Flamingo Realty Mystery Box Set

by CeeCee James

  How would I go about finding the answers to something like that? I chewed my thumb. Maybe I could drop a call to the police officer who’d interviewed me that day I found the skeleton.

  And what happened to the baby? Now I knew he wasn’t a rumor. I saw him with my own eyes in the picture. Was Kari’s story correct? Had he grown up only to run away to the circus? Maybe I could poke around and see if I could find out more.

  In the meantime, real life was still happening, and I needed to pay rent. Since this day was kind of a bust, I called my landlord to see if I could drop off the check.

  Gaila Crawford and her family had lived in the area forever. Actually, this visit could really work for me. Surely, she knew the Valentines. She was in her seventies or so, herself. Perhaps she went to school with the three siblings.

  Even more on my mind was if she knew about the baby.

  I pulled over to the side of the road and found her number.

  It rang and rang. An uneasy feeling made me wince as I wondered if I should wait for the answering machine, or if I had now entered the annoying territory of letting the phone ring too much.

  “Hello?” A pleasant woman’s voice came through the receiver.

  “Hi, Mrs. Crawford? It’s Stella. I’m out and about and wondered if I could drop off my rent to you, if it wouldn’t be a bother.”

  “Collecting money? No bother at all.” Her voice hinted at humor. She rattled off her address and then ended with, “Though I suppose I should give you a deduction after the toilet fiasco. Is everything working well now?”

  I assured her it was.

  She continued, her smooth voice bringing to mind one of Hollywood’s old time starlets, “It’s a little bit of a drive. I’ll see you soon.”

  I quickly mapped her address and saw she lived about twenty minutes in the opposite direction. I popped the radio on and spun the car around.

  It turned into a beautiful day, one of those dog days of fall that began with the bite of cold but warmed up to unseasonable levels later in the afternoon. It was such a welcome reprieve after the storms we’d had.

  The directions took me to the left down a dirt road. Acres of green fields welcomed me into the rural farmland. A cloud followed behind my car, announcing to everyone for miles around that I was on my way.

  I had to say, dirt roads still caught me by surprise. Out in Seattle, most of the roads were paved, outside of a few logging roads or county transfer roads.

  Mrs. Crawford’s house sat on the pinnacle of a rolling hill like the star jewel on a crown. I was searching for the driveway when I spotted a bright red object out in the middle of the meadow. It kind of hypnotized me, being so unexpected. Then I saw it move.

  What the heck?

  As I got closer I saw it was bell-shaped. And closer still proved that it was an umbrella. I realized it was Mrs. Crawford wandering her field, shielded from the sun by a giant red umbrella.

  My phone beeped a command that I’d arrived. I pulled down her driveway and braked, the car softly jerking at the stop. I rummaged through my purse and grabbed the check.

  A breeze, carrying the warm scent of dried grass, lifted my hair as I climbed out. I sniffed deeply. It was interesting how every area had its own bouquet. To me, Western Washington was all ocean water and blackberries and fresh. It was fresh here as well, but different. I breathed in again, taking it to the bottom of my lungs as I walked out into the field.

  Insect buzzing came from all directions in the grass. Grasshoppers jumped in front of me and tiny bugs clouded together in the sunlight. I had no idea what they were and held my breath as I walked past them.

  After a moment, I noticed my pant legs were wet. Around me were white nests housing spit bugs. That nearly made me halt my journey altogether, until I noticed Mrs. Crawford was moving farther away.

  I took a few steps to the left where I saw a path had already been cleared, presumably by Mrs. Crawford herself. I was about halfway there when she turned and saw me.

  “Stella, is that you?” she called.

  The sun was in my eyes. I shielded them and could see her peeking out from underneath her umbrella. She wore a flowing white shirt and matching pants.

  “Hi, Mrs. Crawford.” I waved and trudged forward.

  She walked in my direction, her pace much more leisurely. When I reached her, she was studying the horizon with a small smile on her face.

