’s got people working in the house, she’s not wasting any time. I think she pushed us to find the diary.”

“Spattering a can of paint onto the wall was probably a sign,” Mac said as he sprinkled red pepper flakes on his second piece of pizza.

“But why did Gus show up out of the blue?” Lizzie asked.

“We did have an appointment,” Emily said, as if that explained it.

“You were supposed to meet at the tea shop, not at your house.” Marigold met our gazes, her expression solemn. “I truly believe he was meant to come by the house.”

I shook my head, unsure how to respond to that. “Whether it’s true or not is a question for someone with much more knowledge of the spirit world than I have.”

“And who in the world would that be?” Jane asked dryly.

“Whoever it is that claims to be an expert,” Eric said, “you can bet they’re lying.”

Lizzie ignored Eric’s cynical stand in favor of Marigold’s statement. “Do you really think Gus was enticed there by the ghost?”

Marigold looked at me. “Don’t you, Shannon?”

I glanced around. “If I say yes, will you all think I’m crazy?”

“We already know you’re crazy,” Jane said, laughing.

I chuckled. “Maybe so. But I really do think our ghost is happier now that she’s seen Gus and knows that we found her diary.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for having happy ghosts,” Eric said, his voice only slightly mocking. “But I’m more concerned that the strange occurrences happening in the house might be the work of a human creature, not a spirit.”

Emily blinked. “You mean, somebody’s actually trying to scare me away?”

“I’m just offering an alternative theory.” He gave her a thoughtful look. “If you’d like, I’ll take a team and comb through the house to make sure there’s nothing illicit going on.”

“I would really appreciate that,” Emily said.

I applauded Eric’s offer, but I knew in my gut that he wouldn’t find anything suspicious—of the human variety. I’d seen our ghost in action and I’d read her journal. I turned to Emily. “I still believe the ghost of Mrs. Rawley is residing in your house. Maybe she would stop carrying on if you were to ask Gus to come by every so often, just to calm her down.”

“Would seeing Gus calm her down or rile her up?” Lizzie wondered.

Emily and I exchanged glances and she bit her lip. “It’s my opinion that Gus would rile any woman.”

My other friends giggled like little girls.

“I know the problem,” Hal confessed in a world-weary tone. “I have that same effect on women.”

Lizzie snorted and we all burst out laughing. I went to the kitchen to bring out another bottle of wine, and the men helped themselves to a third piece of pizza.

I was glad that Eric planned to search the house, just to give Emily some peace of mind on that front. As far as the ghost was concerned, though, I knew the issue of Winifred Rawley’s spectral presence wasn’t completely resolved. But after seeing her reaction to Gus and the discovery of the diary, I was almost certain Emily and my guys would be safe inside the house. Of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t continue to be vigilant for as long as we worked there.

A cell phone rang and Jane dashed to answer it. She spoke for only a minute and when she hung up, she looked around the table. “That was Stephen Darby. His dad called to say that Bob woke up out of his coma. The doctor thinks he’s on the road to recovery.”

I wanted to cry, I was so glad. “It’s the best news we’ve had out of this whole ugly experience.”

“I’m so relieved,” Jane said.

“Me, too,” Eric said with a firm nod. “Now he’ll be able to testify against Althea.”

*   *   *

Two days later, Jane called. “I tracked down Demetrius.”

I’d forgotten all about him. Jesse had mentioned a lawyer named Demetrius in his letter to Jane. “Where was he? And what did he tell you? Is the necklace yours?”

“He’s in Palo Alto,” she said. “And why Jesse drove all the way down there, I have no idea—except that the guy is the son of another old navy friend.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

“He’s also an expert in maritime law, another reason Jesse sought him out. Anyway, Demetrius told me there’s a case pending in some district court somewhere that could change the law enough that the necklace would no longer be my property.”

“Oh no. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Jane said. “I told him I wanted to have it returned to the Spanish royal family.”

I sat back in my chair, surprised by her decision. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. If it belongs to anyone, it belongs to them. Lizzie’s research concluded that it had to have been the property of the Spanish princess on board the
Glorious Maiden
.”

Lizzie had once studied to be a librarian and was still a research geek. Jane had begged her to look into the history of the necklace, just in case it still belonged to the royal family or if it should go to the government.

“It even has a name,” Jane added.

“The necklace has a name?”

“And the diamond, too.”

“Wow. What are their names?”

“The necklace is known as
Martillo de Oro
.”

“Do we know what that means?”

“It means Golden Hammer.”

“Hammer?” I smiled. “I like it.”

“I thought you would. Lizzie says the name was meant to imply that whoever wore the necklace held great power. The hammer is a symbol of power.”

Of course the princess would have power, but I also wondered if that great power had anything to do with the fact that a necklace that beautiful would draw men’s eyes to the woman wearing it.

“That’s so cool,” I said. “What about the diamond?”

