“Maybe I am a little too fixated on the Barretts,” he conceded. He looked at the strongbox. “We’ve got the geode. That’s the important thing.”
“It may be the most important thing to you,” Gwen said very politely. “Personally, I’ve got other priorities. I hired Judson to find out who murdered my friend, not to recover some dumb rock.”
Elias gave her what he thought of as his most winning smile, the one he used to close multimillion-dollar deals around the world. “Tell you what, ma’am, I’ll take my dumb rock and go back to Copper Beach with the cat burglar.”
“Antiquarian book dealer,” Nick said without inflection.
Elias ignored him to focus on Gwen, who did not seem overly impressed with his smile. “You and Judson can poke around here in Wilby and see what answers you turn up. How’s that?”
“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Gwen said. “When, exactly, do you intend to leave?”
Her smile was as sweet as a caramel-covered apple—the poisoned variety. Elias could tell that Judson was having trouble suppressing a laugh. It had been a while since Judson had laughed.
“We’re leaving now,” Elias said. He looked at the steel strongbox. “The sooner that stone gets into the vault at Copper Beach, the better.”
Judson straightened away from the mantel. “One more thing before you two take off.” He looked at Nick. “Sawyer, are you as good at the urban rock climbing business as Gwen says you are?”
Elias snorted. “Urban rock climbing? That’s a nice name for his line of work.”
“I’m good,” Nick said. There was no hint of false modesty in the words, just a statement of fact. He was starting to look intrigued. “Gwen and Abby tell me I’ve got a talent for it. Why?”
“I’ve got a job for you,” Judson said. “It involves some computer work, some travel and probably a little climbing and a few locks.”
“That pretty much describes my skill set,” Nick said.
Gwen’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “That’s a brilliant idea, Judson.”
Elias scowled, aware that he was losing the thread of the conversation. “What’s this so-called brilliant idea?”
Judson looked at him. “Gwen and I need information concerning the circumstances surrounding the deaths of half a dozen people who died in various towns in the past eighteen months. We need to know how they’re connected. That kind of research takes time, and we don’t have a lot to spare. We can use some assistance.”
“What’s important about the dead people?” Nick asked.
“If we’re right, they were all murdered by paranormal means,” Gwen said. “We want to find out if there is a pattern, something that would make it clear that they were all killed by the same person.”
Nick was definitely intrigued now. “You think there might be a connection between the dead people and what happened here in Wilby?”
“What we think,” Gwen said deliberately, “is that when Zander Taylor went over the falls, he did not take the camera with him. In the past year and a half, at least six more people have died in a way that is strikingly similar to the way in which Taylor’s victims were murdered.”
“What do you want me to do?” Nick said.
“At the moment, all we have are names of six people who are dead,” Judson said. “I want you to start looking into the deaths. Check out the scenes; talk to neighbors; go online. Whatever it takes. Like Gwen said, we’re looking for a pattern.”
“Give me what you’ve got,” Nick said. “I’ll see what I can do.” He looked around. “Are there any more sandwiches?”
Twenty-three
Elias stood with Judson near the front of the SUV. The rear cargo door of the vehicle was open. Nick and Gwen were back there, talking quietly, as the cat burglar secured the steel box containing the geode.
Elias cleared his throat and turned to Judson. “Your mother is going to want a report.”
“Tell Mom I’m doing fine,” Judson said. He was watching Gwen.
“I’ll do that.” Elias groped for another way to get the information Willow would demand from him. “So, you and Gwen.”
Judson raised his brows. “What about me and Gwen?”
Elias felt himself turning red. He was no good at this sort of conversation. In his opinion, there were excellent reasons why someone had invented the words personal and private. But Willow was worried, and he would do anything for Willow, including embarrass himself.
“Looks like the two of you hit it off pretty good,” he said, going for casual.
“Gwen is . . . different,” Judson said.
“Yep, I can see that. I like her. She’s got claws. That’s a fine thing in a woman.”
“Oh, yeah,” Judson said. His mouth kicked up a little at the corner.
“About that mess on the island a while back—”
“What about it?”
“Sometimes things just go south, son. Nothin’ you can do about it. You just got to walk away from a situation that can’t be fixed.”
Judson’s eyes narrowed. He stopped smiling. “I know that, Dad.”
“Believe me, I understand exactly how it feels when a man you think you can trust turns out to be a genuine diamondback rattler. It happens. You’ve got to let it go and move on.”
Judson almost smiled again. “The way you’ve moved on past your issues with Hank Barrett?”
“Barrett’s different.”
“Yeah? How?”
“Mainly because the bastard’s still alive and kickin’. But in your case, Joe Spalding is dead and good riddance.”
“I agree with you.” Judson stopped talking.
Elias waited, not sure how to proceed. So much for the fatherly pep talk.
Judson turned his attention back to Gwen. “I’m not staying awake at night wondering why it took me so long to figure out that Spalding had become one of the bad guys.”
“Good,” Elias said. “That’s good.” He paused. “Then why the hell are you having trouble sleeping?”
