Sapphire Nights

by Patricia Rice

  “You need to sleep and eat,” Sam remonstrated. “We have lots of time before bulldozers come up here.”

  “No, no.” She shook her long hair. “They’ll come in the dark and raze the trees while we’re sleeping. We can’t let them find the art!”

  Gazing at the treeless basin, Sam winced. Mariah called Daisy’s irrationality time-walking. It sounded more like hallucinations to her.

  She carried the stone figurine out to the line apparently meant to circle the foundation. She set it about the same distance as Daisy had the others. Taking the flashlight, she studied the small army. Even hastily constructed, the stone and stick figures were all tiny works of art, expressing excitement, anger, tension—all the emotions generated by the outdoor meeting. Sam marveled at Daisy’s talent and wondered if the figures could be sold in places like state park gift stores. She needed to call Jade’s gallery owner. She had contacts.

  Tullah and Walker appeared at the top of the ridgeline. They’d apparently met up with Harvey, who started down the hill, carrying an armload of dry branches. Sam waved. It was still new and exciting to have found a few people who might possibly accept her, even when she talked about shivering sticks. Back at the university, they would have been horrified that she wasn’t sending out her resume. Her friends from high school would have giggled over these diverse and eccentric people. But Sam sensed only concern and interest as the others strode toward her.

  Walker hugged her as he followed her through the manzanita hedge. Tullah and Harvey stopped to check the lamassu army as she had just been doing.

  Daisy held out another figurine. In the beam of the flashlight, the crystals in the rock glittered. “Tullah can gather the stones. Tell Harvey I need more pine and sage and there’s still a laurel up there on the ridge. He’ll know.”

  How did she know who was out there? Sam tried to peer through the hedge from Daisy’s perspective but it was too thick to see anything.

  Walker took the figure but studied Daisy. “You okay? Can you get up and walk around so we don’t worry?”

  She shoved her hair out of her eyes. “You could have brought food.” She picked up her staff and used it to pull herself to her feet, then shouted her commands at the two on the other side of the hedge.

  At Walker’s expression, Sam hid a giggle. He’d removed his sunglasses in these shadows. She was amazed he wasn’t rolling his eyes.

  “I think you better come down for a rest,” she told the older woman with concern. “We’ll bring an army of people up in the morning to help you.”

  Daisy frowned but wavered uncertainly. “Where’s Valdis? She promised to help.”

  “We don’t know. We’re looking for her too.” Sam’s unease turned to her aunt. Younger than Daisy, Valdis had the limber strength of a mountain goat. Sam hadn’t been worried about her, until now.

  Daisy looked reluctantly at her treasure of junk. “I really shouldn’t. But Valdis heard the spirits call. We’d better see what she’s found.” She nodded appreciatively, if absent-mindedly, as Harvey pushed through the hedge to deposit his load of twigs in her workplace. Sam thought maybe he’d been here before.

  Leaving her tools, Daisy hobbled over the low stone foundation with Walker’s help. Harvey was already cutting branches from nearby trees, and Tullah had a skirt full of stones of different sizes. Sam shook her head in astonishment that seemingly intelligent, educated people would follow Daisy’s crazy orders.

  But this was what community did—accepted each other as they were, Sam was beginning to understand.

  “We’ll leave these for you to start with in the morning,” Tullah called. “We’ll come right down after you.”

  “Cougars,” Walker said. “Move it quickly.”

  Sam took Daisy’s left side and Walker her right and together, they climbed out of the hideaway.

  “Is the cart operating?” Walker asked.

  “Should be, but I banged the bumper. Valdis won’t be happy.” Daisy gestured at the back end of the camouflage-painted golf cart.

  “I’ll back it out, see if it still runs.” Walker shoved aside broken branches to expose the now well-scratched sides of the cart.

  “Thank you for my lamassu,” Sam said while they waited.

  Daisy nodded absently. “Bad spirits can go in good places. Let him guard your door.”

  “Did you see Xavier there when you stopped by?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could.

