“Good ol’ boys like to have their fun, don’t they?” I let it go at that. Murray was convinced she could win him over, and nothing I’d said over the past month had made an impression. She’d have to figure this one when she was ready.
“So what’s up?” she asked. I heard the shuffle of papers, then the sound of a soda being opened.
Of course she knew all about Daniel from the news at the station, but I told the story from my perspective. “It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone, Mur.” I was still running a lot of guilt over having played a part in his death, but she reassured me that I’d done nothing wrong.
“Even if you hadn’t called out at that exact moment, the officers on the scene think that the van would have managed to hit Daniel. It was just a weird coincidence that you were there, Em. Don’t let yourself get too upset over it.”
“Thanks. I really needed to hear you say that. I’ve been feeling so guilty over his death.”
“Well, don’t.”
I asked her about the dragon, and she reiterated what Deacon told me. “In fact, it’s probably safer with you than in our holding room. I like these guys, but we have our share of bad apples, and sometimes expensive things disappear.”
Maybe she was right. I sighed. “Daniel seemed so lonely. Were you able to find out anything about him?”
“He was just one of a thousand loners, Em. We couldn’t find a current address, and the one listed on his driver’s license is out of date by two years. Landlord said one day Daniel up and sold all his stuff, packed up a suitcase, and took off. We couldn’t find any sign of family, anywhere.”
Somehow, her news didn’t surprise me. When I thought of Daniel and his untimely end, the weight of the world seemed to settle in on my shoulders. His life had obviously been about as dismal as his death. I shifted the subject to a happier topic—the camping trip the kids and I’d been planning—and we chatted for a few more minutes before my doorbell rang. With a hasty good-bye, I hung up and answered the door.
Ida was standing on the porch, her nephew in tow, a worried look on her face. Oliver was a surprisingly short man and didn’t look at all like I’d expected him to. He stood only an inch or so taller than his aunt, and his skin had an unhealthy pallor, like clotted cream. His closely cropped hair was beginning to recede, and he looked like he’d been locked away for a few years. His eyes were a preternatural gray, darting around as Ida introduced us, as if he were constantly thinking. In a threadbare pair of corduroy trousers and beige shirt at least one size too big for him, Oliver Hoffman looked older than the twenty-six he was supposed to be.
I took Ida’s arm and walked her into the kitchen, while Oliver wandered over to the étagère. “Oliver seems a little… spooked?” I offered, not saying what I really wanted to say which was that Oliver had immediately struck me as being a little squirrelly.
“Yes, I noticed that, too.” Ida peeked into the living room to make sure we couldn’t be heard. “He seems a lot more depressed than he did last week when we talked on the phone. And he didn’t quite grow into the man I thought he would; his father was a tall, hefty man. Caroline was short, but stout. Oliver seems awfully thin, but then again, he always was a scrawny lad when he was young. It’s more his attitude that worries me, though. A month ago, he couldn’t wait to get out of prison. Now… I’m not so sure.”
“Do you think he needs counseling to help him cope with the change?” I asked, not knowing what else to say.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s nothing I can even put my finger on. The boy just seems strained. Maybe the stress of getting out has affected him more than he wants to admit. He says he’s fine, and I suppose he knows best. But, Emerald, I’ve got another problem I need your help with.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“My friend Desdemona, the one who lives in Sand-point, Idaho, was in a serious accident. She was driving back from Coeur d’Alene when a logging truck came barreling around the curve in the road and veered into her lane. She swerved to miss it and hit a tree. She survived, but she’s going home from the hospital tomorrow, and she’ll be bedridden for a while and needs help. Since she doesn’t have any children or the money for home health care, I’ve decided to drive over to help out for a few days until her niece can fly up from Florida. I’m just a little worried about leaving Oliver alone.”
I glanced back into the living room at him; he was staring at my collection of crystal and figurines. “I’m sure things will be okay. Would you like me to keep an eye on him for you?”