“It was called the
Princesa Diamante
. The Princess Diamond.”

“That’s simple, but elegant.”

“Isn’t it? She was especially beloved by her people, and the diamond was created just for her, apparently, according to Lizzie. So I guess the name fits.”

“It does,” I said. “And it makes your decision to return it to the Spanish royal family even better.”

“I think so.”

“And good for Lizzie for finding out all that great information.”

“Better her than me, right?”

“Or me.” The puny bit of research I’d done on Mrs. Rawley and the Rawley Mansion had been enough to last me for a while. Lizzie, on the other hand, might still be searching out new information on every passenger on the
Glorious Maiden
’s fateful voyage. She probably had a list of every stick of jewelry and clothing they’d brought with them, maybe even traced the family names all the way to the present day. Lizzie could be a little obsessive sometimes. In this case, that wasn’t a bad thing.

I thought of something else. “Before you get rid of the necklace, we should take lots of pictures of it for the Lighthouse Museum.”

“Great idea. I’ll call the curators this afternoon.”

“I’ll miss having the necklace around,” I admitted. “It’s so gorgeous.”

“I won’t miss it at all,” Jane said. “It’s the reason Uncle Jesse was killed, so I’m perfectly happy to see it go away.”

She had a point.

*   *   *

Four days later, we celebrated Valentine’s Day in Lighthouse Cove. After all the weeks of contentious infighting between Whitney and Jennifer versus the rest of the committee members, the festivities went off without a hitch. I couldn’t have been more proud or happy.

The colorful parade down Main Street drew our biggest crowd yet. The town square was festooned with beautiful red-and-white hearts and lots of red-and-white banners that decorated the dozens of booths that were lined up around the perimeter. The vendors had gotten into the spirit of the parade theme and were serving everything from Love Dogs to Sweetheart Sundaes. There were heart-shaped hamburger buns and cookies and pies and anything else they could conjure up and serve in the shape of a heart.

The biggest foodie hit of all was something the vendor dubbed Love Bites. These were tiny slices of rare Kobe beef served between two miniature glazed donuts with a dollop of creamy horseradish sauce. It sounded horrific, but it was melt-in-your-mouth wonderful.

I knew this because I had consumed three of them so far.

All of my friends who owned shops in town had their own parade floats advertising their various businesses. Emily’s featured four little girls having a tea party in the back of the flatbed truck she’d rented for the occasion. The crowd was on their feet as our local fire engines rumbled slowly down the parade route. And the elementary school band thrilled everyone with their slightly off-key rendition of “Call Me Maybe.”

The baton twirlers were my favorites, especially the youngest ones, the Baby Batoneers. Twenty little girls between the ages of four and six wore adorable sparkly pink costumes and could barely twirl those batons between their tiny fingers. But their enthusiasm was compelling and they gave it their all, even when a few of them slipped and fell while trying to chase down the occasional errant baton.

Whitney, still fragile from Althea’s attack—and milking it for all it was worth—sat in the back of Tommy’s official police department float. She was wrapped in a cashmere blanket and waved regally as though she were Queen of the Rose Parade. The fact that she was sitting on a bale of hay and surrounded by the twelve dogs owned by the police officers on the force took nothing away from her imperious debutante demeanor.

I was very proud of the homemade float I had created. Basically it was my truck, covered in crepe paper and gauzy red-and-white hearts and flowers, and an oversized banner that read H
AMMER
C
ONSTRUCTION
C
OM
PANY
,
FOR
ALL
YOUR
BU
ILDING
NEEDS
.
Dad drove the truck and I sat in the back with a bunch of kids from the neighborhood. They all wore hard hats and tool belts and carried colorful plastic hammers, which they banged on every conceivable surface they could find. We waved and cheered and threw chocolate kisses to the crowd and we were accompanied by our pets, of course. Pets were a major theme this year, so I had Robbie and Tiger with me. Tiger didn’t appreciate having to wear a leash, but she definitely enjoyed the adulation of the crowd.

The parade announcer highlighted our choice of Eric Jensen as grand marshal of the Valentine’s Festival this year. He had been given the honor because he was our brand-new chief of police after forty years with old Chief Ray at the helm. Eric was an excellent choice because not only had he raised the morale of our police department, but he’d also solved several awful murders in the short time he’d been in the job.

And besides, who better to lead the Valentine’s Parade than someone as handsome as Eric, who set hearts fluttering all along the route?

Every woman I’d seen so far today had thanked me for choosing Eric.

It was a relief to have everything settled and back to normal, I thought as I waved to the cheering crowd. I’d experienced more than my share of drama lately and I was so looking forward to taking a nice break from all that. Then I spotted Mac in the crowd. When he grinned at me, I tossed him a chocolate kiss, which he snatched out of the air. He followed that with a wink and my insides did a happy little flip—until I found myself glancing around, checking to see if a statuesque blonde might be hovering nearby.