Lacey threw up her hands. “Enough, Shane. Stop. You’re adding to the confusion, not helping. Mom didn’t say anything in the contact session about any of the people you mentioned.”
“But Shane has a point,” I said. “We have to consider everyone who might have a motive. Like I said before, we can’t assume your mom’s message would be clear and easy to follow. Spirits don’t usually talk that way.”
Lacey jumped up and began pacing around the room, dodging piles of clutter. “Good grief, Shane, this place is a mess. How can you live like this?” she asked as she dislodged a pizza box from her foot. “Oh, never mind. Let’s get back to Mom. With so many suspects, if she can’t or won’t give us a clear message, what can we do?”
Shane had been gazing off into space, not looking like he was paying much attention to Lacey. Then he turned his head in her direction. “Sit, Lacey,” he said. “How can I think when you’re roaming the room like that?”
Lacey returned to the couch next to me, where she perched on the edge nervously clasping and unclasping her hands.
“When a situation presents too many options, a player needs to narrow them down and focus on the most promising ones,” Shane said slowly. His steadiness was a marked contrast to Lacey’s agitation. Probably years of experience had taught him to ignore her drama.
But Lacey continued her rant. “This is not a game,” she shrieked. “We’re talking about our mother here.”
“Games aren’t that different from life, Lacey,” Shane said patiently. “If you want to get anywhere, you have to think smarter than the other characters and you have to make a plan to challenge your opponents.”
An intelligent, mature, perceptive observation. In fact it sounded like something Pablo might say. I decided I’d been underestimating Shane. I wondered whether he applied this philosophy to his entire life, and, if so, how it played out. Did it influence his long-term plans? But that was a tangent I didn’t need to explore. I pulled my mind back to the immediate situation. “What sort of plan do you have in mind, Shane?” I asked.
“I’m thinking we could shake up the possible suspects by leaking out something about Mom having told Lacey someone murdered her. We add extra bait by saying Mom said that she did make a new will and that it made some big changes. Then watch everyone very carefully to see what they do.”
An alarm bell rang in my head. What if Mirabel was actually murdered and the killer believed Lacey had gotten new information from Mirabel’s spirit? Would Shane’s plan put Lacey in danger? I decided to hear the whole plan before I brought that up. “Do you have a list in your head of all the suspects we’ll be watching?” I asked.
“There’s Dad and Judith,” Lacey said. “They wanted Mom gone so they could get married and have her money. And Dad thought he had convinced Mom to make a new will leaving out the Scientologists. So he and Judith figured they’d get most of the money.”
“And the Scientologists,” Shane said. “They knew she wasn’t as committed as she used to be, so they probably wanted her gone before she disinherited them.” Shane held up his hand and began ticking off more suspects on his fingers. “There’s Glenna. Mom was trying to convince Grandad she was ripping off his money. There’s Tim Grosso. Mom knew about his marijuana growing business and she was mad at him, and I think she threatened to turn him in. There’s Faye, inheriting the gallery. There’s that developer Hugh Symes. Mom was costing him a fortune with her prairie dog crusade. Is that enough people to watch?”
“Do you think these people would believe your mom actually talked to Lacey after she died?” I asked. “Most people don’t believe in spirit contacts.”
“Maybe they will and maybe not,” Shane said. “But if someone killed Mom, he or she might get pretty worried about what Lacey knows about how Mom died, or about a possible new will turning up.”
“Wouldn’t that put Lacey in danger?” I asked. “If there is a murderer out there who thinks Lacey knows something, that person might come after her.”
“I’m not worried,” Lacey said. “I’ve been studying aikido for self-defense for ten years now. At my level, I can handle whatever they’re likely to come up with.”
Spoken with the typical overconfidence of a twenty-four-year-old.
“Unless they have a gun,” I said.
“Come on, Cleo. This is Boulder. We’re not talking about gang members. I seriously doubt any of them will come after me with a gun.”
