by Angie Fox
“Ask Ellis,” he repeated, with no small amount of scorn. “You would have to bring him into it.” He stood over me, and I realized all over again how tall he was. “Don’t use the good name that he built to do—” he waved a hand at the mansion “—this.”
“I know it looks bad,” I began.
“Do you?” he snapped, reaching behind his belt for his cuffs. Oh, geez. He was going to arrest me. “Do you realize how big a problem this is? The girlfriend of an officer, breaking and entering.”
I held up my hands as if I could somehow ward him off. “This isn’t necessary.”
“Then you have the gall to use him to try to get yourself out of trouble,” he said, snapping the cuffs open. “I don’t know if you get this,” he said, jaw tight, “but Ellis has worked his ass off to make it where he is. When he joined the force, the old guard was suspicious of the rich kid playing cop. His family sabotaged him from the other end. He had to keep his mouth shut and his butt in line until he proved everybody wrong. I joined the force five years in, and he was still fighting. Now he’s got the trust. He’s got the respect. And you’re blowing it all to hell.”
“I was helping him this morning,” I said, voice catching because the last thing I wanted to do was hurt Ellis, and dang it all, Duranja was making sense. “He called me because I can see things you guys can’t.”
Duranja held up a hand. “I don’t know what you think you can do, and I don’t care. I don’t.” He closed his eyes briefly, clutching the cuffs in one hand. “You don’t know how much I want to arrest you right now.”
“Then do it,” I said, holding out my wrists. I was tired of being blamed for things I couldn’t control. If Duranja wanted his revenge, he could have it.
He stared me down. “Don’t tempt me.” The officer took a deep breath and snapped the cuffs closed without me in them. “The only reason I’m not is that it would make Ellis look bad. Again. But I swear, if I catch you doing this one more time, I’m going to nail you to the wall.”
I nodded, relief coursing through me. I hadn’t realized how much I feared the metal handcuffs until Duranja clipped them back into his utility belt.
“Come with me,” he ordered, gesturing with his flashlight.
“I will,” I promised. “One second.” I took a step back toward the house. I wanted to tell Frankie to talk with Marjorie, see if we could learn more from her about our suspects.
“Now,” Duranja snapped, reaching for the cuffs again.
“Right. Yes.” I dug into my pocket for my car keys and showed them to him.
He made me ride in the back of the police cruiser as he drove me to my car parked outside the gates by the old elm. Then he watched me get in and drive away.
How was that for lack of trust?
Still, I understood his point. And his frustration. I had technically broken into the Adair estate, an event that would have left me mortified a year ago when I’d first met Frankie. But it wasn’t a private home or business. It was an abandoned property. And I hadn’t intended to take anything. Truly, there was no harm.
I bumped over the road leading away from the house and the gated part of the property. Frankie’s urn rattled on the passenger seat next to me.
As soon as I crossed the property line, he’d be dragged out of the party and into the car with me. No doubt, I’d have to hear about that.
Not only would I yank him out of the investigation, but I had also made it nearly impossible to go back.
Worse, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Duranja had said. Ellis trusted me. I loved that about him, and I took pride in the fact that we had such an honest, healthy way of treating each other. He believed in me and put himself out on a limb for me. I did the same for him.
This morning, when he’d needed help, I was glad to respond. I’d taken it for granted that Ellis and I were a team. I hadn’t fully realized how his faith in me would impact the career he loved so much. Or the price he might have to pay for me being a ghost hunter.
I turned left onto Rural Route 7, and Frankie materialized next to me with a curse. “You have the worst timing.”
“I’m starting to think so,” I said, clutching the wheel as the darkened landscape whizzed past.
“I was up five large in the middle of a hot streak,” he groused.
My grip tightened on the wheel. “You should have been talking to our suspects.”
“The Adair fellow was right next to me. People let all kinds of things slip when they’re at the tables.”
“Like?”
