Sue Ann Jaffarian - [Granny Apples 01]

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “Grant was my first and my only. Not that I haven’t had the opportunity. A lot of his show-biz buddies hit on me when Grant’s philandering became public. Guess they thought I’d be an easy mark.” She grinned at Tracy. “One was even a multiple Oscar winner.”

  “Well, woo-hoo.”

  In the shade of a large pine tree, the two friends sat in silence enjoying the quiet. Emma watched Granny float about the park. Tracy watched the dog wander about, seemingly following nothing. It looked to Emma like Granny was actually playing with Archie.

  After a few minutes, Tracy put her arm around her friend. “Well, Rapunzel, maybe it’s time to let down your hair and do some comparison shopping.”

  “Okay, let’s see what we have so far.” Phil cleared space on the large dining table.

  They had just finished a delicious dinner of grilled halibut, rice, and roasted fresh vegetables. Susan Steveson was cleaning up. Her husband, Glen, had retired to another room to watch TV. Archie was outside on the deck, enjoying the evening with the other dogs. After an initial few minutes of growling and posturing, he and Killer had become fast friends.

  “Let us help you with that, Susan,” Emma offered. She got up and started shuttling things to the kitchen counter.

  “No, dear,” said Susan. “You all just sit down and talk. Maybe you’ll remember something that could help the police. This won’t take but a minute anyway, and I can listen while I work. Then we’ll have coffee and pie. You know,” Susan said, winking at Emma, “strawberry-rhubarb is Phil’s favorite.”

  Emma raised an eyebrow across the table at Milo. He shrugged back with innocent, wide eyes. The three of them had contributed three different kinds of pie from the Julian Pie Company for dessert. Originally, they had ordered just two—apple and boysenberry—but at the last minute Milo felt strong vibrations about strawberry-rhubarb, telling them they just had to get that, too.

  Phil Bowers took all of the Winslow letters and fanned them out.

  “Do you have some small notepads?” Tracy asked. “We can write clues on them and use them like puzzle pieces.”

  “Good idea,” Susan called from the kitchen. “Emma, there’s some large Post-Its in that desk next to the hutch. Those might work even better.”

  Emma located the sticky notes. They were about the size of an average photograph and perfect for their use. She also brought several pens to the table.

  “Okay,” she said. “First, let’s start by listing the players.” She wrote Ian Reynolds on a note and gave it to Phil, who stuck it to the top of the table. Next, Emma wrote Garrett Bell on a note and handed it off. Soon they had the names of all people involved, both dead and alive, including herself and Milo, in a pattern across the table. Then Phil moved them into two columns, one for the dead and one for the living.

  “Hmm.” Emma looked at the columns. “I’m not so sure it’s that cut-and-dried. Some of the dead were recently alive and have contacts on both sides.” She studied the names. “Let’s start with Garrett Bell.” She took the paper with his name and moved it to the middle. “He’s the one we’re most concerned with, considering it’s his murder that’s at issue here.”

  “Enough’s enough, Emma. Go home.”

  At the sound, both Emma and Milo turned to look at the ghost of Garrett Bell. He was hovering just inside the patio door. Outside on the deck, both Archie and Killer were whining.

  “Oh my God,” said Tracy with glee. She clapped her hands together like a five-year-old with a new toy. “She’s back. This is so exciting! What’s she saying, Emma? What’s she saying?”

  “It’s not Granny. It’s the ghost of Garrett Bell.”

  From the kitchen area behind them came a loud crash. Everyone’s eyes turned to see a shocked Susan.

  “Aunt Susan, you okay?” Phil rushed to her side.

  “There’s a ghost in my house?” Susan squeaked out.

  “Don’t worry,” Milo assured her, “he won’t hurt you.”

  “It’s true, then?” She addressed Emma. “You do talk to ghosts.” Before Emma could respond, Susan turned her white face to Phil. “She really talks to the dead, Phillip?”

  “Seems so.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll get used to it.”