  “Look. You see down there?” Her chin raised in the direction.

  I turned and saw a dark smudge in the distance.

  “That’s where I spent every afternoon during the summer.” She moved her umbrella back and allowed herself a quick peek at the sky. “Yes, the sun was right about there, and I didn’t leave until the sun sank low enough to kiss the ground.” She smiled at me, flashing strong white teeth. “Now, how are you this afternoon, Stella?”

  “I’m good.”

  “Are you?” Her brows slightly pursed together.

  I don’t know what magic powers that woman had, but I swear those two words nearly undid me. Was it finding the skeleton? Missing my life in Seattle?

  She didn’t say anything more, just kept those soft gray eyes focused on me.

  Finally I’d pulled myself together enough to shrug. “Everything’s great. I love the little house.”

  “Oh, that little house.” She started walking forward again. “It’s quite the special place. It was my first home, and I even came back here when I was married. Years ago, of course.”

  “Really? That’s so interesting.”

  “Mr. Crawford was a museum curator up in Pittsburgh. He was quite a bit older than myself. Of course, you’d never know by how he chased me in those days.”

  The grass softly swished against the fabric of her pants.

  “So, you never mentioned why you moved here,” she murmured.

  “Oh, I didn’t? It was for a job.”

  “Yes, you mentioned a job, but not the real reason.”

  I stopped again. “How do you know these things?”

  She softly laughed. “Oh, darling. It doesn’t take much to know that a person doesn’t pack up and move cross country for a job at a realty office. Not that I’m short-selling our beautiful state. Pennsylvania is amazing. But I figured it was something else.”

  “Okay,” I laughed.

  She let the question slide. “So you have my rent money, do you?”

  I handed her the check.

  “And how do you like your new realty job?”

  “It’s been…interesting. I’m helping to sell the Valentine Manor.”

  “Well, my goodness. They practically threw you to the wolves, didn’t they?”

  “You know about them?”

  She smiled and twirled her umbrella slightly. “Darlin’, you’d be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t, around here.”

  I hesitated for a second and then blurted out. “I found something there. Something horrible.”

  “Do tell.”

  “It was a skeleton stuck up in the nanny’s bed.”

  “Well now, they always said there were skeletons in the closet but that’s taking it a bit literally.”

  “Ms. Valentine said she thinks it was someone who broke in.” I bit my lip, kind of afraid to continue. “I have a crazy theory. There’s rumors of another brother who joined the circus. I wondered if they were referring to a young man named Kyle who lived there at one time. No one seems to know where he is.”

  She hummed, “Mmm, I know what you’re going to say. You think those could be long lost Kyle’s bones.”

  “Yeah! Do you think it could be?”

  “I think it’s most certainly not.” She gave an emphatic nod to punctuate the thought.

  My mouth dropped. “Are you sure? I mean, it fits…”

  “I’m positive. In fact, I have a little secret to tell you.” She lowered the umbrella. “Why don’t you come inside for a glass of ice tea.”

  Chapter 12

  Mrs. Crawford walked up
her porch steps. She skirted a planter filled with lush ferns and opened the screen door.

  “You thirsty?” she asked.

  Well, after that last comment, I sure was. I nodded.

  “Come on in. I have some fresh lemon cookies I just made this morning. Heaven only knows why I do that to myself. After a certain age, a woman has to watch every bite. But as luck would have it, you can help me eat them.”

  I smiled and followed her into the house.

  It was cool inside, painted a soft blue. White wood trim wrapped around the doors and windows. The floor creaked as I walked, a comforting creak. The kind that says, it’s been a long day and you’re home now.

  “Shall we eat out on the sun porch?” she asked. “Might as well take advantage of the sunshine while we have it.”

  Of course, I nodded. She was already leading the way to a large screened room filled with white wicker furniture. Hanging baskets of flowers decorated the corners. She flipped the switch for an overhead fan, its blades four white palm leaves, and then gestured to a chair.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, her caftan top flowing softly with her movement.

