“I was thinkin’ of perception. You know, how you can see somethin’ and another person can see the same exact thing, but if you both tell it, you each have a different story.”
“And?” She’d given up all attempts to speak like a governess. Her voice was rich and soft and lilting with the soft “g” endings that made a Southern drawl so appealing.
“You’re packin’ up to leave Costa Rica. I’ve never known you to leave a case half-finished.”
It stung a little, which let me know she’d hit an exposed nerve. “First of all, I’m going to L.A. to finish a job that I’m committed to do. Secondly, this isn’t ‘a case.’ No one is paying me to straighten out Federico’s daughter. I did what I could, but now it’s time to move on.”
“Are you so certain that Estelle is the perp?”
I hated it when Jitty used television language. She sounded like such a phony. “Estelle may or may not be ‘the perp’ but she damn sure has motive, means, and opportunity. She’s at the top of the suspect list.”
Jitty remained on the balcony, the sheer curtains lifting and falling around her in the breeze. Even in her governess garb, she was beautiful.
“That’s what I mean about perception, Sarah Booth. Maybe, for just one minute, you should try lookin’ at this from her point of view.”
“I would if I had any idea what her point of view might be.” But I was already talking to air. The balcony was empty. The curtains billowed once and then hung straight. Jitty was gone, and I was left with a feeling of dissatisfaction.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
My hair was still damp from the shower, and my mind was on Jitty’s message as I locked the door of my room and started for the staircase. The lessons from my haint were always cryptic, but this one had me puzzled. How did Marlon Brando as Quinton, the horse master in a movie based on a delicious short story, relate with anything that was happening around me?
I’d forgotten all about my “moment” in the gardens with Federico, but obviously Jovan had not. She waylaid me at the foot of the stairs.
“Is there something between you and Federico?” she asked.
At least she had the guts to come to me to get an answer, and I gave her points for forthrightness. “No, Federico is my boss. I’m concerned about his daughter.” I matched her look for look. “I saw you on the balcony of my room.” I checked my impulse to ask her why she was there. It would be more interesting to see what she volunteered.
Jovan’s smile was amused. “Your door was open, and I heard something, like someone shuffling around. Creepy. Since Federico and I both have had that virus or whatever it was, I went in to check on you. I thought you might be sick.”
I knew what happened next. “But the room was empty.”
“Yes, the room was empty, and as soon as I went to the balcony, the noise stopped. I checked the bathroom and around, but I couldn’t find anything. It had to be a water pipe or something in the walls.” Her blond hair caught in one of her beautiful earrings, and she tugged it free. “It was so eerie. I honestly thought someone was there. Maybe the ghost that everyone is talking about.”
“And then you glanced out and saw me and Federico in the garden.”
She nodded slowly. “You looked pretty cozy. Federico and I are together because it suits us, but if he’s developing a new interest, I don’t want to be the last to know.”
“Like I said, we were discussing his daughter. He’s worried about her, and for good reason.” No matter that we’d sealed all the secret corridors we knew about, there were others. There had to be. Old houses made strange noises, but it also seemed that someone floated through that house like it was a poltergeist honeycomb.
“The little bitch is working him.” Jovan showed her first spark of Nordic heat. She was usually so cool, so unemotional, but Estelle had been pushing her buttons, too. While she might not show Federico her true feelings, she had no such reservations where I was concerned. “Estelle is a manipulative, dangerous woman,” she continued. “I’ve told him he should stop all contact with her. Every time he gets worried and upset, she wins.”
Estelle was manipulative. But dangerous? Yes, that, too. She’d hurt Joey, Jovan, Tinkie, and Chablis. And me. I could easily have drowned. “If we find her before tomorrow, I think Federico will put her in a facility for medical care. He’s afraid she’s going to harm herself.”
“Instead of a country club mental institution, I’d rather see her sit in jail.” Jovan frowned. “I hate to sound like a shrew, but she could have killed me. And your friend was hurt, as well as her dog.”