He grinned. “Like Marjorie Phillips was paying off the judge.”
I almost missed the curve in the road. “You mean she was bribing the judge we found dead?”
“Yep.” Frankie gave a curt nod. “Greasy Larry. Although you have to realize that isn’t exactly rare.”
“Yes, but what would a socialite like her have to do with a crooked judge?”
“That’s for us to find out,” he concluded. “Probably you,” he added, running a hand over the window ledge. “I have a feeling her lover would snap me like a twig if I so much as talked to her.”
I’d give him that.
He tilted his head back. “The inspector’s gonna be real sore I got yanked out early tonight.”
True. “Tell him we’ll make it up to him tomorrow night.” I’d just have to figure out a way to get back into that mansion without getting arrested.
The next morning, I awoke to a knock on my back door. I squinted against the bright sunlight and checked the time. Almost nine thirty.
The knock sounded again.
“Coming,” I said, easing past my skunk, who’d curled up next to me on my futon. Lucy blinked sleepily as I drew my robe from the edge of my purple couch and hurried to greet my visitor.
I opened the door, ready to apologize for my disheveled state, but I didn’t see anyone. No car in the gravel drive. Not a soul on the porch. Although, I wouldn’t know that for sure since I’d made Frankie turn his power off when we returned home last night.
I stepped out onto the porch and nearly put my foot into a pecan pie.
Strange.
Yes, it was a tradition in the South to express your feelings with food. Joyful news, sad tidings, or even an invitation to gossip came in the form of casseroles, cakes, and pies. But I hadn’t done anything to court the grapevine this week. At least I didn’t believe so.
I bent and picked up the pie, still warm from the oven. I could smell the sweet brown sugar and creamy butter. Heaven.
I stepped out onto the porch and searched to see if the mysterious pie benefactor had left on foot. But I saw only green grass, my peaceful pond, and Frankie’s shed.
Hmm…
Why pie, if it didn’t come with small talk, condolences, or congratulations?
I took my gift into the kitchen and placed it on the counter.
“Well, Lucy,” I said to my little girl, who had toddled out into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed, “it seems we have a breakfast treat.”
I opened my utensil drawer to fetch a knife and a pie server. I’d have a big slice. She could have a nibble of crust. I was about to dig in when my phone buzzed.
I fetched it from the charger next to the futon and checked the number. My stomach sank. It was Ellis. I’d meant to call him first thing. He should hear about last night from me. He should know I cared about what had happened and that he didn’t need to be worrying about me, but it seemed I was too late.
I brushed my hair back behind my ear and took the call. “Hey, you.”
“Verity.” Ellis’s voice was flat, almost no inflection. “I found a strange note on my desk from Duranja this morning.”
Yikes. I strolled into the parlor. “I meant to call you first thing, but I just woke up. I was out late last night.”
“So I hear.”
I sat on the edge of the purple couch. “It’s not as bad as it sounds.” I explained to him about the tree and the suspects at the party, and the body we found
in the boa cage. “I didn’t mean to get caught,” I finished.
He gave a long sigh. “I understand your work is important. I understand you got wrapped up and didn’t think it was a big deal to walk into an abandoned property, but, Verity, you have to work within the law.”
I realized that. “I’m usually really careful,” I said, “only Frankie’s afterlife depends on me solving this case.”
“There’s always something dire happening on the other side.” Ellis exhaled, frustrated.
Didn’t I know it? “This time, it’s even more personal,” I said, eyeing the plastic trash can in the corner of my formerly glorious parlor. It contained the dirt from my garden that had mixed with Frankie’s ashes, the rosebush I’d been watering when I rinsed them in, and Frankie’s urn, like the cherry on top.
My life was so strange now, so different. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, but Ellis had to realize: “I’m flying by the seat of my pants here.”