  Walker shot her an approving glance as he backed out but stayed silent. He did that a lot, Sam noticed. He listened and waited and when it was time, he acted. She liked the way he’d taken charge of the search, while letting others do their own thing.

  “He’s haunted,” Daisy said. “Evil has drained his soul. I told him to rebuild by doing good deeds.”

  She sounded perfectly rational, as if discussing last night’s dinner. It was the content of her speech that had Sam shaking her head. It was rather like having a sideways conversation.

  “He overdosed. He’s in the hospital now. Do you know why he might have stopped by my place?”

  Daisy stopped and frowned at the darkening sky. “He knows who wants to kill you. He consorts with the Evil One.”

  Chapter 24

  Evening, June 22

  * * *

  By the time they reached Hillvale, it was full dark, and both search parties had either gone home or gathered in the café. Walker noted the Kennedy Escalade parked in the lot, with Francois sitting inside, drawing on his cigarette. Did that mean Carmel had returned?

  Inside the café, Monty and Mariah were glaring at each other, but at least the mayor had waited around instead of driving back to the lodge. No other Kennedy was present though, so why was Francois here? Monty’s Tesla was usually parked behind his office.

  Seeing a graying blond head at the far end of the counter, Walker answered his own question. Carmel’s artist brother didn’t drive or even come to town often. The chauffeur must have brought him. Lance was contemplating a selection of pastries as if they were a still life to be painted. Walker almost laughed when Lance moved a beignet into a more artistic composition with the fruit tarts on his plate.

  Oddly, Alan Gump, the real estate magnate from the city, was also at the counter, drinking coffee and telling loud stories to a group of business owners. Why was he here at this hour? Had he already set up his development office?

  The Lucys gathered at the far end of the counter from the Nulls, near the entrance. They hugged Daisy in excitement at her return, chattering and keeping their voices low, so the Nulls couldn’t overhear.

  Walker was glad these people weren’t normally violent because the divisiveness was becoming more apparent every day.

  Sam settled Daisy on a stool so Dinah could pamper her.

  Confused by the way Sam, the scientist, fit in so easily with the crazies, Walker sat beside Monty for a normal summary of events. “Valdis?”

  “Mariah said they searched the cemetery and didn’t find her. For whatever reason, they’re waiting for you and Sam to come up with a better solution. Got any?” Monty slugged his coffee as if it were whiskey.

  “Bloodhounds? Wiggling sticks?” Walker gratefully accepted the burger Dinah slapped in front of him. He didn’t quibble over the avocado and sprouts because the bite of sriracha sauce made nutrition worthwhile.

  Monty went back to glaring, this time at the mural. Lance appeared to be studying it almost surreptitiously, in between rearranging his food. And there was the reason Carmel’s artistic brother had deigned to descend from the mountain—he’d heard about Lucinda Malcolm and the mural that had been staring them in the face all these years.

  Finding Cass looking gloomy in one of the booths, Walker decided if he had to look at misery, it ought to at least be female, he picked up his plate and sat across from her. “How is Xavier?”

  “If you’ve tested the kerosene can for prints, you already know he burned the cross,” she said without hesitation.

  Walker raise
d his eyebrows in surprise at this admission. He knew the story he was about to hear would have nothing to do with rationality, but he asked anyway. “He burned the mountain so the Kennedys had to go forward with the condos?”

  Cass glared at him. “He says the spirits made him do it, but he thought they were the good spirits telling him to cleanse the evil. He says he only planted the cross and didn’t start a fire. So now he’s not so sure if the spirits were good or evil, and he wanted to ask Sam. Why would he want to ask Sam?”

  “Because he’s crazy like everyone else up here?” Walker suggested. “Did he say where he got the drugs?”

  Cass cast him an evil eye, but at least she was looking less depressed. “Are you going to arrest him? He needs medical help, not prison.”

  “Is anyone pressing charges? If he lit that fire, he pretty much destroyed the resort’s business, so it’s Kurt and Monty you need to talk to.” Which is why Xavier had gone to Sam, Walker realized. Cass wouldn’t talk to the Kennedys, but Sam might go with him to explain. The man was only half-crazy.

