Star Walk

by Melissa Bowersock

  “So many years ago,” Celeste sighed.

  “Yes, I know,” Lacey agreed. “And I’m very sorry to be bringing up sad memories for you, but—”

  “He killed her.”

  The sudden statement cut Lacey off. She lowered her voice and responded softly. “I read articles about it. How he said he blamed himself. How he cheated on her and lied about it.”

  “Oh, he was such a… a snake!” Celeste said. “He had women everywhere. Here, in L.A., in England, anywhere he went on location. He wasn’t even discreet about it. Then when Estelle would confront him, he’d lie and say the cruelest things to her. She’d call me in tears, just sobbing her heart out. Oh, he was wretched!”

  Lacey swallowed. “That’s… that’s exactly the kind of impressions my partner has gotten. The crying, the lies, the confusion. It seems that Geoffrey’s lying and refusal to admit the truth led her to doubt her own sanity. Do you recall that? That she doubted herself?”

  “Oh, yes. Over and over. I don’t know why, but she’d rant and rave and be so angry, and then she’d turn it around and say maybe he was telling the truth and maybe she really was just a jealous fool.”

  “But you don’t believe that,” Lacey said.

  Celeste snorted. “Of course not! He even approached me! Her own sister! He was a horrible man. A lying, insatiable son of a bitch.”

  Lacey smothered a laugh. Swear words in Celeste’s demur voice sounded somehow worse. She knew it was a testament to the old woman’s outrage.

  “So what we’re trying to figure out now,” she continued, “is why your sister is tied here. If she’s afraid to go on, if she has unfinished business. Was your family religious?”

  “Our mother was. Dad not as much. But Estelle and I both drifted away as we got older.”

  “So you don’t think she’s worried about… going to hell?”

  “No. She was foolishly in love, but she wasn’t a bad person. She was actually too sweet, too gentle for her own good. She had no… toughness. She had no defense against Geoffrey, no way to fight back. He just crushed her, like stepping on a flower.”

  “Yes, I see,” Lacey said. “I’m so sorry. It must have been difficult for you to see her like that and have no way to help her.”

  “Oh, believe me, I tried,” Celeste said forcefully. “I kept telling her to leave him, just pack up and go, but she wouldn’t do it. Kept saying she loved him, that he’d done so much for her, helped her with her career. Fiddlesticks, I said. He was no more than a rutting boar, rolling in the mud and getting it all over her in the bargain.”

  “Yes, it sounds like it,” Lacey said. “It seems that some people are so blind. It’s very sad.” For a brief moment, she thought back to her betrayal by Derrick. At least, she thought, once the truth came out, she hadn’t wavered in her determination to be quit of him. She may have loved him once, but not after all the things he did behind her back.

  “Do you know she actually told me, right there at the end, that she was going to leave him? I so hoped she would, but it seemed, again, she just didn’t have the strength.”

  “Apparently not,” Lacey said. “Well, Ms. Gardner, I certainly do appreciate your telling me all this. My partner and I are going back to the house on Saturday and see if we can convince your sister to move on. I hope we can. She deserves some rest.”

  “Will you, uh, let me know how it goes?” Celeste’s voice was soft. “Please?”

  “Of course,” Lacey said. “What’s your number?”

  “Let me look,” Celeste said, laughing. “I moved into this darn retirement home and I never can remember the number.”

  Retirement home. Lacey remembered the odd caller ID. “What’s the name of it?” she asked.

  “Meadow View Retirement Community,” Celeste said.

  “Is it a nice place?” Lacey was thinking of Derrick’s mother and wondering what kind of place she was in. Certainly not in the same category as a former actress.

  “It is,” she said, “although I get so annoyed with the staff. They have a tendency to talk to the residents as if we’re all children. As if we don’t have a brain among us. It’s very irritating.”

  “I’ve seen people do that,” Lacey said, “and I agree with you. You may be older but you haven’t lost your faculties.”

  “No, I have not,” Celeste said primly. “Just my glasses. Hold on.”

  Lacey could hear fumbling over the phone, then Celeste mumbling to herself. Finally she returned.

  “Here’s my number…”

  Lacey jotted it down in her notebook. “Okay, got it. Thank you again, Ms. Gardner.”

  “Celeste, please.”

  “Celeste. I’ll call you when we’ve done our clearing and let you know how it goes.”

  “All right. And Miss Fitzpatrick—”

  “Lacey.”

  “Lacey. Thank you. For taking the time to find me. For helping my sister.”