I nodded in agreement. “To be honest, I don’t think we’ll discover Estelle before tomorrow. And once we’re out of this house, she has no reason to bother us again.”
“Tell that to Suzy Dutton.” Jovan’s blue gaze held mine for a moment before it broke. “I’m afraid, Sarah Booth. If she killed Suzy in Malibu, she might try to harm me again. Or you. Or someone on the film like Joey. He was lucky he didn’t break his neck.”
“We don’t know that Suzy’s death involved Estelle in any way.”
“Right. It’s just a coincidence that Federico’s ex-girlfriend is dead and everyone on this film has been hurt.” Her face shifted into shock. “Except for Graf. Nothing bad has happened to him.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t intend to be rude, but what she was implying was ridiculous. “Only women and teenage boys have been injured. Graf is a strong man. Perhaps that’s why he hasn’t been targeted. And you’re forgetting Federico. No one has pushed or slugged him.” I moved past her. I was ready to join my friends in the kitchen. Chablis was home and I needed some pampered pooch kisses.
“Federico may have been a victim, too. I’m thinking someone tampered with our food. We had seafood delivered and he and I both have been sick.”
That brought me up short. Sick was one thing, but if Estelle, or someone else, was poisoning the food, it could also be deadly. Or it could merely have been a mild case of accidental food poisoning. Seafood and sun were a breeding ground for bacteria. “We should have had that food tested.”
“I know, but Federico threw it away.” Jovan walked with me toward the kitchen. “Look, we’re leaving in the morning. If that’s the end of all of this, I say let it go. Estelle is nuts, but she’s also Federico’s daughter. But what if this continues in Los Angeles? What then?”
“I’ll mention that to Federico, but I honestly think once we leave, you’re safe.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said, pushing the door open. “Graf asked me to hurry you up and I’ve detained you, jabbering about my fears. Graf said the steaks are almost ready.”
We entered the kitchen together, talking about the scenes that would be shot as soon as we unloaded our gear in Los Angeles. Jovan had a far better understanding of how the movie would be edited. But, of course, as Cece would point out, she was sleeping with the director. That did give her a slight advantage.
Throughout the meal, Chablis was alert and wagging her tail, but she didn’t leave Tinkie’s side. And Sweetie remained near her, attentive and protective. Like me and Tinkie, they were best friends.
Federico tapped his wineglass with a spoon and stilled the conversation that was buzzing around the table. “The plane leaves at ten in the morning. Be at the airport at nine.” He turned to Tinkie. “And what time is your flight out?”
“I have one last checkup with the veterinarian, so I won’t leave until the afternoon.”
Federico frowned. “I can leave Ricardo here to stay with you. He can catch a commercial flight the next day.”
“I wouldn’t think of such a thing.” Tinkie’s glitzed hair bobbed with the vehemence of her answer. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”
“I’ve offered to stay and so has Graf,” I said.
“It’s a checkup for Chablis. There’s no need to worry, and I’ll only be a few hours later than you guys in taking off.”
Conversation buzzed back to a mild roar, and I
found myself leaning against Graf, feeling the reassurance of his strong chest as my support. For many women, this might be the norm. For me, it was a moment to treasure. I wasn’t the leaning kind—but it was nice to find someone solid when I did.
We broke up early, all eager to conclude in Costa Rica and head back to the States. Graf, Tinkie, and I volunteered to put the kitchen to rights and we set about our chores after the others went to attend last-minute chores.
“It’s been a wonderful trip,” Tinkie said as she dried the plates I’d just washed.
“Right. It isn’t every day you get knocked on the head and your dog kicked.” I gave her a grin to show I was kidding.
“No, this is a lovely place. Your coworkers are wonderful, Sarah Booth. This has been an experience. I’m sure Millie and Cece will pump me for information as soon as I get home.”
“Make it up, and make us look good,” Graf suggested. He was cutting the remains of a steak into tiny little bites for Chablis.
