“You think that you’ve got your man, do you?”
“Yes, we all do. Everything points to the great grandson, Malcolm. I’m just tying up loose ends.”
“Well, then I won’t stand in your way. I can confirm that the deed is indeed a fake. That was another pun, wasn’t it?”
“Very good, Frederick. There is one other thing that I was hoping you could help me with.”
I explained to him what I needed and he was eagerly onboard.
* * *
The tide was way out, and while the early afternoon sun was beating down on the sand, a constant breeze made the air a bit chilly. I sat on a blanket wrapped in an oversized cotton sweater and had protected my face from the elements with a big canvas floppy hat. From behind I could have been anyone.
I watched the sandpipers scatter in the surf and saw the bubbles from shellfish come up through tiny holes in the sand where they were buried. It was another beautiful day in paradise. I heard the panting of a dog approaching and then a soft whistle that I knew would send the dog into a down position.
“Excuse me, are you Frederick’s friend, Ann? I’m Jack, the dog trainer. He said your pet was afraid of the waves?”
I turned around and took off my hat. I saw that he had done the same with his baseball cap; Frederick’s manners were rubbing off on him. My giant looked handsome and nurturing and it was all I could do not to jump up into his arms. But I had to wait for his reaction.
“Halsey? What are you—Oh, I get it, did Frederick put you up to this?”
“Actually, I was the one who put Frederick in the instigator role. I’ve missed you, Jack.” This time there was no holding back; I pulled him down to the blanket and crawled into his arms.
We both repeatedly said, “I’m sorry” in between kisses and tears.
“This is all my fault, I just can’t leave things well enough alone and focus on myself and the people I love. I’ve always got to be chasing what’s over the rainbow. It’s not the first time that this Dorothy had to be reminded that there’s no place like home.” I reached for the wine that I had put in my picnic basket.
“That’s just it, Halsey, I don’t want you to change. I’m not going to settle for a watered-down version of the girl I fell in love with. I’m the one who has to get better at going with the flow and enjoying when things are unpredictable, even a bit dangerous.”
“Sounds like we could both use some training,” I said, pulling the cork from the wine bottle.
“I can’t believe that you came to the beach without Bardot, if she ever found out, she’d never forgive you.”
“Who says that I did? Bardot, come!”
Jack whistled for her.
When she came running, Jack looked at me astonished.
“I’m impressed, how’d you get her to stay quietly on the other side of those rocks?”
Bardot spotted Clarence, Jack’s giant schnauzer, and the two raced into the waves.
“It was easy really; I just needed to give her some friends to play with.”
“You mean some kids, other dogs.”
“There weren’t any so I had to improvise. I dug a hole in the sand right by the rocks and filled it with water. Then I dug up some sand crabs and placed them in the hole. Bardot was fascinated and every time one of them would come up out of the sand Bardot would try to play with them. They’d go right back under. I created a doggie version of Whack-A-Mole.”
“You’re brilliant,” he said.
“I love you.”
“I love you more.”
“Okay, ew, that made my tooth ache,” I said, ever the romantic.
Chapter 22
We spent the rest of the week working, eating, sleeping, and mooning over each other. We shared secrets and dreams and pretty much ignored anything going on outside our blissful bubble. But by the following Monday, we both showed signs of needing to “get on with it” as British Penelope would say.
I had the next stage of my website progress to present to the Coast Guard and Jack was starting a three-day intensive training seminar for CARA with the human/canine rescue teams. This time when we parted there was no tension; we’d clearly crossed over into a new area of trust and commitment.
When we both walked out the front door, Marisol naturally was perched on my porch, spying at the neighborhood.
“You have no pride, do you, Marisol?”
“Good morning,” Jack said, giving her a peck on the cheek.
“At least one of you has some manners.”
“I’ve got to go, hon, call you later.”
We watched Jack board his monster truck and drive off.
“So I see that you two have made up,” Marisol said, giving me a very blatant once over. “For the last four days.”
“I’m going to create an online data tracking site for you so that you can keep tabs and stay current with all your espionage victims, Marisol.” I was smiling though I wasn’t going to let anything spoil my mood today.
“Don’t need it, I keep everything up here.” She pointed her crooked index finger to her head.
“Is that why you forgot to change out of your nightgown? Too many other things crowding your brain?”
“I’m in the middle of handwashing my unmentionables, they’re soaking.”
“Does that mean that you’re not wearing—” I stopped myself and quickly sang a Christmas carol to put the thought out of my mind.
“The redheaded boy is looking for you.”
“Malcolm?”
“If that’s his name.”
“What does he want?”
“How should I know?”
“Seriously?”
* * *
After my meeting in the Marina, I decided to be bold and pay a visit to Malcolm. He was looking for me after all. His house was in moderate disrepair on the outside as workmen with three different disciplines were hard at work on renovations. Old broken stucco was being chipped away all the way down to the chicken wire and wooden beams. Electricians were working inside and out; I’d heard that the house came with its original wiring. Since the front door was open, I wandered inside where I saw engineers testing samples in the trench that was to become a basement.
