by Неизвестный
She’d been able to keep suspicion off Jean-Paul, and find Alma’s real killer, although it had nearly cost her own life in the process. In the end, seeing Alma’s ghost be able to move on from this world to the next had made it all worth it.
Sometimes, she wished she wasn’t able to see ghosts, or talk to them, or get drawn into their after-death dramas. Being a psychic/medium was nowhere near as much fun as they made it seem on television.
Finally, Miranda pushed the plunger down on the coffee pot and poured the dark brew into their cups. Jean-Paul added just a quarter of a teaspoon of sugar to his before stirring it gently and staring into space.
“Miranda,” he said after a moment, “I just want to say merci for all the extra time you’ve been spending with me lately. You and Sapphire have been simply wonderful and I cannot imagine how I would have gotten through this without you.”
“You’re welcome, Jean-Paul. I know how hard this is for you, believe me. I know what it feels like to lose someone you care about.”
“Your friend, Kyle, you mean?”
She nodded. “Yes, my friend Kyle.”
“You miss him, non?”
What could she say to that? Looking down the long length of the scrubbed wooden table, she saw her friend Kyle drifting about and smiling at her. He looked just like he did in life, long and lanky, messy hair, even his sandals were the same. The blue aura that surrounded him would tell anyone he was a ghost though. Well. Anyone who could see him. He had stayed with her after they solved his murder, and neither of them truly understood why that was. Miranda rather wondered how she truly had time to miss him at all.
“Miranda, do you think Alma really cared for me?” Jean-Paul asked, taking Miranda by surprise.
Kyle had stayed out of the conversation until now. “Be careful what you say, Miranda. You and I know that Alma wasn’t ready for the kind of love Jean-Paul fell into. He’s the kind of guy who obsesses over regrets. Like, a lot.”
Miranda knew what he meant, and she quickly formulated an answer for Jean-Paul. “Of course she did. How could she not? But you have to stop focusing on what you’ve lost and worrying about what you meant to her. Just enjoy the memory of the good times you had with her.”
“Thank you, Miranda. What would I do without you and Sapphire?”
“Well, you’d be going without breakfast, for one thing,” Miranda said, determined to keep the mood cheerful. “But it’s a quick and easy breakfast this morning, my friend. Bacon, eggs and melon slices to be precise. Is that okay with you?”
“It sounds magnifique. Is Sapphire joining us for breakfast this morning?”
“No, she’s not. Sapphire told me that she was going to be visiting with a friend who lives on the outskirts of Moonlight Bay for a few days.”
“Oh, which friend? I believe I know most of everyone she does.”
“To be honest, I have no idea. You know how vague Sapphire can be. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you about it, you normally get more information than I do.”
“I think the person who happens to be walking past at the time is the one who gets the most information from her. Sapphire is just so spacey.” Jean-Paul smiled warmly as he said it. He did not believe in all of Sapphire’s “Gypsy nonsense” as he called it, or in Miranda’s being a psychic for that matter, but he truly cared for his friends.
“Why do people have their coffee black? I mean, look at the pair of you.” Kyle began his own little conversation, like he’d been doing a lot recently, and Miranda wished he wouldn’t. It was just so confusing for her to hear him and the living at the same time. “Me, I always liked mine with loads of cream and at least two sugars.”
Miranda had been about to tell him as much cream as he had always liked made coffee a desert rather than a drink. Knowing she was not alone, she simply mouthed the word shush.
“What are you doing?” Jean-Paul asked, seeing her pantomime to Kyle. “Are you pretending to mouth conversations to your ghosts again? I usually find that so amusing, Miranda, but not now, s’il vous plait.”
“Jean-Paul, I am psychic,” Miranda insisted with a little smile. “I know you don’t believe…”
“Then why is it you cannot contact Alma’s spirit as I have asked?”
Oh, that was such a complicated question. What Miranda did was more passive. She could reach out to ghosts, certainly, but they didn’t always answer. She was never sure if it was because the person’s spirit had gone on to another plane of existence and wasn’t available anymore, or if they simply didn’t want to pick up the call. Like when she ignored a telemarketer’s number.
Still, she opened her mouth to try and explain that to him—again—only to be interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone.
“I’m sorry Jean-Paul, I have to get this,” she told him truthfully. “It’s the house phone, not my cell. It’s going to be business.”
“Of course,” Jean-Paul said, slumping into his seat, falling back into his misery.
She felt for him, she truly did, but she also thought it might be good for them not to discuss the topic of Alma’s ghost for the umpteenth time. He really needed to start moving past this. Out in the hallway, she scooped up the receiver off the phone on its little table.
“Hello?”
“Good morning.” It was definitely a man’s voice and it had that certain creaky quality of advancing years. “May I speak with Miss Wylder?”
“This is Miranda Wylder,” Miranda answered.
“Ah, good. My name is Jonah Keaton. I’m an old investment baron who is looking for a writer of some skill to immortalize me in a written memoir. I’ve read your books. I particularly liked The Mob’s Calling. I understand that got you in a bit of hot water with certain people when you published such an accurate depiction of Mafia practices.”