A look of relief swept across her face. “I’d be so grateful. It’s not that I don’t trust him or that I want to check up on him… I’m just…”
“You’re just worried,” I finished for her, resting my hand on her shoulder. “You go help Desdemona, and I’ll keep watch after Oliver and try to make him feel welcome.” Reassured, she let out a sigh of relief, and we returned to the living room.
Oliver jerked his head up and gave me a polite smile. “You have some lovely pieces,” he said. “I take it you love art?”
“Crystal and china, actually. They’re two of my greatest passions.” I gave him a radiant smile, hoping to cajole him out of his reticence. “Tea would be a third.”
“You’re lucky to have turned your passion into your work,” he said and flashed me a grin with just enough warmth behind it to make me think that maybe it was just the stress of having to face readjusting to the outside world that made him seem so strange. Maybe prison hadn’t killed his spirit after all.
While I served tea and cookies, Ida pored over the dragon. I filled Oliver in on what had happened with Daniel so he wouldn’t feel left out of the conversation. “It was quite the shock; one I’d rather not go through again. I think it’s going to take a while for me to cope with his death.”
“And they still have no idea who killed him?” Ida asked.
“Apparently not. It was a hit-and-run, no doubt about that, but I don’t think anybody there could see the driver, and nobody managed to get the license plate. It happened so fast.”
She sighed. “People are so careless, they drive like they own the road. Look at poor Desdemona. So, what are you going to do with the dragon?” Ida turned it over in her palm. “This doesn’t look like any ordinary mass-market sculpture.”
Oliver peered over her shoulder. “Aunt Ida’s right. I think it might be valuable.”
What was I going to do with it? I could keep it locked up here with the rest of my collection, but it was so beautiful that I wanted others to have the chance to see it, too. “I think I’ll take it to the shop with me. I can display it in the Not-For-Sale cabinet. When I find Daniel’s next of kin, I’ll return it to them. I wouldn’t feel right about keeping it.”
“Good girl. You keep that cabinet locked, don’t you?”
I nodded. I had to. There were items in the NFS cabinet that I’d be devastated to lose, and yet I enjoyed giving others the chance to see them.
“Well, I’m glad about that,” Ida said. “I still think you should really get a security system. You’re far too trusting.” She sounded just like the schoolteacher she’d once been, prim and stern, no-nonsense.
I flashed her a sheepish grin. “Yes, Mrs. Trask,” I said, mimicking the hundreds of children that had passed through her classrooms and day care. Truth was, though, I didn’t think of myself as trusting. I had a good solid dead bolt on the shop door and sturdy locks on all of the cabinets that held the most expensive pieces. “We live in Chiqetaw, Ida. People here are honest.”
“Don’t kid yourself. The world intrudes everywhere. You of all people should know that we have our share of nuts and psychos.”
I didn’t want to think about psychos. I’d had my fill of them near Christmas when I’d almost been killed by one. I tucked the dragon back in the cabinet and offered them more cookies. The conversation turned toward school and art history and whether or not Oliver would find it difficult t
o get full credit for all the work he did before he was arrested. After about an hour, they stood up to leave. “Ida, be careful on your trip. Send my best wishes to your friend, and call me when you get the chance.” I gave the older woman a hug, holding her tight as if I could protect her with my embrace.
She kissed me on the cheek. “My dear, I promise to be careful. Look after my nephew for me, would you?” I promised, offering Oliver my hand. He accepted with a genteel nod that didn’t fit his grungy attire, and they took off for home. I watched them walk past the lot of blackberries that bordered the side of my own house. With Ida Trask up the street to my left and Horvald Ledbetter directly across from me, I had lucked out in neighbors, that was for sure. Horvald might be an odd duck, but he always had a smile and wave for us.
I shook my head as I looked at the berry vines creeping over my fence. I should really hound the city to do something about them. The brambles had engulfed whatever might be hiding on the lot next door. They were so thick that they could hide a house under that pile of vines and thorns and nobody would ever know. I’d taken to hiring a man to prune them back twice a year, halting their attempt to breach my fence.