  “The sheriff’s office will press charges if you tell them to,” Cass said.

  “The sheriff’s office will do whatever the D.A. says,” he corrected. “I’ll take a wild guess and assume the D.A. will have difficulty convicting with only a drug-addicted mental case’s half-confession, unless there is other evidence. The kerosene can was a plant to make sure he was implicated and probably to explain his overdose. It was wiped clean of prints.”

  Cass’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then she narrowed her eyes and glared when she realized she’d given away Xavier’s confession for nothing.

  Walker continued without waiting for her protests. “I can’t imagine Xavier was lucid enough to wipe fingerprints if he meant to confess. They can’t even get him for possession, since he had nothing on him. And last I checked, they still didn’t have the blood analysis. From what was said the other night, chances are good that this wasn’t a normal overdose and someone tried to kill Xavier. That’s the person I want.”

  Cass looked thoughtful. “We don’t do drugs up here anymore. Maybe I can pry his source out of him. I was reluctant to ask for fear he’d incriminate himself more.”

  “We want killers, not demented old men, although if Xavier is in the habit of burning out the spirits, he may need help.” Walker waited, but Cass didn’t respond. Dementia had many disguises in Hillvale. “Where do you think Valdis might be? Is this unusual for her?”

  “I don’t think she’s conscious,” Cass said worriedly. “She has a very strong presence. If she was awake, I’d eventually hear her or she would hear me. She said she wanted to visit with the spirits of her parents before she followed Daisy. As far as I’m aware, that’s the last anyone saw of her. I’d hoped she was with Daisy.”

  Walker didn’t know how to react to Cass hearing Valdis. But the possibility that Xavier may have been given a lethal overdose on purpose escalated the possibility that a killer was targeting the Lucys for a reason. Not that Xavier was officially a Lucy, but he lingered there on the edge, betwixt and between—as did Sam, Walker realized worriedly. And both had connections to the Kennedys—if that had any relevance.

  Since land fraud had been the reason his father was killed. . . Still no obvious connection to recent occurrences. If the Kennedys and the development company were working with Mendoza, they had all the land they needed. The Lucys were barely a speed bump on their highway to riches.

  Xavier had been in Hillvale when Walker’s father was killed. Valdis hadn’t. But Valdis was Sam’s aunt—and part owner of a rather valuable piece of land. As was Sam. Instinct roiled.

  How many people knew the farm still belonged to Ingerssons? Did it matter?

  Walker finished his burger and slipped out of the booth. “I want to take another look at the cemetery. If I don’t find anything, I’ll put in a report to the sheriff’s office, persuade him Valdis might be in danger so he’ll organize a search party.”

  “You’re a good man, Walker. I’m sorry about your father, but if it brought you up here when we need you, Fate has served its purpose.”

  Walker wasn’t any too certain of that, but Sam met his eyes as he returned to the counter, and he almost started believing in the stars and planets and Fate as well. They were in synch in ways he couldn’t explain. He saw her concern, and it was the same as his.

  “I want to give the cemetery another search,” he told her, keeping his voice low.

  “I’m going that way,” she said, agreeing without saying the words. “Do you want anyone else?”

  Walker cast a glance over the crowd. He’d like to have Harvey and the mayor, since they hadn’t searched the cemetery earlier, but he didn’t see a good way to extricate them without everyone zooming in. “One of them could very well be a killer. If they sabotaged the search earlier, I’d rather not have them do it again.”

  That raised her eyebrows. She obviously didn’t have his experience with the criminal mind. And at this point, he feared he was dealing with a killer who planned ahead, not a flake who OD’d. Homicide was not his division, in his real job or this one, but his background and education had developed his instincts for danger.

  Following his example, Sam casually waved at Dinah. “I’m too tired to think. I’ll be down early to clean up, Dinah, so leave everything in the sink.”

  Hoots and catcalls followed them out, but Walker didn’t give a damn. He steered Sam to his official vehicle and kept an eye out to see if anyone followed.

