Gem of a Ghost: A Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  “Yes and no. She’s home, but she won’t leave the ring. I don’t know the whole story yet, but I should soon.” She looked at Quinn, who was waiting patiently by her side. As soon as she was off the phone, she was going to wring every scrap of information out of him she could, starting with how he knew Addy’s name and the story behind the Dowd diamond.

  As soon as she said goodbye to her mother, Emma stared expectantly at Quinn. “So, what’s the story with Addy Ames, Edward Kelly, and Ronald Dowd? And don’t spare any details.”

  Quinn started down Broadway. “Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something, but first we need to go back to the hotel. We can trade information along the way.”

  Emma looked down at her ruined sweater. She wanted to change it but was antsy to learn more. “I’m okay wearing this for now. Let’s just go.”

  He turned. “I’m not worried about your sweater, I’m worried about the burn under it. We need to get you some first aid before we go traipsing off. Burns can be nasty business and get infected easily.”

  “Oh, and my cell phone,” Emma remembered. “I do need that. If anything happens, my mother will call that number, not yours.”

  twenty-six

  A knock sounded at Emma’s hotel door. She opened it to find Quinn holding a small paper bag aloft in one hand and two plastic bags in the other. “I have antiseptic ointment and bandages.”

  “What’s that?” She pointed at the plastic bags. “Kind of big for a small burn, or are you planning surgery?”

  He came in and put all the bags on the table. From one plastic bag he pulled out four bottles of Snapple. “I picked up some sandwiches for lunch and a few bottles of tea.” He put the bag with the sandwiches in the mini fridge, along with two bottles of the tea. He twisted the top off one of the bottles left on the table and handed it Emma. “Hope you like green tea.”

  After she took the bottle of tea, he asked, “Now, how’s that burn?”

  “It’s blistered a bit, but it’s not bad. My clothing took the brunt of the heat. I cleaned the site off with soap and water and dried it with a clean towel.” Emma had stripped to her waist and was wearing a short cotton robe over the top of her jeans. She took a drink from her bottle. It was refreshing and welcomed by her dry throat.

  Quinn twisted the top off his own bottle of tea and took a long drink. “Let me have a look at it.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I am a doctor, Emma.”

  She laughed lightly. “Somehow, Quinn, I don’t think a PhD qualifies you to give medical advice.”

  “No, but I’ve learned a lot about field medicine on digs, especially the simple things like cuts, burns, and sprains. I can even reset a dislocated shoulder or temporarily set a broken bone. You have to know that stuff when you’re working in remote places.”

  She considered him a moment, then put down her tea and opened her robe, revealing the burn but keeping the breasts on either side of it covered. “It’s nearly dead-center.”

  Putting down his tea, he washed his hands, then pulled Emma closer to a light to examine the wound. Emma flinched slightly when he touched her.

  Quinn looked up. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  Emma shook her head and looked away. His touch didn’t hurt her, it disturbed her. While Quinn grabbed the medical supplies and started tearing into the packaging, Emma studied the grain on the door to her room, trying to concentrate on anything except the fact that Quinn Keenan was touching her chest. It didn’t matter that he was applying first aid; his close proximity in such an intimate manner sent shimmers of arousal through her. And she wasn’t the only one sensing it. As Quinn applied ointment to Emma’s wound, then covered it with a gauze bandage, folding it small enough to fit between her breasts comfortably and still cover the burn, his fingers took on a slight tremor of awkwardness. Next he applied strips of surgical tape. Emma was glad he was doing it. She could have done it on her own, but it would have been difficult to do it right. She was also having a love-hate relationship with the way it was making her feel.

  “That’s going to hurt for a few days,” he told her when he was done. He fiddled with putting the cap on the ointment, studying it as if it were a difficult puzzle. Neither of them looked at each other, trying to ignore the charge in the air. “It shouldn’t become infected if you keep it clean and bandaged. If you need me to help change the bandage, just let me know. I’ll be happy to help.”

  “I just bet he would,” snapped a disembodied voice.

  Ignoring Granny’s comment and presence, Emma closed her robe and tightened the belt. “Thank you, Dr. Keenan.”