His brief introduction was delivered with such a flourish that Miranda almost burst out laughing. Old investment baron? Did he mean that he had been in the business for a while or did he simply mean that he was getting on a bit? Well, she was fascinated either way.
“Oh, I see,” was all she could say.
“Quite, and I should very much like to see you today, if at all possible.”
“Today?” Now she was even more intrigued.
“Yes, I realize it’s short notice but that is how everything happens in my world, I’m afraid. Rush here, grab that. I’ve always been in stocks and shares and I do like to see things happen in the immediate, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, that’s interesting and all, Mister Keaton, but it is still rather short notice for me. I have company over.”
Miranda felt an odd sense of wariness over this out-of-the-blue phone call. After all, although she had done some article writing in her time, Miranda was all about fiction now. Why would anyone ask her to do a biography?
“I was hoping I could convince you to see me straight away,” Jonah said, his breath wheezing on an exhale. “After all, it was Miss Sapphire Moon-Flower who told me about you. I believe the two of you are friends. She’s staying with me here at the house for a few days. It seemed a good time to invite you over and discuss the matter.
“Oh, I see.” Actually, Miranda didn’t see at all. Why would Sapphire be staying with this man that Miranda had never heard of? Well, she certainly didn’t know all of Sapphire’s friends. This might be a good chance to expand the circle of people she knew.
As Miranda hesitated Jonah pressed her further. “Of course, we can discuss the monetary details when I see you, but suffice it to say that the upfront fee shall be the sum of ten thousand dollars.”
Hard to turn that down, Miranda thought. Her last novel was finished, but it would be a couple of months before it was put out in print and she wouldn’t see any royalties from it until then. A check of that amount would tide her over very nicely.
“All right, Mister Keaton,” she finally relented. “I’ll be glad to come visit with you and discuss the project. Give me the address, please. I won’
t be over until this afternoon. Like I said, I’ve got company.”
Miranda hastily jotted down his directions before saying goodbye.
By the time Miranda returned to the kitchen Jean-Paul was in the process of turning the bacon over on the grill. She gave him a quick rundown of the curious conversation with Jonah Keaton.
“What do you think, Jean-Paul? Have you heard of this Jonah Keaton?”
“The name rings a bell. I think he’s something of a Rockstar in the stocks and shares world, if such a thing exists.” He gave a little laugh. “When I say Rockstar, I mean ageing Rockstar.”
“So, you think I shouldn’t go?”
“Not at all, I think you should go. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.”
“It sounds suspicious, more like.” Kyle added and Miranda almost laughed to see him screwing his face up cynically.
“I must admit I am a little suspicious. It just seems so out of the blue and so very odd. But still, Sapphire is there at this estate, so I’ll go and listen to this offer of his. After all, nothing is decided until it’s on paper, is it?”
Looking off through the window at the outside world, Jean-Paul nodded. There was a lonely light in his eyes. “You are right, my friend. Nothing is over until it is. Then, it is quite final, is it not?”
He was talking about Alma, Miranda realized. The love he might have had, but lost. Everything that ends is final…
Down at the other end of the table, Kyle scoffed. “Then how come I’m still here?”
Chapter 2
Miranda took the coast road to the outskirts of Moonlight Bay where Jonah Keaton lived. It was a beautiful day and the sky was so blue it filled her with a sense of hope and purpose. This book idea could be a good thing for her. It would broaden her exposure to a whole new world of readers.
As she drove along Miranda could hear the seagulls cawing and squealing. She heard the waves crashing against the cliff walls below. She loved this part of Australia more than any other. Back when she used to visit her uncle here, she had always dreamed of one day living in Moonlight Bay. For now, at least, she was getting her wish.
Kyle’s hair didn’t flow in the breeze like Miranda’s did. He was completely unaffected by the movement of the car. She had tried to get him to explain how he was able to sit in a moving vehicle like this but he didn’t seem to know either. The best he could do was shrug and say, “go figure.”
Now he leaned forward, with his elbows on the seatbacks, and Miranda imagined that she could smell the sweet cologne he always used to wear. “Tell me again, will you my dear, what you got from your hour and a half of googling Mister Jonah Keaton before we left?”
“Well, although he has this grand estate, it appears that Jonah Keaton is what I suppose you would call new money. His entire fortune comes from successful stocks and shares trading that he’s carried out over the past thirty years or so. He actually comes from humble parents. From what I could see, his life story is sort of interesting. He was in the military and was wounded during active combat. After that he went to work for a small investment firm and basically worked his way up into being independently wealthy. There’s some stuff with his family, too, but I couldn’t dig up too much on that.”
“Why is it the people who come up in the world always have to buy themselves a grand estate?” Kyle said cynically.
“Really? That’s all you got from what I just said?” Miranda clucked her tongue comically, shaking her head and laughing at a typical Kyle-like observation. “Anyway, Jonah Keaton married late, in his early fifties, in fact, and has one son. After five years of marriage and a rather public divorce, the ex-Mrs. Keaton walked away from the marriage with his collection of swanky cars and his second home near Melbourne.”
“Well, if she took that much and he’s still rich enough to offer you ten grand just to write his life story,” Kyle shrugged, “I’m guessing the guy has done really well for himself over the years.”