  Monty and a blustering Alan Gump emerged, arguing vociferously. Both men were large, but Gump was older and carried more fat than muscle. Unless Gump was carrying a gun, the mayor could hold his own. Walker fastened his seatbelt and kept an eye on his rearview mirror. Lance trailed out to the Escalade, looking morose. By the time Walker had his vehicle in gear, half the diner had emptied and some were striding toward the cemetery.

  “I don’t think you can keep what we do quiet in Hillvale,” Sam said in amusement, watching the side mirror and following his thoughts.

  “I shouldn’t have told Cass I was taking another look around. Damn, when will I learn?” Just in case he might fool anyone, he drove the SUV down Cass’s drive and parked in front of the garage/studio.

  Anyone following would most likely be on foot and take a while longer to catch up.

  “Let me run up and get another flashlight.” She dashed up the stairs and came down in an instant, shoving flashlights in her pockets and dangling a small backpack off her shoulder. “I brought a snakebite kit, just in case.”

  Walker was out of the car with his own flashlight in hand. “What’s your hang-up about snakes? They’re more afraid of you than we are of them.”

  Swinging her walking stick, she easily fell into stride with him, cutting across Cass’s yard and keeping to the concealment of the shrubbery. “Got bit when I was a kid. The pain was beyond excruciating. Only time I ever saw my parents go into full-scale panic. They were screaming at each other. I was terrified, and I’m sure they must have been out of their minds with fear, but it was their screaming that told me I was in trouble. They never argued.”

  “So you associate snakes with dying and panic?” he asked, trying to grasp her fear.

  “Mostly, I think I associate it with losing the ones I love. I was afraid they were going to divorce and go away like the parents of some of my friends, and that made me panic even more. I know it’s an unreasonable phobia, that snakes are good for the environment, but I can’t even look at one long enough to identify it. I just freak and run.”

  “At least you have a good reason. Most people freak without thinking.” Like Tess. Walker tried not to compare, but his mind kept wanting to believe Sam was different, that she might be the partner he needed. But that was loneliness speaking. And good sex. OK, and she fascinated him—always a dangerous sign when a woman engaged his brain.

  She swung her stick and stayed silent. He liked that she didn’t talk for the sake of talk
ing. When they reached the cemetery, he concentrated on looking for footprints in the dry ground, but too many people had traipsed this path and dust wasn’t permanent.

  “She’s not here,” Sam said abruptly. “I want to check the amphitheater. I’ll meet you back here in half an hour.”

  Walker fought the protective urge to follow. Sam was an adult. She didn’t need a babysitter. And she’d just told him Valdis wasn’t in the cemetery as if she knew something he didn’t. As if she heard voices in her head?

  Clenching his molars, Walker stomped up to the cemetery, alone.

  An owl hooted and flapped its wings over her head. Sam jerked nervously. Walking up to the vortex had been different in daylight, or when she’d been surrounded by people she knew. Out here on the rocks, all alone, the hike was a little intimidating. If she tripped, she’d have to scream loudly for help, and she wasn’t certain anyone would hear.

  She tried not to think about snakes and cougars or nasty spider webs.

  The trees had been logged long ago. It was just scattered underbrush and rocks—and forces that drew her staff as if iron to lodestone. She wondered if that was part of the magnetism of the vortex—a layer of magnetite beneath the layers of sandstone and granite. But magnetite wouldn’t draw wood. She could swear the staff twitched from vibrations, and the crystal eyes in the handle possessed an ethereal gleam. Refusing to believe in the supernatural, she wasn’t afraid, just curious. She followed its direction around the top of the amphitheater, not into it.

  She had to assume twitching staffs were ideomotion. She wanted to find her aunt, therefore her brain provided sympathetic pulses so she imagined she was helping. She should be searching with the others. If Valdis was dead or injured, Sam couldn’t send psychic help messages to the universe. She needed real live cell reception.

  If the Kennedys wanted to build condos out here, they’d have to build cell towers first. How did one go about doing that?