“I don’t think any of the people we’re looking at would take the chance of bumping Lacey off in a way that was obviously murder,” Shane said. “That would be a serious tactical error that would attract the police and probably get the killer caught. If they tried anything, it would be something they could make look like an accident—like what happened to Mom. So don’t be standing on the edges of any cliffs, Lacey, or driving on steep mountain roads where someone could easily run you off.”
This was getting creepy. I began to wonder whether Shane could distinguish between online- game battles and real-life confrontations with real-life consequences. I could hear Pablo in the back of my mind warning me what a terrible idea this plan was. “Maybe we should think about this for a few days,” I said. “I don’t want to do anything that will put Lacey–or anyone else–in danger.”
“No, Cleo. Timing is everything,” Shane said. “Today is the day Lacey talked to Mom, and Dad knew she was doing it today, so that probably means Judith knows too. Today is when we need to get the information out. Once we lose the freshness, we lose our impact.”
“I agree,” Lacey said. “And how is waiting a few days going to make any difference anyway? Let’s go ahead. I’ll leak the news to Dad and I’m sure he’ll tell Judith. And I’ll call Grandad. He’ll probably tell Glenna.”
“What about Faye and Tim?” Shane asked.
“I can tell Faye when I take Angelica to the gallery tomorrow,” Lacey said.
“Faye will probably tell Tim,” I said. “They have a thing going on.”
“So that leaves the Scientologists and Hugh Symes,” Shane said. “I know a couple of people who could spread this around in a way that is likely to reach Hugh.”
Should I offer my help in reaching the Scientologists? I was reluctant to do it, didn’t want to get involved at that level. But I remembered Tyler telling me not to just float around when Angelica was out there alone in the mean waves. I felt obliged to participate in the plan along with Shane and Lacey.
“I found out recently that I know one of the Scientologists who was close to your Mom,” I said. “He’s someone I knew a long time ago and when he found out I was involved with your family, he started pumping me for information. I refused to tell him anything, but I’m sure he’ll be interested if I offer to share something with him.”
“Sweet!” Shane said. “We’re a team on a quest. Let’s move on to the next level of play. We have our assignments, let’s get to it. And keep in touch as news comes in.” He stood up, took his pillow, and went back to his computer.
I was still trying to decide whether this plan was a huge mistake as Lacey and I got up and headed toward the door. On my way out, I glanced at Shane’s computer screen and there among the shimmery characters flying around, I briefly glimpsed a surfer in black shorts. Tyler? Was this a sign he approved of our plan and my part in it? Strangely, I felt reassured.
Chapter 27
It was nearly 7:00 p.m. by the time Lacey dropped me off at my office. I was starving but I wanted to straighten the place up before I left so it would be ready for my morning clients. Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang. My caller ID said “Elisa calling.” I was tempted not to answer, because I knew she wasn’t going to like the idea that I’d signed on to Shane’s plan to smoke out Mirabel’s murderer. But I had promised Elisa I’d keep her in the loop, so—reluctantly—I picked up.
“Hey, girl. Have you eaten yet? I’m just leaving a meeting. It’s lasagna night at Pasta Jay’s. Want to join me?”
As soon as she
said lasagna, I could taste it—the homemade noodles, gooey cheese and seasoned ground beef baked in Jay’s famous Marinara sauce. “That does sound yummy,” I said. “I can be there in fifteen minutes. Does that work for you?”
“See you there,” Elisa said.
As I walked the few blocks from my office to the homey corner restaurant, the enticing smell of garlic welcomed me. A few people were waiting outside to be called for tables, so I put my name in with the hostess. Elisa showed up about five minutes later and we were lucky enough to get a table next to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the foothills.
Some Boulderites insist Pasta Jay’s is just for tourists, but the restaurant actually has lots of devoted local fans. I’m one of those. I love Pasta Jay’s delicious garlicky marinara sauce and its cozy atmosphere of brick walls, red checkered tablecloths, posters, flowers and candles. The delicious fresh Italian food is more comfort than gourmet—but I’ve never had a dish there that I didn’t enjoy.