  “But I thought she was just a little crazy. You know, in a harmless, cute sort of way.”

  “She’s that, too, Aunt Susan. Trust me.”

  Phil bent down to pick up what Susan had dropped. “Well, folks, looks like we’re just having boysenberry and strawberry-rhubarb tonight. The apple pie bit the dust.”

  Tracy went into the kitchen and led Susan out and into one of the chairs at the table. Then she went back to help Phil clean up the mess.

  “I’m sorry, Susan,” Emma told her. “If this is too much, we’ll leave. You’ve been so kind, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I … I don’t know what to say.” Susan was dazed. “I mean, there were always rumors of ghosts in Julian. Take the hotel, for instance. Folks have said for years that Albert Robinson haunts that old hotel. Maybe it’s not just an old wives’ tale.” She paused and placed a hand over her heart.

  “Susan, you okay?” Emma crouched down next to the older woman.

  Phil dashed in. “Should I call someone?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, just a little shocked. All these years—the rumors about that property—it’s all real?”

  “What rumors?” asked Emma. Everyone moved in to hear the response.

  “That property across the way—the old Reynolds property. There were always rumors of it being haunted, too. But we never believed any of it.” She looked up at Emma, color returning to her pleasant face. “But it’s true?”

  “I don’t know if that property is haunted or not, Susan.”

  “It’s my home,” Granny said, crossing her arms in front of her. “I have every right to be there.”

  Emma looked over at Granny, who’d recently materialized in spite of Garrett’s presence.

  Emma patted Susan’s shoulder. “But if it is haunted, it’s a friendly haunting, I can assure you.”

  She cast an eye in Garrett’s direction, hoping he wouldn’t get annoyed while they comforted Susan and disappear before they had a chance to talk to him. But the spirit of Garrett Bell was still there, arms crossed, looking smug and amused by their ministrations to the older woman.

  “Oh my.” Susan shook herself slightly. “I’m so sorry I caused such a fuss.”

  “It’s okay, Susan,” said Milo. “It’s a difficult thing for some people to understand.”

  Throughout the excitement, the two little dogs had picked up their whining, giving off little yips, especially Killer.

  “Hush, Killer,” Susan told the little animal. “I’m fine.”

  Emma wasn’t sure she should tell Susan at that moment that her dog could see ghosts, too.

  “So, who wants pie and coffee?” Susan started to rise from her chair.

  “Sit still, Susan,” Tracy told her. “I’ll get everything, and Phil can help me.”

  They dished out the pie and poured the coffee while Susan got used to the idea of ghosts in her home.

  “Okay,” Phil said, as soon as Tracy returned from shuttling pie and coffee to Glen, “back to the drawing board.” He bent back over their notes.

  “Touching scene, Emma. But you still need to leave.” Garrett moved closer to her. Granny moved between them like peanut butter between two slices of bread. Milo watched in silence.

  Emma looked at Susan, who sat at the table sipping her coffee slowly, holding it with slightly shaking hands. Then she glanced at Milo, hoping he could read her eyes, if not her thoughts. They needed to talk to Garrett’s ghost, but Emma did not want to do it in front of the rattled Susan. Milo was doing his own volley of glances, sending Emma messages with looks
over the top rim of his glasses.

  After taking several quick bites of his pie, Milo stood up with his coffee. “I’m going to go outside and talk to Garrett. I think it will go better in private.”

  Susan looked up at him. “Please, don’t feel you need to do this because of me. I’ll be fine with this as soon as I get used to it.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone. “It’s actually all very fascinating.”

  Milo smiled at her. He knew that once people got over the initial shock, they usually did find the idea of ghosts walking amongst them intriguing. It was usually total denial or complete interest. There was seldom a gray area when it came to the living’s acceptance of the dead.

  “Something tells me, Susan,” he said, looking at Phil, who was engrossed in the notes on the table, then at Emma, “that you will have many opportunities to enjoy your new spirit friends.” Emma caught the look and threw a frown back at him. He returned a grin as crooked as his glasses.