Déjà vu all over again.
I made a beeline away from that and wandered into the other side of the house.
“Malcolm?” I called out although I was kind of hoping that he wasn’t home so that I could do some uninterrupted sleuthing.
No response.
It was clear that the dining room hadn’t been touched since Abigail had lived here. It was less a dining room and more of a curious antiques collection. I admired an Empire-style mahogany chifforobe that contained table linens, candleholders of all shapes and sizes, and Belgian lace serviettes. Remnants of a finer time. I knew that I was treading on thin ice the longer I stayed here, but these artifacts were just so fascinating. Penelope would have gone crazy if she’d been here.
On a stand in one corner, an antique wooden tommy submachine gun with its distinctive drum magazine stood on display. It looked like it had been taken off a dead gangster in Chicago circa 1920. It was cool but nothing that would help me in this case.
An antique curio cabinet hung on the opposite wall and through the glass panes I could see lots of items that needed exploring. I didn’t dare open it, but I found that if I closed the drapes to shield the sun, then I could see clearly through the small windows. A switch I found turned on some doll house lights mounted inside.
Wow. I hoped that Malcolm appreciated what he had here. Or was he just so determined to inherit his oil fortune that he planned to raze all of this to the ground and build one of those Walmart-sized concrete box homes that are appearing all over?
In a plain silver frame was a cover of a magazine called The Land of Sunshine. It was dated August 1900 and carried an illustration of a panoramic scene of snow-topped mountains on the horizon line, vast agricultural fields on the left, and majestic palm trees on the right.
On a small easel perched a silver spoon with an illustration of the Auditorium and Ship Hotel in Venice, California etched into the bowl. It was becoming clear that this hanging box held mementos that Abigail Rose treasured since she’d arrived in California. I next studied a brass gondola made to honor Abbot Kinney.
I was about to go until I spotted a ticket stub that was very faded and brittle. Across the top it read: ADMIT ONE—VENICE BEACH’S BEST FREAK SHOW. In the center was a very disturbing sepia photo of a contorted woman in a corset and garter belt. The caption read: “See the strange Z-shaped woman” and that was exactly what her body looked like. Her waist was parallel with the floor and her chest and head sat perfectly vertical.
Across the bottom of the ticket it said: Oddities and wonders courtesy of the Abernathy Bros.
“Can I help you, miss?” I heard from behind me and jumped three feet into the air.
I turned and was relieved to see that the voice came from someone in the construction crew rather than from Malcolm. I sure didn’t want to be caught snooping red-handed.
I quickly composed myself. “Yes, I’m looking for Malcolm whom I heard was looking for me. We seem to keep missing each other. I called out for him, but with all this noise, I suppose that he didn’t hear me.” Was that great or what? “Is he on the lot somewhere?”
I gave the man my best chest out and smile pose. It seemed to be working.
“No, he is not here right now. Are you his girlfriend?”
“What? No, I’m just a neighbor from up the street.”
“You had lunch already? Me and the boys are about to take a break and I know that everybody would be happy if you joined us.”
He gets an A for effort.
“Thank you, I have eaten, and I must get back to work.” He stepped aside so that I could pass him.
“What kind of work do you do? You need any work done on your house?”
By that point I was out the door and making a hasty retreat to Sally’s house.
* * *
“That is downright creepy,” Sally said after I told her about the curio cabinet.
“Right? Now I’m more convinced than ever that Malcolm killed Abigail. Look at his bloodline; they were a bunch of con artists with a penchant for the macabre.”
“It looks like in his family crazy didn’t skip a generation. So, Halsey, now that we know that the deed and ring are fakes, giving Malcolm a motive for doing away with his great-grandmother, what’s to stop us from going to the police?”
“Nothing, I guess, although the evidence is all circumstantial. What we really need is tangible proof to tie him to the gravesite. To show that he’d been looking for the deed this entire time.”
We both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, thinking.
“Wait a minute.” Sally sat up straight. “Malcolm doesn’t know that these items are fakes, does he?”
“I don’t think so. Brilliant! All I have to do is tell him where I’ve hidden the deed and then walk him up to the gardens. You all could be hiding near my plot and record the entire thing. Then we’d really have something to take to the cops.”
“Halsey, I was thinking that we should involve the cops. This guy is a murderer.”
“It would take too long to get Augie onboard, Sally. In the meantime he could learn about the fakes somehow, like from his neighbor Paula. No, we’ve got to do this today. He knows that I am looking to talk to him, that makes things easier.”
“Why do I know that you’ve got a plan?”
“Because we’re BFFs. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to bring Bardot with me on this mission.”
I then outlined what we needed to do.
Chapter 23
With the sting operation set in motion, it dawned on me that in the spirit of our new sharing relationship I’d better tell Jack about the plan.
“Hey, babe,” he answered out of breath.
“Hi, I know that you’re up to your knees in fur and wagging tails, but I just wanted to give you an update on the Abigail Rose case.”
“Okay, your three teams will ride in the helicopter with me to the crash site. Let’s get the dogs loaded into the back.”