  I pulled out a chair and briefly admired the floral cushion. The room looked out onto the meadow we’d just traveled through. It was cooler in here. I heard a sound of bells, which momentarily made my heart leap. But a quick look around identified them as a small set of wind chimes.

  “So.” Mrs. Crawford breezed back through the doorway. She had a tray in her hand with two ice-filled glasses of tea. She set it on the table and I saw a few powered-sugar lemon cookies sitting on a plate. She settled into the chair across from me and took her glass.

  “There’s some sugar on the tray if you need your tea sweetened,” she said.

  I lifted a frosty glass and took a sip. I tried not to pucker. It did indeed need some sugar.

  She laughed and nudged the sugar bowl closer to me. As I stirred in a spoonful, she leaned back in her chair and looked out into the meadow.

  “It really is lovely this time of year,” she reminisced.

  I nodded.

  “Please, have a cookie,” she said.

  I grabbed one and, since she was watching closely, took a big bite. “Mmm, so good,” I said. And I meant it.

  “Wonderful. It was my mother’s recipe. She used to make it on days like this.” She took a sip and set her glass down. “I promised you a story.”

  Excitement hit me, possibly fueled by the sugar. Finally, I was going to get some answers.

  “So, I know the skeleton can’t be Kyle’s.” She smiled, just a tiny one. I held my breath. “Because I knew him quite well.” Her finger ran under a turquoise necklace she was wearing.

  “You knew him?”

  “I most certainly knew Kyle. I went to school with him. He was a few years older than me. He may have been a bit smitten with me.”

  “Do you know where he went?”

  “Oh, that man. After the war, he was like a piece of crumpled paper that flew where the wind took him.”

  How do I bring up the obvious in a way that won’t offend her? I bit my lip, and then began, “But it’s possible that he may have returned home. Maybe he didn’t let anyone know?”

  She chuckled. “Well, anything’s possible.” Her finger went under the necklace again. “Except that I’ve heard from him recently.”

  Every nerve on my body jumped at her words. “What?” I managed to squeak out.

  “I did. And I have this to show you.”

  She reached into her pocket and held out a little porcelain squirrel. The figurine was not more than three-quarters of an inch high.

  “Cute,” I said as I took it from her. I glanced at her questioningly.

  “He gave it to me in high school, many moons ago.” She smiled. “It was supposed to be my good luck charm. I had a test in chemistry that week. He knew I was worried and told me it would help me pass.”

  “And did it?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know if it helped. I did narrowly squeak by. But I had so many other worries at that age.” She flashed me a grin. “Like who to invite to the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

  “Did you invite Kyle?” I set the squirrel down.

  “No, and that was part of my worry. You see, I had a crush on the band leader—I always had a penchant for those nerdy, brainy types. And I didn’t want to lead Kyle on. He understood, I think.”

  “So, you heard from him recently?”

  She nodded. “I did. Just a quick note asking how I was. There was no return address, but it was stamped from Morocco.”

  “Really. Did you think it was odd to hear from him after all these years?”

  “Oh, at our age you tend to reminisce, maybe get a little nostalgic about the past. You start having more friends die than are living, and you want to check in on the living ones. So, no, I didn’t think it was strange. Rather, I thought it was nice to hear from him.”

  “Was that the first time you’d heard from him since high school?”

  “No, he used to write me a long time ago. And I’d write him back, just chatty letters about where life was taking us. Then there was the time I saw him for a minute about ten years ago. He said he was passing through.” She touched the turquoise necklace. “He said he wanted to give this to me. I often wondered if he was checking in on me to see if I was still married.” She shook her head sadly. “I was, but I lost poor Mr. Crawford a month later.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Oh, it’s fine. It was a long time ago. The living keep on living.”

  I nodded. “Did you tell anyone? Maybe the Valentines?”