  “Milo’s right,” Emma said, running her fingers through her hair in annoyance. “Garrett needs to be questioned.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be questioned.”

  Milo looked at Garrett Bell’s ghost. “It’s your choice, of course, Garrett. We can’t force you. But for once in your life, why not do something decent?”

  Granny was examining Phil. “Milo’s right. I think we’ll be seeing a lot of these folks in the future.”

  She nodded with satisfaction, as if judging a job well done, and started for the patio door. “I think,” said the ornery spirit, “that I’ll go outside and see if I can help Milo.”

  “What puzzles me,” Emma said after Milo and the ghosts left, “is why did someone want to scare me off when I was leaving town already?”

  Tracy, Susan, and Phil all stopped and looked at her as if she’d just spoken in Swahili. She took note of their stares. “What?”

  Phil spoke first. “Whoever put those snakes in your car, Emma, wasn’t trying to scare you off, they were trying to kill you.” He said the words calmly but without a sugar coating.

  Emma dropped into a nearby chair and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders began to shake as if with a seizure. Tracy jumped to her side.

  “It’s going to be okay, Emma.” Tracy rubbed Emma’s back. “Between us and the police, we’ll figure out who did this.”

  “But why?” Emma stopped shaking and got a grip on her emotions. “Why me? I just wanted to find out about Granny. What reason would anyone have to want me dead?”

  “How about that ex of yours?” The question came from Phil.

  Tracy and Emma turned their heads toward Phil with the unison of synchronized swimmers.

  “Grant?” Emma’s voice shook. “You think Grant might have done this?”

  Phil shrugged. “Just saying that if it’s not the same person who killed Garrett Bell, your ex might be a possibility. I don’t know the guy. Is he capable of doing something like this?”

  “You are battling over a lot of money, Emma.” Tracy plopped down in a chair next to Emma to think the theory over.

  “No. It can’t be true. Grant’s many things, but a murderer?” Emma shook her head. “Besides, he’s in Europe with our daughter.”

  “Sounds like a good alibi to me. Better than sleeping with a ghost.”

  Seeing Emma’s feathers ruffle at Phil’s words, Susan broke in. “Emma, dear, it may not be true, but we really should consider all possibilities here. It could be that the murder in the cemetery and the attempt on your life aren’t even related.”

  “The police did ask me a lot of questions about Grant and our divorce proceedings.” After a moment, Emma stood up and shimmied her body, ridding herself of the possibility like old skin. “No, I just won’t believe it. You guys can put it on the table as a possibility—a long shot, a very long shot—but I’m going to refuse to consider it until it stares me in the face, naked and raw. Grant is vain and arrogant and a total fool, but I’ve never known him to have a vicious, evil streak.” She remembered the way he stroked her hair at Kelly’s party. “No, I just can’t.”

  “What about Carolyn?” offered Tracy.

  Emma pondered the idea. “Now that’s a possibility. But I still believe whoever wanted me—,” she paused as another shock of fear zigzagged through her body, “whoever did this—is connected to Garrett Bell and Ian Reynolds.”

  “I think you’re right.” They all turned to see Milo Ravenscroft coming back through the patio doors.

  “Did Granny or Garrett tell you anything?” Emma’s voice was swollen with hope.

  “Yes and no,” Milo answered. “Granny wasn’t able to connect with the spirit of the real Ian Reynolds, but I did get Garrett to confirm that this is all about gold, even the attempt on your life.”

  Phil stepped forward. “But that doesn’t make sense. There’s been no gold here for decades, possibly over a hundred years. How many times do I have to tell you people that?”

  Milo shrugged. “Garrett wasn’t saying much, but he’s determined that Emma should go home as soon as possible. Said he’s had his fun.” On the way to the Bowers ranch, Emma had told Milo and Tracy about Garrett’s visit to the cottage and his appearance at the scene of the accident. “Wouldn’t say who killed him, though he knows. He’s gone now.”