“I know,” he said simply, his tone warming. “You’re a good person, Verity. And you’re excellent at what you do. But if you break the law, my hands are tied. Duranja did you a favor last night. If it had been one of the other guys, you wouldn’t have been so lucky.”
I placed my feet up on the couch, using the arm as a chair. “I’m not sure I’d call it lucky. Duranja tortured me a bit.”
“Good,” Ellis quipped before growing serious once more. “If you do go back to that property, you will be arrested for breaking and entering. Duranja has arranged for a patrol to drive by every night. And if you get caught, there’s a chance you’ll have to go in front of my brother, the judge.”
Harrison didn’t like me much. Virginia had poisoned the family against me. I drew my feet closer to me. “I understand what you’re telling me, Ellis. I do.” If I had any hope of being a part of his family, heck, of once again being a respected member of the community, I couldn’t be committing crimes, however innocently.
I stared out past my empty front room, through the window to my expansive green front yard. “I’ll figure out a way to legally investigate the Adair estate.” Somehow.
Preferably by tonight.
“I hope so. There’s not much I can do to help you,” Ellis said.
“I know.” He was only looking out for me. “How are you doing?” I asked him. “Any leads on the girl in the ravine?”
“Not yet,” he said, sounding tired. “I was at the station until midnight trying to trace her identity but haven’t had any luck. There’s no missing persons report, no abandoned vehicle found nearby, nothing.”
“Could she be a drifter?” I wondered. “A hitchhiker, maybe?”
“That’s what Duranja thinks, although we didn’t find a backpack or any personal items except for a photo in one of her pockets. It was her in the middle of what looked like a happy family, and it’s not an old picture. Someone cares about this girl, I’m sure of it. I just haven’t figured out who yet.”
“That’s sad.” Her family would mourn her. They might not even realize something was wrong yet, but they’d be missing her soon.
Of course, she might have had a falling-out with her family or been on the run for some reason, but that didn’t mean they didn’t care.
“The death has officially been ruled an accident,” Ellis continued, “but it doesn’t sit right with me.”
“I wish the death spot had been more useful.”
“I’m going to keep at it,” Ellis vowed. “At the very least, I want to get this poor girl back to her family.”
“I know you do.” Ellis was a good police officer—dedicated, thorough, and uncannily insightful at times. It was interesting to see him work on an investigation like this. “You’ll find them. I’m sure of it.”
“I know I can’t keep you from working your own case,” he went on, “but try to find a way to do it legally. That’s all I’m asking.”
That was the trick. “I know that the land around the property belongs to the city, but who owns the mansion itself? The Adairs didn’t have any children, but they had to have named an heir.”
“Let’s see.” I heard him tapping on his keyboard. “The property records database has one name in it: Eliza Jean Adair. It looks like she’s a niece, and her home address is in New York City.”
“Does it include a phone number?” This could be my big break. I just had to convince a woman I’d never met to let me into a property where she couldn’t supervise me or know what I was doing there.
“There’s nothing listed. Her occupation says art dealer, but there’s no mention of any specific gallery, so that won’t help much either. I could try—” He paused as someone called his name on the other end of the line. A few moments of muffled conversation went by before he came back on and said, “I have to go. Someone drove a car into Mr. Mackelhenny’s pasture and took down the fence. Now there’s a small herd of cattle wandering toward Main Street.”
I smiled a little. “Sounds like a job for Ellis Wydell, animal wrangler extraordinaire.”
He snorted. “I couldn’t wrangle a bunch of earthworms, much less a herd of cows. I’m just going to keep the cars back.”
“Good luck with that. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Definitely.” He ended the call, and I sighed with relief. That hadn’t gone well, exactly, but it hadn’t gone terribly either. I’d known Ellis would be upset. Heck, I was upset, too. I didn’t want to break the law. But he’d spoken to me reasonably, laid out the facts, and asked me to change things.
Which I would.
I even had an idea how to do it.