He really was in the midst of a training rescue mission, and I felt guilty for interrupting him.
“I’m sorry, honey, what were you saying?”
“Nothing that can’t wait, Jack. I’m going to let you get back to your training. Who knows, maybe someday one of these teams will need to help me out of a jam.”
“I’ll be the one to rescue you, over and over again. You sure that you’re okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“Yes, you are.”
We disconnected, and I had the nagging feeling that I was not going to be fine at all.
I figured that Malcolm would first try to find me in my office, so Bardot and I headed back there. I’d made myself a cup of Lady Grey tea with cream and sugar and had a carrot in my pocket for Bardot. I sat in front of my computer and opened iTunes, then scanned my playlists. Today I wanted something soothing (the calm before the storm), so I selected the soundtrack to the movie, A Room with a View. It was about a woman coming of age in the Edwardian era in England. She has plans to marry but first travels to Florence, Italy along with her chaperone for a brief sojourn. Naturally, she is charmed by her locale and meets a fellow traveler from England who captures her heart. Together they explore life without the confines of the stern, proper demeanor that is de rigueur for a woman of her standing. She is constantly conflicted about what is right to do versus what she really wants to do. Sound familiar?
The first track is “O Mio Babbino Caro” sung by the great Kiri Te Kanawa. I’m transported every time I listen to it. I took a sip of warm sweet tea and started reviewing my notes from this morning’s meeting with the Coast Guard. Then came a knock on my side office door that opened to the street. I shot Sally a quick text and then went to open it. As I expected, Malcolm was waiting on the other side.
“Hi, Malcolm, come in. You remember Bardot, don’t you?”
Bardot wagged her tail joyously and blatantly stared at his hair.
“Stop that,” I whispered to her.
“Yes, hello, dog.”
“What may I get you to drink, coconut water, tea, a glass of wine perhaps?”
“Wine actually, wine would be good.” He was so nervous that he kept fidgeting with his hands to hide the shaking.
“Excellent choice, I’ll join you. Please sit.”
He took a seat along the conference table while I grabbed a Grenache that had already been opened. I took two glasses by the stems with my other hand and joined him at the table.
“I’d heard that you were looking for me,” we both said to each other at once.
“What, me? No I haven’t.” The wine had not yet worked its magic on Malcolm’s nerves.
“Really? I’d been told—” I stopped myself, remembering that Marisol had been the source of this apparent lie.
“Anyway it doesn’t matter, you’re here and I’m grateful for the visit.”
During the uncomfortable silence that followed, Bardot snuck around the back of Malcolm’s chair and jumped up to sniff his hair.
“Ack!” He screamed.
“Bardot, go to your place!” I angrily pointed toward her dog bed in the corner.
“I’m so sorry, Malcolm, I don’t know what’s come over her.” I whispered the name “Jack” to her, and she immediately lay down.
“There is, was, something I wanted to ask you, Halsey.”
I smiled and nodded. I wanted him to feel that he could say anything to me.
“Paula, my neighbor and your friend has told me that you’ve found some artifacts of importance under the soil of your plot up in the gardens. She said that they look to be from the early 1900s. You must know how much I admire history, especially from around this area. I was hoping that I might have a look. She said something about a deed?”
“She’s correct. I di
d find an official-looking document and an antique signet ring both had been sitting in this cigar box.” I picked the box up from my bookshelf and handed it to him. I swear that I saw him salivate.
“La Union cigars, I had a great uncle that used to smoke those things. Not a very pleasant aroma.”
Now we were getting somewhere, so I refilled his wine glass.
“Mind if I open this?” He was already in the process of doing so.
“Please.”
Malcolm took a deep breath. He lifted the lid and placed it beside the box. Inside were the blue velvet pieces of fabric that had protected its contents.
“There’s nothing else in here.” He looked at me, white as a sheet. No small feat for a man of his complexion.
“Yes, I know. The ring is out for an appraisal; I need to know its value for insurance purposes.”
Actually, the ring had been in my medicine cabinet in the bathroom since Penelope returned it to me. I was trying to figure out what I could put into the locket that could come in handy.
“And the deed?” The blood quickly returned in his face in all its sanguine glory.
“As you know there has been a heightened awareness of the possibility that oil is surging under our very feet. The legend alone has spurred some cottage criminal enterprises.” I watched his eyes for any expression change. He took a deep breath and stared directly into my eyes.
“That deed is my birthright. I knew that my great-grandmother possessed it and now it’s mine. I need that deed; I’ve searched all over Abigail’s house for it! Now please tell me where it is.” There was a sudden desperation in Malcolm’s voice that made me turn very serious.
“Calm down, Malcolm, it’s in a safe place. What makes you so sure that it is valid, and if so, can be transferred to you?”
“I have no idea whether it’s real or not, but I have the resources to find out. Besides the house, which frankly gives me the creeps, the deed is the only thing that I’ve ever stood to inherit from my family. Back even before my parents died. You have to understand this is the only thing that connects me to some sort of family heritage.”
Murder Most Fermented Page 16