  Milo walked to the kitchen and topped off his coffee mug from the pot on the counter. “He definitely said it was about gold.” He took a drink. “And he mentioned a name—Billy. Said to ask him.”

  “Billy?” Emma stared in surprise.

  “Yes, Billy. Isn’t that the name of the young ghost you spoke to? The one everyone thought killed himself?”

  “Yes, that’s him.” Emma sat down again and thought about Billy, his murder, and what he’d said to her. “I was speaking with Billy when Garrett was spying on me in the cemetery. That’s when the other ghosts scattered.”

  Emma stood up and studied the names on the table. Picking up a Post-It, she jotted gold on it and stuck it in on the table. Then she picked up other notes and positioned them in two columns under it. Stuck in a row to the right went present-day people, alive and dead, including a note with a big question mark on it to represent Garrett’s unknown killer. To the left, she lined up the people from the past. She put the past folks in chronological order. Jacob and Ish Reynolds were first, since Jacob discovered the gold first. Then came Winston, who either didn’t know about it or didn’t care. Under him went Big John Winslow and Billy, plus a sticky note with Bobcat and Parker written on it to represent Winslow’s accomplices. Next came Buck Bowers.

  Emma looked at Susan. “Did you ever hear anything in your family’s history about gold on that property?”

  Susan Steveson shook her head. “Never.” She turned to her nephew. “How about you, Phil?”

  “Nothing.”

  Picking up the letters from John Winslow, Emma scanned them once more, trying to find overlooked information or even something written between the lines.

  “According to these, we can piece together that John and his gang killed Jacob and hung Ish, and that they did it as part of their plan to get their hands on the gold Jacob had discovered. By hanging Ish vigilante-style, they made sure there were no further questions and investigation. Rumor circulated that she was killed for murdering her husband, and people accepted that, even if some didn’t believe it. Granny said that Parker was very mean. A snake, she called him.” Emma paused to shudder before continuing. “Maybe some people knew but were afraid of this Parker guy. Either way, it went down in history that she killed Jacob. Winston Reynolds didn’t want to stay in Julian, and he trusted Billy’s father. He was probably happy to sell the property and move on with his life, leaving behind the double tragedy.”

  Emma stared at the notes on the table, willing them to talk to her. She tapped
a finger on the one with the names Bobcat and Parker. “Granny said that this Parker fellow owned the property on the other side of them.” She looked at Susan and Phil. “What property would she mean? And is there still a Parker family in the area?”

  Susan spoke up. “The Parker property was on the other side, just beyond the woods and stream. But the Parker family hasn’t owned it in over fifty years. I remember when they sold it and moved. I was just a young girl, and they had two daughters near my age.”

  Emma looked around but didn’t see Granny. “Milo, did Ish leave?”

  Before he could answer, Granny spoke up. “I’m here, Emma.”

  Emma looked in the direction of the deck and saw the ghost’s image slowly come into view.

  “Granny, did Winston know about the gold Jacob found?”

  The ghost paused a moment to think. “I don’t believe so. I thought it best he not know right off. And Jacob found it shortly before he was killed.”

  “Okay,” Emma said, moving along on her thought trail. “So Winston was in the dark about the gold and his parents’ deaths. He takes the money from the land and leaves town to start a new life.”

  She paused to look around. Everyone was listening with rapt attention, following her logic as she pieced together the events.

  “Billy told me,” she continued, “that his mother left because of what his father did. She obviously didn’t tell anyone about it, but she left. Then Billy was killed, and it was made to look like a suicide. Billy said he was killed because he knew what his father had done.”

  “I think Billy’s the key,” said Milo.

  Emma scanned the papers. “I think you’re right, Milo. In fact, in this last letter, John Winslow refers to something Billy did. Something ‘he ought not have done’ but for which his father accepts full blame. That might reference the fact that Billy knew about the killings and was going to tell.”

  “Or,” added Phil, “it could be more literal. Maybe Billy did do something that got him killed. Some action, like already telling someone. Or it could be that Billy interfered in some way with their plans.”