“Maybe I’ll just take you and Sarah Booth home to show them what a nice couple you make.”
There were so many things I wanted to say in answer to this, but I kept silent. I wasn’t certain where my life would take me, and I made no promises.
We finished the cleanup and headed to our rooms. Chablis had fallen asleep, and we were all tired. Our lives would change yet again in another few hours. I wondered if I was getting better at handling these sudden shifts, or if since I’d torn my roots from the soil of Sunflower County, I would forever be rootless. The prospect of that made me want to snuggle into Graf’s arms and hide.
We went to bed, exhausted, but not too far gone to forget that this was our last night in Costa Rica. We made love slowly and with care for each other. Graf could be both fiery and tender, and he was always a surprise. He aroused me with kisses that were sweet and familiar, and in other new ways. In bed with him, I had the sense that time stood still for us. Curled together, we fell asleep.
The room was filled with darkness when I awakened. It took me a moment to realize the thrum and hammer I heard was the sound of Graf’s heart. My ear was pressed against his chest and his arms held me protectively. But there was another noise. A soft whimper, like someone crying in an empty church, broke and rippled around me. There was the dull thud, like the fictional John’s head thudding down uncarpeted stairs in that old black-and-white movie. It was impossible to tell if the sounds were noncorporeal or real.
My first impulse was to nudge Graf awake, but instead I eased from bed. The sounds were elusive. I heard them, but maybe I was imagining it. Grabbing a robe, I slipped out into the hallway.
I heard the eerie keening again, so soft that it almost wasn’t there. It echoed, as if it came from a chest devoid of heart and lungs. Almost as if it rippled from the very walls themselves. It was impossible to tell which direction it came from. I had the sense that I’d stepped into The Haunting of Hill House.
Creeping along the hallway, I didn’t make a sound. Movement in a recessed doorway made me freeze.
Someone was in the hallway. Hiding.
I paused for a few seconds. If this was the woman in red, I intended to catch her. If it was Estelle, then our mysteries would be mostly resolved.
Tensing my muscles, I launched myself forward, turning and diving into the small hidden area. My forehead connected with something solid and sharp, and I let out a yelp and struck the locked door of an empty bedroom with my shoulder. Slowly, I sank to the floor, momentarily stunned.
“My God, Sarah Booth!”
I recognized Tinkie’s voice instantly, but when I looked up, she was slightly out of focus. She held one of her stiletto heels in a tight grip.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were attacking me.” She sank down beside me and her fingertips brushed at my forehead, which was beginning to throb. “I clocked you. Let’s go to the kitchen and put some ice on that.”
“You hit me?” I was a little slow to gather the facts.
“With my shoe. The heel sort of dug a hole in the center of your forehead.” She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid it’s not going to be very attractive tomorrow.”
I wasn’t worried about my looks, I was afraid that I’d been lobotomized. “I don’t think I can stand.” I wasn’t playing the pity card, either. Tinkie had brought that shoe down with force.
She got me under my arms and helped me to my feet. Tinkie is only shoulder height on me, but she’s all wiry muscle. We ambled down the hallway, pausing at the stairs. I wasn’t sure if I could make it or not.
“Shall I get Graf?” she asked.
“No.” I felt slightly foolish. “I’ll be fine.” To prove it, I took the stairs slowly. By the time we got to the kitchen, my forehead was on fire and my ears were ringing.
Tinkie made an ice pack and we sat at the table while I chilled my wound.
“I’m so sorry. I heard this scary sound and I went to investigate. Then I heard someone following behind me. I assumed it was Estelle or whoever has been attacking people. So I hid and waited.” She bit her bottom lip.
“It’s okay.” The ice was helping. “I would have done the same thing.”
“What is that noise?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t know much. I’d just had my brains scrambled. “But if I had to guess, I’d say this house has a past. A tragic past.” The truth was, the sounds I’d heard scared me.
“It’s so sad, Sarah Booth. Do you think it’s a ghost?”