Elisa and I ordered a bottle of Chianti, a house salad to share and the lasagna special. We chitchatted about nothing much until we were set with our wine, garlic bread and salad. Then Elisa asked, “Have you found anything for your grandmother yet?”
I sipped my wine, then said, “No. I visited a couple more places on Sunday, but I couldn’t imagine Gramma in any of them. Like I told you the other day, I’ve been thinking about bringing her home and hiring a round-the-clock caregiver.” I stopped to spear and eat some greens with gorgonzola, then continued. “I talked to Tim again about it and he reminded me that if I hire privately I might end up getting someone dishonest or worse. Of course I know that but I plan to be careful who I pick. He said his own father got ripped off by a caregiver and it’s not so easy to find someone honest.”
Elisa fished around in the salad to get some beets and garbanzo beans with her lettuce. “Maybe it’s better to go through an agency,” she said, as she steered her full fork toward her mouth. She ate the bite, then finished her thought. “Agencies have to do background checks on their employees.”
“Agencies are a lot more expensive,” I said. “I’m trying to find out what Gramma can afford. I talked to Faye about selling more of her paintings, but she said the current ones aren’t selling well, so we shouldn’t put more on the market.”
“That seems strange, “Elisa said. “Martha’s work was always in such demand.”
“Times change, I guess,” I said. “I haven’t been following the art world much lately.”
“Do you know how many of Martha’s painting sold in the last year?”
“Not really. I figured Faye was on top of it so I didn’t have to be. And I got busy and stopped keeping up.”
“Thinking of what you’ve been busy with, how are things going with the Townes family?”
The waitress brought our lasagna, so I waited until she left, then took a deep breath and began to fill Elisa in on all that had happened in the few days since I’d called her Saturday afternoon to vent about the rejection of my conference paper. Stopping now and then to eat, I hit all the highlights—Derricks’s agitated search for Mirabel’s new will; Brian’s creepy questions about my meetings with various Townes’ family members; the startling conversation I overheard between Faye and Tim about Shane’s fake ID business; the grim information Tim gave me about Glenna ripping off his father; my unsettling encounter with Judith after driving Angelica home; Lacey’s satisfying contact with Mirabel in her session today; and finally the disturbing agreement Lacey, Shane and I had just reached at his apartment.
“Whew—all that since Saturday and it’s still only Wednesday!” Elisa said, pouring more wine into both our glasses. “You’re up to your neck in this Townes’ family mess, Cleo. I thought you agreed to be extra careful with what you promise people who come to your Contact Project. I distinctly remember that after that mess you got us into last summer, you swore you’d never go after another murderer, no matter how much someone begged you.”
I took a swig of Chianti. She had a point. Both of us had been in terrible danger last summer as a result of my helping a young widow discover who pushed her husband off a cliff. But it was Elisa who was taken hostage and almost got killed. “Look,” I said, “I understand why you’re upset and I want you to know I’m not expecting or asking for any help from you. I’m only telling you all this because you made me promise to keep you in the loop.”
“It’s not myself I’m worried about,” she said. “It’s you. Because of your lack of good judgment last summer you lost clients, you almost had your psychotherapist’s license revoked, and you nearly got killed. Wasn’t that enough excitement to at least last out the year?”
We both returned to our food, which gave us a break from conversation to let the tension dissipate. We’re the kind of good friends who push each other’s limits, but also know when to back off.
I smiled at her. “Come on, Elisa. You know I’m not in this for excitement. I feel that I have to help Angelica and Lacey. They need me.”
“You’re a therapist,” she said carefully. “I don’t have to tell you that feeling needed can be a trap. How is Pablo taking you getting back into the detective business?”
I sighed. “Not well, of course. We had a big fight Sunday morning after I updated him on the details. He says I’m in way over my head and that I should let the police handle it. He went home mad and I haven’t heard from him since.”