  “My pleasure.” He put away the supplies and washed his hands again. “You’re a lot cuter than the guys I’m used to patching up.”

  “No women on those digs?”

  “Them, too.” He picked up his tea, still not looking at her. “Where’s the Dowd diamond?”

  “Here.” Emma went to the nightstand by the bed and retrieved the ring. She handed it to him. “I didn’t know it had a name until today.”

  “If it’s the same stone.”

  “That’s not the original setting. The jeweler I spoke with said the original setting was Victorian. His friend bought it from someone here in Pennsylvania in the early sixties. Every wearer has died of suicide since, except for my daughter’s friend Lainey.”

  Emma took her bottle of tea to the loveseat and sat down. Quinn joined her.

  Granny materialized next to the window, her arms crossed and wearing her signature scowl. “Does he have to sit so close to you?”

  Emma shot Granny a scowl of her own but was thankful the ghost was chaperoning.

  On the walk back to the inn from the jail, she’d given Quinn a quick rundown of how she had become involved, of Lainey’s suicide attempts, and even of Summer’s death. He’d stopped their progress several times to question her and listen with interest before continuing.

  “Oh, I just thought of something.” Emma popped off the loveseat and retrieved her cell phone from its charger. She also grabbed her purse and dug around inside until she located the business card for Sachman & Sons. She started punching in the numbers.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The jeweler who gave me the history of that ring.”

  When someone answered, Emma asked to speak to Isaac Sachman and gave her name. After a short wait, Mr. Sachman came on the phone.

  “I see you got my message,” the old man said immediately.

  Emma was surprised. “Your message? No, I didn’t.” She looked down at her cell to see she had two voicemails waiting. “I’m sorry, Mr. Sachman. I went out and left my phone behind. I was actually calling you for something else.”

  “If it is about the ring, then it is the same topic.”

  Emma put the phone on speaker. “I’m here with a friend of mine, Dr. Quinn Keenan. We’re in Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, where Addy was from. I just found out the stone has a name—the Dowd diamond. Did you know that?”

  Isaac Sachman gave off a low, gravelly chuckle. “I just found out the exact same thing, my dear. That is why I called. Seems the fates are determined we get to the bottom of this mystery.”

  Mr. Sachman cleared his throat. There was a short quiet period.

  “Are you all right, Mr. Sachman?” Emma asked.

  “I’m fine, Emma. I just needed a sip of water.” There was another short pause before he continued. “After we spoke, the matter of this ring continued to bother me, so I called the widow of my friend Jonas, the jeweler who purchased the original ring in Pennsylvania. She told me all of Jonas’s records were still stored in their garage, so I sent one of my sons over to look through them, specifically to locate sales and purchases made from the late fifties through the sixties. As I recall, Jonas was a meticulous record keeper. My son found the information and brought it back to me to look over.”

  “So you can confirm that the stone I showed you is, in fact, the Dowd diamond?”

 
“Absolutely. I also found something even more curious.”

  Quinn and Emma leaned toward the phone, eager to hear the news and thankful to have a diversion from their mutual attraction. Granny floated close by, her own ears keen for news.

  “It seems I know the man who sold it to Jonas back in the early sixties,” Isaac Sachman continued. “His name is Linwood Reid, the controversial financier.”

  “Linwood Reid?” Even saying it out loud, Emma couldn’t believe it. She glanced up at Granny, who looked just as surprised. “Are you sure, Mr. Sachman?”

  “According to Jonas’s records, he bought the ring from Mr. Reid in the mid-sixties. Which is very odd, because I distinctly remember him being with Mrs. Naiman when she bought the ring from me for her husband. I’m sure he never mentioned a previous connection to it at that time.”

  “Did you know him before then?”

  “Mr. Reid was an occasional customer who recommended our store to Mrs. Naiman and particularly that ring. I assisted them myself and remember him saying he’d seen it in the store and knew it would be perfect for Max. Of course it could be a different Linwood Reid, but it is such an uncommon name, is it not?”

  “Yes, it is,” Emma agreed. She handed Quinn the phone and began pacing the room as her mind spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl with surprise and possibilities.

  Granny paced alongside her. “That’s the skunk who hired Jamal.”