  “Now, why would I do that when they were the very reason he left our little town?” Her gray eyes widened. “That would betray the very fabric of our friendship.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course, I understand. But, can you tell me, what it was he was escaping, exactly?”

  She smiled again. “What do we all run from? Ghosts from the past. He was married once. It ended in a disaster.”

  “How did Kyle end up living with the Valentines?”

  “Kyle lost his parents as a senior in high school. Mr. Valentine saw a lot of promise in him and brought him under his wing.” She shook her head. “I often wonder if he regretted that. Kyle was quite wicked.”

  “Wicked, huh? That’s a strong word.”

  “Strong? Well, honey, everyone around these parts knows that Kyle was a troublemaker.”

  “I’ve actually heard that it was both Richard and—”

  “Oh, that man.” She made a face. “He comes driving like a crazy person up and down this road. I heard tell he likes the way the car catches air when he races over the hill, but who’s to know, really? Stay far from him.”

  “I’m trying,” I said. “He shows up at the oddest times.” I decided to ask my big question. “While I was there, I saw a picture of a fourth child. A baby. Do you know anything about him?”

  She glanced at my glass. “Have you finished?”

  The question was so abrupt and worded in a way that I wasn’t sure if I was being dismissed or if she wanted to give me a refill. I confess, my mouth dropped open.

  Then she turned away, and her forehead creased in such a way that she looked worried. I realized that maybe the subject of a baby was off limits for some reason.

  I stood up. “It was so refreshing. Thank you. Well, I better get going. So much to do and so little time.”

  She chuckled. “I wasn’t rushing you out. It’s nice to have company out here on the farm.” Still, she stood when I did, and lightly set down her napkin. She reached her hand out to mine and I thought she wanted to shake. So it was with some surprise when I saw the little glass squirrel in my palm.

  “I want you to have this. It may bring you some good luck in selling that old Valentine place.”

  “Aw, are you sure? It’s so special.”

  “No, no. You take it. I have a feeling you might need all the help you can get.”

&n
bsp; “Thank you,” I said. I examined it quickly and then tucked it into my pocket.

  She started toward the door and I followed her.

  Casually, she said, “Now, I hope you have a good day. Let’s do this again next month. I’ve enjoyed it immensely.” She opened it for me and stood back.

  I flushed, pleased to be invited back again. “Absolutely!” I stepped onto the porch and stuck my hand into my pocket, feeling the squirrel.

  “And maybe then you can fill me in on what you’re escaping, yourself.” She smiled again and then slowly shut the door.

  Chapter 13

  I headed to my car with the squirrel in hand, hardly believing that Mrs. Crawford gave it to me. I jiggled it and then tucked it in my pocket.

  It wasn’t quite dark out. Still, I flipped on my headlights because it was that weird in-between stage. Carefully, I backed out the driveway and turned onto the road.

  The sky was a soft blue-gray with the sun a dark orange ball on the horizon. Trees flashed by like black shadows. It was so gorgeous out here. What really amazed me was how country the country was. There were no house or street lights that broke the darkness of the woods or fields.

  As I drove, Mrs. Crawford’s question replayed in my mind. The first one she asked, the one I ignored and she’d hinted at again.

  Are you running from something?

  I’d always prided myself on being reserved. Pride was a good choice, because it was something I really couldn’t change about myself. I watched people carefully to see if they were trustworthy. It wasn’t hard for me to get a red flag.

  I didn’t share what I was dealing with in life, not really. My dad was a pull yourself up by your own bootstraps kind of guy. He had drilled into me to keep those emotions bottled inside in case someone saw you as weak.

  I said that I moved to Pennsylvania for a new beginning. That was the safest answer, and one that my uncle, Kari and even my dad accepted.

  Heck, it was the truth. I chose Brookfield, Pennsylvania because it was a place I could rebuild my life and still have family around. Dad suspected my grandpa was part of that equation. I didn’t deny or confirm that to him. That was still a safe assumption.