It was amazing what Google could get you these days. Five minutes on my phone led me to a website for Elements Gallery in Brooklyn, where Ms. Adair was listed as the sole owner and proprietor. There was also a phone number.
I slid off the arm of the couch and stood. Somehow, I sounded more proper when standing.
“What do I say to her?” I asked Lucy.
The skunk blinked up at me with big black eyes.
“I should be myself,” I told her. “That’s what I always tell you, isn’t it?”
But I could hardly call her up and say, ‘Hi there, Eliza Jean, I’m a ghost hunter from Sugarland who needs to solve a murder that happened back in 1928 during one of your aunt and uncle’s bacchanals, so do you mind me traipsing around your family home for the next two days so that I can keep my gangster ghost out of prison?’
She’d most likely call me a crank and hang up right after ‘ghost hunter.’
But I did have one more tool in my box.
“I’ve got it.” I gave Lucy a pat.
She rubbed up against my leg, as if to say way to go, girl.
I smiled and tapped in the number.
Someone picked up on the third ring. “Elements Gallery.”
“EJ Adair, please,” I said, more confident than I felt.
Fake it until you make it.
The phone clicked, and for a second, I thought the receptionist had hung up on me.
Then a slightly raspy voice said, “EJ here. How may I help you?”
“Hi there, Ms. Adair.” I scooped up my skunk and held her close. “My name is Verity Long, and I’m calling on behalf of the Sugarland Heritage Society.”
I was a card-carrying member. And after all the trouble I’d gone through solving their ghost issues, they could help me with one of mine. I strode toward the mantel in the parlor, the half-truth tumbling out of my mouth as I walked. “I’m researching the history of the Adair estate property and was wondering if I might have your permission to look around.”
“The… oh, heavens, that old place?” EJ’s brassy Brooklyn accent faded, and I detected the hint of a Southern drawl. “Good grief, I haven’t thought about the estate in years. It’s still standing, then?”
I stroked Lucy on the head. “It is. The exterior is absolutely lovely, I can see why it was the toast of the town back when your aunt and uncle lived there.”
When EJ spoke again, her
voice was warmer. “It was a popular place. Uncle Graham and Aunt Jeannie loved company, and they pulled out all the stops when it came to parties.”
And then some. I leaned against the wall next to the mantel. “Between the beautiful house and menagerie, the Adair estate is one of the most interesting and unique properties in all of Sugarland. I’d love to learn more about it.” Lucy wriggled, and I let her down. “If you don’t mind, it would be helpful if you could give me permission to enter the house. I could document the inside as well as the outside.” She didn’t respond, so I added, “I’d be more than happy to share what I’ve learned. I’m not interested in moving or taking anything, I just want to see it up close.”
“Oh. Well, I…sure, I suppose it would be nice to see how everything compares these days. I haven’t been there myself since I was in junior high. All I have to go on are old pictures.”
“Pictures?” I braced a hand against the wall and seized on her remark like a catfish snapping at a crawdad. “Do you have any of the animals? Like, say, a boa constrictor?” If she had pictures of the boa’s cage, then I could compare it to what we were seeing at the party and tell if the dominant ghost was manipulating the scene in some way.
“I believe I do. I loved that boa when I was a child.”
I wanted to hug her through the phone lines.
She chuckled. “I once asked my parents if I could sleep in the snake cage, but they weren’t willing to leave me alone with Sir Charles, and I refused to let them kick him out of his home.”
“Sir Charles, the snake?”
“Oh yes. I used to play with that old snake all the time.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I have a picture of my eighth birthday party with him looped all over me while I put a birthday hat on him. It used to give my mother fits, but he was such a gentle creature.”
I’d have to take her word on that. “Would you mind emailing copies of those photos to me so I can use them to put together a presentation for the board of the heritage society?”
“Oh, not at all, not at all. I’d be happy to.” She paused. “It’s nice to see you taking an interest in the old place. That’s what I like about small towns. You’re proud of your history.”