This was the same question I’d posed to Jitty, and her answer had been totally unsatisfactory. Yet I was about to give it to Tinkie.
“I can’t say.”
“Do you believe in ghosts, Sarah Booth?”
Her question was asked with such innocence. Like a child asking about Santa Claus. “Yes. Unequivocally.” That question I didn’t have to dodge.
“Then this crying person in the house could really be a ghost. Someone who’s here because she can’t leave. That would be terrible, to be dead and be caught between that world and this one.”
Jitty didn’t seem to mind, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. “Caught here or staying here voluntarily, I think ghosts can stay behind to help, or for revenge.”
“Good and bad ghosts, just like people.” She smiled, and I could see the fatigue in the tender skin under her eyes.
“Right. Just like people.”
“This ghost, I think we should help her.”
I was stunned. Tinkie had always disavowed a belief in the supernatural. But then I remembered Tinkie’s interest in one of our clients, a woman named Doreen Mallory, who was said to heal people. Tinkie had found a breast lump, but somehow she’d convinced herself that she could heal it herself. The bottom line was that when we finally convinced Tinkie to address the lump with a medical doctor, it was gone. Vanished. Dissipated. Tinkie had never claimed that the lump had been healed. She simply said nothing. Now she wanted to assist dead people.
“How can we help a ghost?” I asked.
“First we have to find out why she’s haunting this house.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” My forehead was swelling, and I was feeling cranky.
“We ask her.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’ll wait here and hold the ice on my forehead while you track her down and ask her what the problem is.”
“You are grouchy when you’re in pain. I’ll be sure and tell Graf, just in case you try to talk him into natural childbirth. You’re definitely one of those who should have the epidural and general anesthesia.”
“Don’t worry about my breeding abilities. If you’re going to help a ghost, you’d better get on the stick. We’re leaving in less than ten hours.”
Tinkie took a deep breath. “I’m not leaving, Sarah Booth.”
Surely the blow to my head had affected my hearing. “Oscar is having a conniption to get you back to Zinnia. And Chablis is cleared to travel.”
“I’m staying.”
“Tinkie, you can’t stay here alone.” The idea was upsetting. Tinkie had already been injured. She had to clear out and go back to the safety of Mississippi.
“I won’t be alone. Chablis is here.” The set of her chin told me argument was useless.
“Oscar will kill me if I leave you here by yourself.”
“I love Oscar, but he isn’t the boss of me.”
“God forbid that anyone try to boss you.” I pressed the ice harder to my forehead. A really big headache was blossoming.
“I know you have to go, Sarah Booth. The movie is your priority. But something is going on in this house. Something bad. I can’t just walk away.”
I removed the ice pack and got a gander of my forehead in the reflection on a toaster. It looked like I was developing a third eye. “I’m staying, too,” I said.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She lifted her chin another notch. “You can’t go AWOL on a movie.”
“And I can’t work with a hole in my forehead. I’ll give it a day or two to heal while I’m here with you. I don’t think Sally has enough putty to fill this crater. I may as well do something useful.”
She picked up my free hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Sarah Booth.”
“Don’t thank me. I’m not sure this is a smart choice.”
“What will you tell Graf?”
That was a good question. “I think I feel a stomach virus coming on.” It wasn’t a total lie. I did feel a little queasy every time I looked at my reflection in the toaster. I wondered if there might be room for me on the circus midway.
“I’ll volunteer to take you to the doctor while they head out to Hollywood.” She patted my fingers. “It’ll be like old times. Me, you, Sweetie, and Chablis. We’ll have this ghost thing knocked out in no time.”
“Right,” I agreed. “No time at all.” If someone didn’t push us down a flight of stairs or hit us in the head with a hammer first.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Before he got in the car to go to the airport, Graf kissed me passionately. When I was weak-kneed, he put his lips beside my ear and whispered softly, “I’m not buying this whole stomach virus story or that you slipped in the bathroom and hit your head. You’re up to something.”
Wishbones Page 19