  Lacey felt tears pricking her eyes. “I-I’m happy to do it. I hope we can help her to move on.”

  ~~~

  EIGHT

  The next day, Wednesday, Lacey had to pull off the ghosts to do more background checks. Had to pay the bills. Which reminded her; she was going to have to ask Sam how much they were getting for the Laurel Canyon job. It was certainly taking more time and effort than any of their previous cases.

  In the afternoon, she went back to Nora Messenger. Not a lot there. The woman spoke in glowing tones of her deceased husband. A picture of her with her toddler daughter just reinforced the image of a blessed family: beautiful, talented, rich. Nora, however, never did become the star her husband did, but remarried a couple years later, had a couple more kids and retired from the screen. No drama, no trauma. If she was the female presence in the south apartment, she was certainly a pro at hiding the conflicts Sam had encountered.

  What was she missing? If this was their guy, why did she keep running into dead ends?

  Taking a break, she got up to stretch her legs and fix herself a glass of iced tea. She checked her watch: 2:20. The mail should be there by now. She walked to the cluster of apartment mailboxes and retrieved hers. Cable bill, junk mail, couple of catalogs. And one from the California State Prison.

  Probably needing more information for their background check of her, she thought. She ripped the envelope open and read as she walked the concrete path back to her apartment.

  We are pleased to inform you that you have passed our background check and are now approved for an inmate visit…

  Lacey stopped and reread the letter. Approved? Already? It had only been a week and a half.

  She fumed a little. She had really hoped the process would take several weeks, putting off her decision-making about Derrick. Obviously he was right; her background check was a slam dunk. Now there was nothing stopping her from seeing him.

  Another apartment resident brushed past her on his way to the mailboxes, reminding her to clear the path. Lacey shoved the letter back into the envelope and stalked back home. Approved or not, she still didn’t have to decide right now. She had other things to think about.

  Like Lance Tynan.

  Faced with all the dead ends, she sat in front of her laptop and tried to think outside the box. What if it wasn’t Lance who abhorred religious art? What if it was someone else? She leafed through her printouts of his biographical data. No mention of roommates, no other family members, no brother, no nephew who lived with him. She was reminded of the San Clemente case. There, too, she had trouble figuring out the identity of the ghost. She’d even considered a homeless squatter having the bad luck to camp in an empty house at the exact wrong time. Eventually, though, they’d figured it out. It just took time fitting all the pieces together.

  She gave herself the night off. Closing her laptop and putting it away, she planned her evening around things that would keep her away from the computer. She called in an order at her local Chinese restaurant and then drove over to pick it up. On the way home, she stopped at
a Red Box and got a couple of new movies, the second one a backup in case the first one didn’t measure up. She just wanted to turn her brain off for a while. When she got home, she parked her butt on the couch in front of the TV, takeout boxes on the table beside her along with the TV remote and a glass of soda.

  Halfway through the first movie, her phone rang. Sam. She paused the movie and answered the phone.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Just wanted to let you know we’re on for Saturday with Deidre. Pick me up at nine?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I talked to Estelle’s sister, Celeste. Didn’t uncover anything we didn’t already know, though.”

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “No insights into what’s keeping her here?”

  “No. They weren’t religious, and she couldn’t think of any unfinished business. Guess we’ll just have to wing it.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “I’ll bring a smudge stick and just see what vibrations I pick up. Sometimes just knowing that someone else understands their turmoil is enough for them to let go.”

  “We can hope,” Lacey said. “And I’m not having a lot of luck with Lance. Every lead I follow goes nowhere.”

  “Hmm.” Sam was thoughtful. “Depending on how things go with Estelle, maybe we can revisit that other apartment, see if I can pick up anything else useful. We’ll just have to take it one step at a time.”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “Sometimes I forget how knotty these cases can be. Just gotta keep yanking on ‘em.”

  Sam chuckled. “Well, don’t drive yourself crazy over it. It’ll come or it won’t.”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” she said. “Sitting on my butt, eating Chinese food, watching a movie. Giving my brain a short vacation.”

  “Good for you. But I hope you’re not watching a Lance Tynan movie.”

  “Hey,” she said, only half kidding. “That’s an idea.”

  “Lacey…”

  “I’m kidding. I think. No, I’m watching the latest dystopian thing. The kind where I can check my brain at the door and just go along for the ride.”

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll let you go. See you Saturday.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She hung up the phone and reached for her pork fried rice. Hmm. Watching a Lance Tynan movie. Or even an Estelle DeVoe movie. She wondered idly if seeing the actors on screen might give her some insight. It was certainly a long shot, but she’d gotten clues from stranger places. She could search her On Demand listings…

  The phone rang again. What in the world? There were times when she got no calls for days, but now, suddenly, she was popular? She checked the screen.

  Calif St Prison.

  Crap. She thought seriously about not answering. But she hated dodging things. Better to confront them head on and just deal.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Lacey.” A soft chuckle. “Didn’t I tell you you’d ace the background check?”

  She tightened her jaw, compressing her lips into a thin line. She hadn’t been aware the inmate would also be notified of the findings.

  “Yes, you did,” she admitted.

  “So, when can you come? I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  But I’m not looking forward to seeing you, she thought.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m in the middle of a case and I can’t break off right now.”

  “Oh? A cheating husband? A wife selling it on the streets?”

  Lacey steamed. His smug disrespect for her work rankled.

  “I can’t talk about it,” she ground out. “I’ll let you know when I’ve got some free time.” She was aware of the irony of her earlier thought about not dodging him, but she would not put up with his sarcasm.

  There was a thoughtful silence. “I’m sorry,” he said. He did sound contrite. “I’m, uh, trying to keep this light, but I guess that’s not really appropriate. Listen, Lacey, I really am worried about my mom. I do want to see you, but that’s not my number one concern. I’m sorry I’m not handling this well. This is awkward for me. I’m not used to asking for help. You know.”

  “Yeah,” she said, just slightly mollified. “I know.” She exhaled heavily. “I’m hoping to have this case cleared within the next couple of weeks. If I get an opening before that, I’ll come out. But no promises.”

  “Sure, sure, that’s fine, Lacey. I appreciate it, I really do. I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, but the truth is you’re the only one I trust.”

  The irony was thick, and she suspected he only realized it too late. He was the last one she would ever trust again. But she didn’t have to say it; he knew.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Goodbye, Derrick.”

  She didn’t give him a chance to reply, just keyed off the phone. As if coming out of a daze, she glanced around to reorient herself. Oh, yeah. Movie, Chinese food.

  So much for giving her brain the night off. Now both it and her emotions were roiling.