As I watched Ida’s retreating back, I found myself restless, unsettled. Maybe I should do a reading, make sure she’d be okay, considering what had happened today. I went so far as to pull out the deck from my rolltop desk, then replaced the cards in their well-worn spot. There was nothing I could say that would make her stay home and, if danger was in the offing, I couldn’t do anything to prevent it. And frankly, I didn’t have the heart to peek.
I WAS JUST about to peel the loincloth off the gorgeous Polynesian man when a shriek cut through my dream and rudely dragged me away from the tropical island getaway my subconscious had so graciously created for me. Miranda! I tumbled out of bed and pounded down the hallway. Her door was open, the light was on, and my daughter was cursing a blue streak as she slipped out the window onto the roof.
“What’s going on in here? Are you okay? Where did you learn that kind of language?” When I saw that she wasn’t hurt, irritation took over. I glanced at her clock. Two A.M.? I never allowed her to stay up that late unless there was supposed to be some incredible astronomical display. I followed her out onto the roof. A lovely flat area right outside her window made the perfect viewing perch for her to watch the stars, and I’d paid a carpenter to come in mid-March and reinforce the guardrail that protected her from falling over the edge. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the railing. “My telescope. A big crash woke me up, and I looked out… it’s gone.”
We both cautiously leaned over the rail, but it was too dark to see anything. I looked around. Nobody could have been out on this roof. The wind was calm, and everything seemed undisturbed. Maybe a sudden gust? The wind often picked up around here without much of a warning. “Well, get your bathrobe and slippers on and let’s go downstairs.”
I pulled on my sweats and slipped into my huaraches. While I was waiting for Miranda, I peeked into Kip’s room. He was breathing deeply, sound asleep. Good, he didn’t need to be up during the middle of the night. Randa and I padded downstairs and out the front door. I switched on the floodlight, and we peered over the low wall of the porch into the front yard. There, glittering under the light, was Miranda’s new telescope. She let out a groan and raced down the side steps and around into the lawn. A large cedar bough lay near it, the end freshly broken. I picked up the branch and examined it as Randa knelt near the main tube of the telescope, her expression heartsick.
“My new telescope! You gave it to me for Christmas!” She gathered it up in her arms; the tube was dented, the tripod legs broken. Without asking, I knew that the lens hadn’t survived the free fall. My heart sank. The telescope was now six hundred dollars’ worth of scrap metal and broken glass. Worse yet was Miranda’s disappointment. Ever since she’d opened the box, she’d been treating the telescope with as much love as she once treated her stuffed bears.
I dropped the tree limb on the ground and rested a hand on her shoulder. “The wind must have come up suddenly and ripped the branch off the tree; when it fell, it caught your telescope and took it over the railing.” I wasn’t sure whether or not I believed my explanation, but it was the only thing I could think of. The squirrels were still hibernating, or at least they hadn’t put in a strong show lately. Besides, they weren’t big enough to do this kind of damage. They would have had to physically pick it up and heave it over the railing. Nor did we have any birds that could cause such havoc.
I glanced back at the roof, wondering if anybody could have climbed up, but nope, not without a ladder, and we would have seen evidence of anything like that when we were on the roof. No, nobody had been up there tonight except when we crawled through Miranda’s window. I was sure of it.
“It’ll be okay, honey, this is just a stroke of bad luck. Come on, dry your eyes. Tomorrow is Saturday. Sunday, we’ll go buy you another. Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Comforted with the promise that we would replace her beloved telescope, Miranda let me lead her back inside. While I was at work she could call around and find out if the store had another in stock.
With a last glance at the glittering shards of metal, glass, and plastic now decorating the lawn, I locked the door. Still shaken, we stopped in the kitchen for milk and a cookie before we went back upstairs to our beds. The rest of the night passed without incident.
Chapter 3
DESPERATE FOR A caffeine fix, I stopped at Starbucks before we hit the Chintz ’n China. I snagged a triple shot grandé iced mocha for myself, and the kids ordered apple cider and croissant sandwiches. As the cold chill of the chocolate-enhanced espresso ran down my throat, I went over what we had to do today.