“You ever had the feeling that you saw something important, something you really need to remember?”
Elias thought about it. “Not exactly, but I know what you mean. Where did you see this thing that you can’t remember?”
“First time I saw it was that day it all went to hell on the island.”
Elias squinted at him. “The first time?”
“Now I think I see it in my dreams.”
“I hear Gwen is good when it comes to figuring out dreams,” Elias said.
“She says I’d have to let her walk through my dreams before she could take a crack at trying to analyze them. The process, I think, is a form of hypnosis.”
Elias squinted at Gwen. She was animated and sparkling in the sunlight as she chatted with Nick.
“Strikes me that a man would have to be absolutely sure he could trust a woman all the way to hell and back before he let her put him into a trance,” Elias said.
“Yes,” Judson said. “But that’s not the hardest part.”
“What is the hardest part?”
“Gwen sees herself as a kind of healer,” Judson said.
Now, at last, I understand, Elias thought. “You don’t want her to see you as a man who might need a nurse.”
“No,” Judson said.
“Seems to me,” Elias said, “that a man who wants respect from a woman needs to show the lady that he respects her talents and abilities in return.”
* * *
“I KNOW IT’S none of my business, but I couldn’t help but notice that the door between your room and Coppersmith’s was unlocked from both sides,” Nick said. “Would that be for, ah, security purposes?”
“It would.” Gwen handed Nick the box lunch that she had asked the inn’s cook to prepare. “And you’re right, it’s none of your business. Here you go, road food and coffee.”
“Thanks.” Nick took the sack from her. “I appreciate this. I’ll be lucky if Wyatt Earp allows a pit stop along the way. For s
ure, there won’t be any restaurant breaks. The old man is obsessed with this damn rock.”
“Thanks for helping us check out the names on that list we gave you,” Gwen said.
“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Nick said. “The job sounds interesting. Something different.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting bored with the hot books market. You’ve made a lot of money in that line.”
To her surprise, Nick shrugged. “The money’s good, but to tell you the truth, I’m not all that interested in the books or the wack-jobs who collect them. If you and Abby hadn’t convinced me to go into the business, I probably would have found another career.”
Gwen smiled. “International jewel thief?”
“We’ve all got a talent.”
“Given the nature of your talent, Abby and I thought you were better suited to the book business.”
Nick grinned. “You were just looking after me, trying to keep your brother out of jail.”
“That, too. Don’t get me wrong—it was wonderful to see you, Nick—but how in the world did you and Mr. Coppersmith end up driving down here together?”
“Abby introduced us yesterday when I went to the island to get my marching orders.”
“What marching orders?”
“Didn’t Abby tell you? No, she probably hasn’t had a chance. She asked me to walk her down the aisle.”
Gwen smiled. “Of course. No surprise there. You’re her brother.”
“Well, technically speaking, she does have a father.”
“Even if she had asked him to walk her down the aisle, I think the odds are good that he would have declined at the last minute due to some schedule conflict. I hear his latest divorce is not going well. Evidently, the most recent Mrs. Radwell is making things as difficult as possible, and word has it that the future Mrs. Radwell is getting impatient.”
Of the three of them, Abby was the only one who belonged to what—from the outside—passed for a real family. But appearances were deceiving, Gwen thought. Abby’s father, Dr. Brandon C. Radwell, was notoriously unreliable. Two-faced was another term that came to mind. Radwell was the author of the bestselling Families by Choice: A Guide to Creating the Modern Blended Family. The best that could be said about him, in Gwen’s and Nick’s opinion, was that the man practiced what he preached. Radwell was currently in the process of extricating himself from his third marriage. Wife Number Four was waiting in the wings. In the process of making and breaking families, Radwell had left Abby with a stepbrother and two half sisters. In spite of the charming family portrait on the back of Radwell’s book, Abby was not close to anyone in her legal family.
Gwen glanced toward the front of the SUV where Judson and his father were still deep in a quiet conversation. “One thing’s for sure, Abby is marrying into a real family. The Coppersmiths have wrapped themselves around her. She’s one of them now.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, they’ll take good care of her.”
“And you do look fantastic in a tux.”
“Sure.” Nick winked. “But the really good news is that Girard, the wedding planner, is smokin’ hot.”
Gwen laughed. At the other end of the SUV, Judson and Elias broke off their conversation to look at her. Judson smiled as if seeing her laugh pleased him. Elias squinted a little against the sun and nodded once, to himself, as if whatever he had seen satisfied him. Then he took out a set of keys and tossed them to Nick.
“Time to hit the road, son,” Elias said. He yanked open the passenger-side door. “You drive. I’ll ride shotgun.”
Nick looked at Gwen. “The scary thing is that he means that part about the shotgun.”
* * *
GWEN STOOD WITH JUDSON and watched the big SUV pull out of the inn parking lot. She waved one last time to Nick and then turned to go back into the lobby.
“What’s next on our agenda?” she asked.
“Next, we start talking to the people who were most closely acquainted with Evelyn,” Judson said. “Got some names?”