  “Linwood,” Quinn said, holding the phone but staring at the wall as he dug through the knowledge stored in his brain. “Linwood,” he repeated. “Linwood was a family name of the Dowd family, the family who originally owned that stone.”

  Emma whipped around. “Are you sure, Quinn?”

  “Positive. Linwood Dowd was Ronald Dowd’s father—Addy’s father-in-law. According to local stories, he purchased the diamond in Europe for his bride, Ronald’s mother. Ronald also had a brother named Linwood.”

  “But how is it,” Emma asked, “that Linwood Reid knew where that ring was so many years after he sold it?”

  The aged jeweler provided an explanation. “He could have contacted Jonas and inquired about it. Sometimes when people are forced to sell off family heirlooms, they keep track of them in the hope of one day buying them back. Few do, of course.”

  Emma ran a hand through her hair. “I wonder if he knew the ring was haunted?”

  “That ring being cursed is a longtime legend around these parts,” added Quinn.

  Emma stared at him. “You mean people have known for years the ring was haunted?”

  “Maybe not haunted, but for generations locals passed along stories about the ring being cursed, though most thought it was just a story, and today most believe the existence of the ring itself was fabricated to account for all the tragedy surrounding the Dowd family.”

  Emma picked up the ring and examined it. It remained cool to the touch. “Makes you wonder if Addy was a victim of that tragedy or the cause.”

  Sachman’s voice came through the cell phone like that of an unseen spirit. “I hope my information was helpful, Emma.”

  Coming closer to the cell phone, she said, “Very helpful, Mr. Sachman. Thank you.”

  After the call with Isaac Sachman ended, Emma turned to Quinn armed with new questions. “Do you think Linwood Reid knew the ring was haunted and used it to murder Max Naiman? Lainey did tell me he was seeing her mother prior to her parents rededicating themselves.”

  Emma blew out a gust of air and continued before Quinn could make a comment. “Now I’m wondering if Joanna knew about the ring, but my gut is saying she didn’t. She is nervous about Linwood, though; something is not right there.”

  Granny had her own theory. “Maybe the skunk also used the ring to try to kill off Lainey. He’s after her money, isn’t he?”

  “That’s right, Granny.”

  Quinn looked to the spot where Emma directed her comment, but saw nothing. “Is your rabbit back?” He flashed Emma a grin.

  Granny hovered around Quinn, her hands on her hips, her face pinched with disapproval. “I ain’t no darn rabbit, Indiana.”

  “Yes, Granny is back, and she’d prefer you not to call her a rabbit. Not even a famous one.” Emma perched on the arm of the loveseat. “But she just pointed out another possibility. Maybe Linwood also used the ring to try to kill Lainey. He definitely wants her out of the way, and he’s been trying to get his hands on her inheritance.”

  “Murder by haunted ring.” Quinn rolled the concept around on his tongue. “If so, it’s a brilliant crime. Think about it. How are the police supposed to make a charge like that stick? Then again, according to the stuff I’ve read about Linwood Reid, he’s a genuine piece of work.”

  Emma tightened her grip on the ring, willing Addy to tell them more. “Quinn, did you know Linwood Reid was connected to the Dowd family?”

  “Not exactly, though I did know he hailed from Pennsylvania.” He stood up and stretched. “To be honest, my curiosity in the family didn’t extend beyond the burning of the Dowd mansion. After that, I believe they left Mauch Chunk for good.”

  “When I read up on this town,” Emma said, trying to sweep away her confusion, “I read about the two Packer mansions, but I don’t recall anything about a Dowd mansion.”

  “It burned to the ground in the early 1900s. The fire was supposedly set by Ronald’s third wife, Virginia Dowd.”

  “Tell me about the Dowds, Quinn. What do you know about the connection between them, Addy, and Edward Kelly?”

  Quinn went to the window and looked out. He was silent a few moments.

  “Is he thinking or sleeping?” Granny asked.

  Emma shot her a look letting her know to be still.