“I guess so,” Miranda said. It was really distracting talking to Kyle, because she couldn’t focus on him in the rearview mirror like she would have done the living. Ghosts don’t cast a reflection.
“I just don’t see why he called you out of the blue to write his memoirs,” he said to her now, floating up to settle into the front seat. “I don’t like this, Miranda. It’s just giving me a feeling.”
“I know what you mean, but he said Sapphire recommended me, so I suppose the least I can do is speak to him.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to. Okay, looks like we’re more or less here. Yup, that manor house there at the end of that long drive. I think that’s it.”
She slowed, and turned into the drive, rolling through an open gate set in a wrought iron fence. Manicured shrubs lined the way.
“Wow, that is kind of big.” Kyle finally sounded just the least bit impressed. “I mean, it’s no Ragged Rest, but then what is?”
Miranda pulled the car up on a great gravel apron outside the front door of the beautiful old manor house. Before she was even out of her car, a man and a woman were already standing in front of the open door on the wide stone steps, ready to greet her.
Of the few cars parked outside, Miranda immediately spotted Sapphire’s Nissan LEAF, the only alternative powered car that she had ever seen in Moonlight Bay. The brightly colored flower stickers down one side and eyelash stickers around the headlamps had been added after market by Sapphire herself.
“Miss Wylder?” The woman, dressed in a sharp white pantsuit and wearing too much makeup, smiled as she stepped closer. She was middle aged, with tight curly hair, and the aloof mannerisms of a woman who was used to being in charge.
“Yes, I’m Miranda Wylder,” Miranda said, taking the woman’s hand and shaking it.
“Ah. Good. My name is Fiona Remington. I’m Mister Keaton’s attorney.”
Just the person, Miranda thought, to bring along when making a potential book deal. “Pleased to meet you, Fiona.”
“And this,” Fiona said with a hand held out to the man, “is Morgan Dale. He is the chef for the manor. He’ll need to know if you have any special requests.”
Miranda was confused. “Requests?”
“Why yes,” Morgan said, brightly. He was a rotund man with an easy smile, dressed in a white shirt that buttoned up the side. “We will have the greatest dinner together, you and Mister Keaton. You name the dish, I shall whip it up for you.”
“I don’t… I don’t really know,” Miranda was dumbfounded. “I didn’t realize this would be a dinner meeting. I suppose anything you make will be fine.”
Morgan actually looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be challenged to make something amazing off the cuff. “Ah, well. It will still be memorable. We will dine promptly at six. There will be soup and fresh baked bread served in the sitting room as an appetizer as soon as I return inside. If you conclude your business with Mister Keaton early enough please join the others in there.”
And with that, he turned and waddled back into the house.
Kyle floated at Miranda’s side. “He’s a… large man, isn’t he?”
“So, Fiona,” Miranda said, ignoring Kyle’s rude comment. “do you live here, too? With, um… that is, do you live here with Jonah Keaton?”
“Oh, dear me, no. It’s not like that at all. I only pop out here occasionally on business. So, if you’ll follow me to the study?”
Fiona led Miranda in through the great doorway into an immense entrance hall. It had a checkerboard sort of tile pattern on the floor, and Miranda could not help but think of some kind of stately home somewhere in England meant for royalty. All the furniture was dark and solid, and there was heavy oak paneling on every wall. Everything seemed grand and austere at the same time.
“Mister Keaton simply loves his antiques,” Fiona explained when she saw Miranda’s expression. I always thought the old place looked kind of regal. Something of a showpiece, you might say. All these details will increase t
he value of the property three times over.”
“Some people,” Kyle commented sarcastically, “have more money than sense.”
Miranda shot him a look, but wasn’t able to say whether she agreed or not with his opinion.
As they made their way along a wide and lengthy corridor, Miranda looked to her side through an open door. It took her a moment to realize it was a dining room. She almost laughed at the grandeur of it. Only that morning she had thought her kitchen table so very big and here the great mahogany dining table in the home of Jonah Keaton was more than twice the size.
The next room they came to was smaller, but still very large. This must be the sitting room that Morgan had mentioned. Couches faced each other and overstuffed chairs abounded around heavy wooden tables. Thick red curtains drawn over the windows muted the light. Three figures sat in there, talking quietly among themselves. One was a young woman who was impeccably dressed and the other a man in a rather smart looking suit. Miranda recognized neither of them. The third person at least, was a familiar face. Fiona walked right past the door and so Miranda followed.
“I recognized Sapphire, of course,” Miranda said as they continued along the corridor. “But not the others?”
Fiona was happy to explain. “The young woman is Lea Maroney, also from the world of stocks and shares. She is something of a protégé of Jonah’s.”
“Okay. And the young man?”
“Oh, that would be Algernon Keaton. He’s Jonah’s son.” The answer was rather short and Miranda couldn’t miss the sour look that crossed Fiona’s face.
“You don’t like him, I take it?” Miranda said, the question popping out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.
“Oh, I don’t really know him well enough to not like him,” Fiona hedged. The answer only served to rouse Miranda’s suspicions.