For a Saturday, my errand list was pretty light. First and foremost: the weekly cleanup of the Chintz ’n China. The kids always helped; I’d made it a part of their regular chores. Lana would also be there; she came in on weekends now that Cinnamon was working full-time during the week. At some point, I wanted to run the dragon over to Mr. Hodges, who operated a jewelry and estate store across the street from my shop. He specialized in appraising rare goods and maybe, if I was lucky, he could help me identify and valuate the dragon.
Which reminded me: I opened my Day-Timer and penned a note to start hunting for Daniel Barrington’s family. Murray had called me before I left home to tell me that the Chiqetaw police ran his information through several national databases, but nothing came up, and they simply didn’t have the manpower to mount an in-depth search to continue looking unless some new leads came in.
I tied a bandanna around my head and grabbed a dust rag. “Kids, take the tearoom. Dust, sweep, scrub tables, and mop. And then,” I said, feeling like Cinderella’s step-mother, “you can go.” While they polished the tables and counter, Lana and I attacked the dust bunnies that hid out on the shelves in the store proper. Within an hour the shop was gleaming, not a speck of dust in sight. I gave the kids the go-ahead to take off. “Out of here, before I find something else for you to do.”
Kip shot out the door before I could say another word. Miranda watched him race away, then grinned at me as she strolled after him. I knew she was headed home to call the astronomer’s hangout in Bellingham—a store called the Skies & Scopes—to ask if they had another Swift Dobsonian telescope in stock.
I grimaced as I made a quick call to my bank branch and, using the automated service, transferred seven hundred dollars from my savings account into checking. The price of the telescope had caused me more than a little financial grief at Christmas. Having to shell out the same amount just four months later was like a kick in the teeth, but Miranda hadn’t tossed her telescope over the railing, and I wasn’t about to penalize her for a freak accident. I would, however, insist she start bringing it inside at night instead of leaving it set up on the roof.
As Lana flipped the sign from Closed to Open and unlocked the door, a little throng of customers pushed in. W
eird. Saturdays were usually slow until midafternoon. The mystery cleared up when they crowded around me, asking about Daniel and the hit-and-run. Like vultures attracted to the feeding grounds, they flocked in, hoping for scraps of gossip. Lana intervened, bless her heart, encouraging them to “Come have a cup of tea,” while I retreated behind the counter. Farrah Warnoff and Lydia Johnson followed me, but they actually needed help.
“I’d like to schedule Monday readings for Mother and myself.” Farrah had become one of my most loyal and most annoying tarot clients. At times, I dreaded seeing her come in the door. She usually didn’t really need a reading, she just liked to tell her friends about her “psychic,” which irritated the hell out of me.
I stared at my Day-Timer, packed with a flurry of scribbled names and times, longing to take a giant eraser to the whole list. The money was good, but I just didn’t want to handle the cards for a while so soon after Daniel’s untimely end. Well, somebody had said honesty was the best policy. I’d find out if they were right. “You know what, Farrah? I’m taking the rest of the month off. I’m just plum worn out.”
She patted my arm. “It must be quite a drain on your power. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have people dying on you right and left. I can see how you need some time to recuperate. How about May first? I believe that’s a Tuesday?”
Yeah. Drain on my powers. Oh yep. My powers of patience, I thought, penciling her in for May Day. While I was thinking about it, I leaned around the corner and motioned to Lana. “After the rush dies down, I want you to notify my tarot clients for the rest of April that I’m canceling all my appointments through the end of the month. Don’t schedule anybody until May, okay?”
She nodded. I handed her the appointment book and escorted Lydia to a chair next to my desk, where she sat, tapping her impeccably polished nails on the wooden arm. She just wanted to know if her special order had arrived yet, so I dug through the pile of receipts until I found her invoice and matched it to a teapot in the storeroom. I wrapped the pot and filled out the invoice so she could pay Lana at the counter. She gave me a cheery wink as she headed out the door. “Don’t let them get you down, Emerald. Just ride the waves.” She swooshed her hand through the air. “Go with the flow.”
Legend of the Jade Dragon Page 3