  “After the jail, I wanted to show you something.” He turned around and leaned against the windowsill. “I still do. It’s the perfect place to tell you Addy’s story, or at least what I know of it.” He shoved off and headed for the door. “Get dressed. I’ll be back in a minute. We’ll take the sandwiches and make a picnic of it.”

  twenty-seven

  From the hotel, they walked straight up Broadway, past the Old Jail Museum, and kept going. Quinn set a brisk pace, and after the day they’d had already, it felt good to Emma to do something physical. The mid-afternoon air was brisk and fresh and filled with the potential of cooler temperatures come sundown. When he’d returned to her room, Quinn had a small backpack. He filled it with the sandwiches and drinks from her mini fridge and a makeshift ice pack.

  They moved along side by side without speaking, staying on Broadway, following its lazy curve and incline. There were fewer buildings and businesses up at this end. Quinn made a right turn onto a small side street, then disappeared into the brush on the left. Emma followed him, discovering a footpath just beyond the spring growth of bushes. They continued on the path, which climbed through a small wooded area until it broke in a clearing at the top of a small hill.

  “It’s beautiful up here.” Exhilarated by the hike, Emma spun around, taking in the natural beauty. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  Quinn dropped his backpack down on one of three well-worn picnic tables in the clearing. “Yeah, it’s not that high, but it does give a great view of the town and the area around it.” He pointed toward an old road on the other side of the clearing. “That’s an old carriage road. We could have driven here, but I thought the exercise would do us good. You know, clear our minds.”

  “I totally agree.” Emma stood at the edge of the clearing watching the small town of Jim Thorpe.

  Quinn came to stand next to her. “How’s Addy doing?”

  Emma touched the small velvet pouch stuffed into the right pocket of her jeans. “So far, no bonfires. Why?”

  “This was where the Dowd mansion stood. This is where Addy Ames Dowd died.”

  Emma sucked in her breath and held it. Wrapping her fingers around the pouch, she felt for irritation from the ring, but there was none.

  Quinn gently took Emma’s arm and guided her to the table w
ith the backpack. “Come sit down and have a bite. It’s been a long time since breakfast, and I have a story to tell.”

  He laid out three sandwiches and the two unopened bottles of tea. The sandwiches were stumpy oblongs wrapped in white paper and secured with tape. One was marked with an e, one with a t, and the last with a v. They looked like three oversized capsules of medication. “I wasn’t sure, but I got the feeling you didn’t eat red meat, so I picked up the only three sandwiches the place offered that didn’t have it.” Quinn touched the first wrapped sandwich, the one with the e scrawled on the wrapper. “We have egg salad.” He touched the next. “Tuna. And the last is grilled vegetables and Swiss.” He smiled at her. “What’s your pleasure, milady?”

  “I’m fine with any of them, though I feel bad you didn’t get one with meat for yourself.” She untied her light jacket from around her waist and laid it on the bench next to her.

  “I don’t eat much red meat. For a while I went totally vegetarian, but it’s difficult to do when you spend so much time in other countries.” He lifted his long legs and stepped over the bench to take a seat across from Emma. “When the leader of a tribe butchers his prize goat in your honor, it’s difficult to explain you don’t eat anything with a face. Now I just eat it in moderation.”

  Emma laughed. “Tell you what, how about I take the egg and you the tuna. We’ll split the third sandwich. That way we’ll both get our veggies.”

  “Spoken like a true mom.” He handed her the egg salad sandwich and half of the vegetable one, then dug around in the plastic bag they’d been wrapped in, producing two bags of chips and a handful of thin paper napkins. “Look, we even have napkins, thanks to the girl at the counter. How civilized.”

  Emma twisted the cap off of a bottle of tea and took a drink while soaking in the atmosphere. A mansion on top of this small hill would have been fantastic. Even a small house in the location would have been lovely.

  “How come no one has rebuilt up here?”

  “The Dowd family left it to the town to be used as a park, but I don’t think they left money for its maintenance. There was some talk awhile back about a developer buying it from the city and building condos up here. I think the economy tanked those plans. In the summer, folks will walk up here to picnic or relax, but most don’t even remember this spot’s here. And some believe it’s cursed.” He took a bite of his tuna sandwich and chewed, following it up with a couple of chips. “Tell me, Emma. You’re the expert here. Do you think it’s haunted or cursed?”