  ~~~

  NINE

  The rest of the week her work came in fits and starts. She’d try again to unlock the secrets behind Lance Tynan or figure the tie that held Estelle DeVoe, but every time she came face to face with a blank wall, she’d drop back to her standbys of background checks and process serving. Although she got a lot of the mundane tasks done, the lack of progress on the others vexed her. She was anxious for Saturday when they could see how far her earlier research could take them.

  Sam was ready. He came out of his apartment carrying a smudge stick. Lacey had grown familiar with these after working with him for almost a year. She enjoyed the woody, cedar scent and now associated that with purification and protection. She remembered with a wry smile how they had even smudged her gun out on the Navajo reservation.

  As soon as he was buckled in, she headed for Hollywood.

  “So how are we doing this today?” she asked as she drove.

  “We’ll play it by ear,” he said. “I’ll see what her energy is like, see if it’s changed in any way first. Then, depending on what I get, I’ll acknowledge what we’ve found. Very often, these spirits just want someone to know who they are, what they’ve been through.”

  “Acknowledgment and validation?” Lacey queried.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Something like that.”

  “I’ll have my notebook,” she said, “in case you forget any of it or we need to check back.”

  He fingered the smudge stick in his lap. “You know, if you do think of something that I‘m not remembering, you can talk to her, too.”

  Lacey did a double-take. “Really? But I’ll be filming.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. If you tune in to her and feel something would be helpful, use it.”

  That was new. Lacey had never thought about communicating with ghosts herself. That was Sam’s territory. Her role had always been recording and researching.

  She glanced over at him. He was staring at her, his dark eyes sparkling.

  Okay, she thought. Game on.

  Deidre was waiting for them. She came out of the house before Lacey turned the car off, looking cool in white slacks and a red cap-sleeved shirt.

  “Hello, hello,” she called. She waited for them on the half moon-shaped front porch.

  “Good morning,” Lacey said. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m waiting for you to tell me,” Deidre said with a smile. She motioned them inside.

  Sam looked around the entry, his eyes lingering on the area rug just below the balconies. “You haven’t noticed any change?”

  “Honestly? I haven’t been up there. I told myself I didn’t want to interfere in your… relationship with the ghosts, but the truth is, they just give me the creeps.” She spread her hands and shrugged with good-natured embarrassment.

  “That’s fine,” Sam said. “I doubt you could do anything to make it worse, but if you want to give them a wide berth until we’re done, that’s okay.” He tilted his head at his partner. “Lacey found
out who the woman is in the north apartment.”

  Deidre brightened. “Really? Who? Can you tell me?”

  “Her name is Estelle DeVoe. She was an actress of the fifties. She and her husband had a stormy relationship and she committed suicide when he said he wanted a divorce.”

  “Oh. I see.” Putting a name to the ghost, putting her life into perspective, seemed a sobering revelation to Deidre. “How sad.” She sighed. “So what do we do now?”

  Again Sam indicated Lacey. “We’ll go up and see what her energy is like, see if just hearing her out last time has made a difference. If not, we’ll make it clear to her that we know who she is and what she endured. With any luck, just knowing she’s been recognized will do the trick.”

  Deidre wrung her hands a little. “Oh, I do hope so,” she said. “So I’ll just wait for you down here?”

  “That’ll be fine,” Lacey said. “We’ll get with you when we’re done and let you know what we’ve found.”

  “All right.” She nodded once emphatically and started toward the living room. “I’ll have water ready for you.”

  Lacey set her big purse on a half-round table in the entry and dug out her notebook and the little camcorder. She shoved the notebook in her jeans pocket and made sure the camera was set to go.

  “Ready,” she told Sam.

  He nodded and started up the stairs.

  Neither of them hurried. There was none of Sam’s careful tuning in, nor his intense concentration. They might just as well be climbing up to view a pleasant sunset. At the top of the stairs, though, Sam suddenly tensed. Lacey switched on the video camera and brought the screen up to her face.

  He walked carefully across the balcony. Lacey watched him step, hesitate, step again. “She’s still here,” he said quietly. “It’s still strong.” After a moment of tense silence, he went to the oak door. “Would you open it?” he asked Lacey.

  She reached around him and gave the door knob a twist, pushing the door open. Then she stepped back behind him again.