“Not a lot, but there is one person who is at the top of the list. Louise Fuller. I’m not saying she and Evelyn were close, because Louise wasn’t close to anyone. But they worked together on the mirrors, and in a weird sort of way, I think they understood each other. Evelyn was probably the only person in town who realized that Louise had some true paranormal talent. Everyone else thinks she’s crazy.”
“In that case, we’ll start with Fuller.”
Judson pushed open the glass door. Gwen went past him into the lobby. Riley Duncan looked at her across the front desk.
“The boss wants to talk to you, Miss Frazier,” he said. “It’s about your cat.”
Gwen stopped. “What now?”
Trisha emerged from the office, an apologetic expression on her face.
“I’m sorry, Gwen,” she said. “But my housekeeper reports that Max has taken to clawing the drapes and the bedding while you’re out.”
“Oh, dear, I didn’t realize that,” Gwen said. “By all means put the damage on my bill. I’ll start putting Max into his carrier when I’m out of the room. He’s not going to like that, but if he’s destroying the furniture—”
Trisha sighed. “I’m afraid that won’t work. Sara says she will not go in there again as long there is a cat in the room. She’s allergic. You’ll have to take Max with you when you go out.”
Twenty-four
The eerie music of the wind chimes rattled Gwen’s senses and sent slivers of ice across the back of her neck. She stood beside the open door of the SUV and looked at Louise Fuller’s small house.
The wind was kicking up in advance of the incoming storm. The sharp breeze stirred the dozens of crystal-and-metal sculptures suspended from the porch roof. The ghostly notes echoed all the way across the spectrum. Gwen glanced at Judson, who had just gotten out from behind the wheel. She knew that he was picking up the same vibes.
In the rear seat of the SUV, Max crouched in his carrier and lashed his tail, making it clear that he was not a happy camper.
“I see what you mean about the wind chimes,” Judson said. He studied the weather-beaten old Victorian. “Weird.”
“I told you, Evelyn always said that Louise has a paranormal sensitivity for tuning crystal and glass.”
She started to close the door of the vehicle, but Max yowled and flattened his ears. Gwen looked at him through the space between the two front seats.
“It’s your own fault that you had to go into the carrier and come with us,” she reminded him. “You were scaring the housekeeper.”
Max bared his fangs.
“It’s okay, take it easy.” Gwen softened her tone. “We’re not going to abandon you. We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The chimes clashed and tinkled on the rising currents of air. Max meowed, plaintively this time. He clawed at the mesh door of the carrier.
“I think I’d better bring him with us,” Gwen said. “He seems very agitated.”
“He doesn’t like being stuffed into that carrier,” Judson said. “I don’t blame him.”
She opened the rear door of the vehicle and hauled out the heavy carrier with both hands.
“I think he’s putting on weight,” she said.
Judson came around the front of the vehicle. “Here, I’ll take the carrier.”
He grasped the handle. Max did not look any happier, but he stopped complaining.
They started toward the front door.
“I’ll warn you before we go inside—assuming Louise invites us inside, which is not a sure thing—the indoor chimes are even stranger than the ones hanging from the porch roof,” Gwen said. “They pretty much guarantee that none of Louise’s visitors hangs around long.”
“Was Louise one of the subjects in Ballinger’s study?” Judson asked.
“No. Evelyn asked her to participate, but Louise refused. All she cares about are her chimes. Be prepared for her to refuse to talk to us.” Gwen paused. “Two years ago, she accused me of bei
ng a witch like her.”
Judson’s eyes went cold. “I’m assuming that wasn’t intended as a compliment?”
“I’m not sure what she meant, to be honest. That’s the thing about Louise. She lives in her own world and interprets reality through her own crystal ball, so to speak. I don’t think she intended to insult me. In her own way she was trying to warn me.”
“Did she say why you needed to be careful?”
Gwen hunched her shoulders a little against the wind and the unnerving music of the outdoor chimes.
“Something about the demon,” she said. “I asked her for an explanation, but she wouldn’t give me one.”
“Sounds like this is going to be a complicated interview.”
“It won’t be straightforward, that’s for sure.”
They went up the front steps. Judson stopped to examine one of the musical sculptures more closely. It was a large piece, consisting of several thin crystals of varying sizes and shapes. Each was wrapped in a strip of silvery metal.
“This is incredible,” he said. “At least some of the sound is coming from the paranormal end of the spectrum. I can hear it with all my senses.”
“Evelyn’s theory was that the wavelengths of music move through both the normal and the paranormal zones,” Gwen said. “That’s why it has the ability to affect us so profoundly on the emotional level. Most people, including those with no obvious paranormal ability, respond to music on the psychic level.”
“You know, I think one of these sculptures might make a great wedding gift for Sam and Abby.”
“If you want to give them one of Louise’s sculptures, you’ll have to buy it in a local shop. Louise makes her living creating and selling what she calls her tourist chimes. But her personal wind chimes are different. They’re not for sale. She calls them wards.”
Dream Eyes dl-2 Page 14