Elisa smirked. “Could be a good thing, given all that’s happened since Sunday. I don’t even want to think about what he’d say about the plan you hatched with Lacey and Shane to try to trap someone by spreading false information.”
I didn’t back off or look away as I replied. “I agree that may not be the best idea, but Shane was very persuasive and I didn’t have a better suggestion.”
She moved her face a little closer to me, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “How is it going to work, exactly?” she asked. “Once you spread the lie around, what will you do?”
She had me there. I looked down. “I’m not sure. We haven’t thought it all the way through. I guess we’ll see what happens, and go from there.”
“Let’s hope what happens isn’t someone getting killed,” Elisa said, pushing her advantage.
I made one final attempt to win her over—admittedly a feeble one. “You’re overreacting.”
Before Elisa could reply, the waitress stopped at our table to ask if we wanted take-out boxes for what was left of our dinners. We were both stuffed so we asked for the boxes and the check.
We let the conversation go at that point, each of us convinced that the other was missing the main point—but neither of us in the mood to push it any further.
I got home to find trash strewn all around my driveway, back yard and patio. An unpleasant surprise. Both my trashcan and my recycling bin were overturned. I cursed myself for neglecting to tie down the bins, leaving them vulnerable to the wind, which had picked up during the evening.
But then it occurred to me that a person might have done this. Someone going through my trash looking for something, or someone who wanted to send me a message. No, that was crazy. I’d probably been listening too much to Elisa and Pablo’s warnings.
In any case, I had a mess to clean up, and the sooner the better because in my neighborhood trash can attract bears, especially in the fall. I turned on the back patio light and started in. While I gathered up orange-juice cartons, junk mail, and miscellaneous trash, I thought about my promise to Lacey and Shane to share our fake Mirabel message with Brian. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to do it. I certainly didn’t want to tell Brian that Lacey had talked to Mirabel in a contact session at my office. In fact, I didn’t want to talk to Brian at all. On the other hand I had promised.
By the time I had all the trash back where it belonged, I still hadn’t decided what to do. I drifted over to a chair on my back patio, sat down, and gazed off at the foothills behind my house, hoping for inspiration.
> “Yo, Cleo. Quit worrying about nosedives. Make your stance fit the wave.”
Not exactly the inspiration I was looking for, but there hovering over the middle of my back yard was Tyler on his surfboard.
“Tyler! Where have you been? There’s lots going on and I haven’t seen you for a week—except maybe in Shane’s computer game. Were you there?”
As usual, he stayed on message, ignoring my question
“Cleo, you can’t sit in the channel and watch. Get into the lineup. Get wet. Even wipeouts are fun.”
“Fun? What are you talking about? This is dangerous stuff!”
“I told you, you need to believe in yourself. Don’t back down. You’ll blow it if you miss the good wave.”
Then, gracefully riding the crest of some virtual whitecap, he sailed off into the night sky.
Chapter 28
I had trouble sleeping that night and woke up in a funk the next morning. To settle my mind, I decided to go for a short hike in the foothills behind my house. The wind had died down overnight and the morning was sunny and warm enough to hike in a light sweatshirt. As I climbed the steep trail, I leaned into the rhythm of my breathing, keeping my thoughts quiet. I relaxed, enjoying the scent of pine needles, the feel of the breeze on my skin, the stretch of my muscles and the autumn colors of the bushes and trees around me. As I often do, I marveled at the way nature blends the many shades of red, gold, yellow, brown and green in a way that I’ve never captured to my satisfaction in a painting.
On my way back down, I let myself reflect on last night’s conversation with Tyler. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what he was telling me to do. I needed to help Angelica and keep my commitment to Lacey and Shane. I decided I would call Brian and invite him to drop by my office later. I could have met him for coffee at a safe neutral place like the Trident Café, but I wasn’t afraid of him. I figured that meeting him in my own space—the space where I operate as a professional—would give me confidence and more control over our interaction.
Too Far Under Page 18
