Moonstone Shadows

by Patricia Rice

  Now that she had a better picture of the lodge’s layout, she followed in the path of the others down the hall toward Carmel’s room. She halted at the long, dim corridor to the right leading to the swimming pool. She hadn’t been much interested in it the night she’d discovered the pool locked. It smelled of chlorine and had no guest rooms. If she had to guess, the blank wall on the left might conceal Carmel’s private courtyard. The back wall of the lobby and business office was on the right side, so except for decorator artwork, that was blank as well. Slipping down the corridor, she found a door in the approximate area of the business office labeled Employees Only. She pushed it open to a stockroom.

  In the back of the stockroom she found a door leading to the business office—a shortcut from the pool area to the main hall off the lobby.

  She returned to the pool corridor. On the far end near the pool, she located a fire exit on the left. The sign said to open only in case of emergency, so it would probably emit an alarm if she tried it.

  But any employee who carried the keys to the lodge might be able to open it without sounding an alarm.

  All the Kennedys probably had keys—but she hadn’t seen them emerging from an office that had an indirect path to Carmel’s private courtyard.

  Roper had no motive for killing Carmel. Who else could have come through this way? Not a guest. Staff maybe?

  Anxiously, she hurried to where everyone was gathering inside and outside Carmel’s suite.

  Roper shot her a glare—he’d known she’d been right behind him that night. Kurt didn’t notice her delay. He’d been too upset to acknowledge her existence. The security guards were off to one side, where Kurt had ordered them at the time.

  Aaron was outside with the others, as before, although this time he appeared to be searching for her and looked relieved when she waved at him. She definitely needed to leave Hillvale or she’d lose her mind just trying to catch glimpses of Aaron as she went about her day.

  Walker stood in the closet doorway as an observer. He narrowed his eyes at her dalliance but didn’t speak. He had a stop watch in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other.

  Ignoring the reenactment of discovering Carmel, Hannah slipped out of the bedroom, back into the suite living room. A patio door slid open into a small courtyard, as she remembered. Walker and his men had covered all this territory. Fingerprints were useless when everyone Carmel knew had been in here at some time or another.

  Hannah didn’t want to attract attention, so she didn’t open the door. She merely confirmed a wall enclosed the courtyard, one with a gate in back. Locked? Probably.

  She returned to the bedroom and tried to look faint and ill to excuse her pacing. Walker sent her another hooded glance, then spoke into the walkie-talkie, ending the drill.

  Looking annoyed and without waiting dismissal, Roper strode out of the room trailing the security guards.

  Aaron and Kurt quit play-acting and joined Walker. The room filled with people. Hannah didn’t want to accuse Roper in front of a crowd.

  Reporting her findings was all that was necessary, wasn’t it? A librarian observed.

  While the others discussed their discoveries, Hannah connected to the lodge’s wi-fi and began typing.

  Twenty-nine

  The reenactment had accomplished nothing. Aaron had hoped they might trip up the culprit on their story of that night—or more superstitiously, that the soldier’s crystals in Daisy’s lamassu might absorb enough evil to free the truth. But he knew better than to place hopes on anything but good old-fashioned hard work.

  After their argument, he didn’t question Hannah’s reluctance to join the discussion. She had retreated to full librarian mode, observing but not participating unless she had something to contribute.

  She was right to back off. He had to quit caring and let her go her own way.

  “The medieval casket is probably worth more than the rocks,” Aaron told Kurt Kennedy as they waited for Walker to analyze the results of their exercise. “I’d hate to see it leave Hillvale, but it probably belongs in a museum.”

  “I doubt museums can pay off our debts,” Kurt said with cynicism. “And if the box originally belonged to Cass’s family, I’d feel guilty about selling it. Maybe the best thing to do is put it in our town museum.”

  “Since it’s not jeweled and has no particular refinements, that might be the best use. I can clean it up. Hannah can probably write a storyboard to go with it.” If she stayed around. He had no family here. Maybe he should be the one to leave—after they found a killer. “We can enlarge one of my photos of the Eversham painting and hang that with it. Tourists will lap it up.”

  “Socialism,” Kurt pointed out with a laugh. “Cass usurps your painting without paying for it—for the common good. I hand over a valuable museum piece without compensation so the town benefits—and ultimately the town’s business increases. Not sure that Cass’s theft actually benefits us though.”

  Aaron snorted at this assessment, figuring Kurt needed a little escape from the intensity of what they were doing. “Has the coroner released your mother’s remains yet?” Out of habit, he ran his hands near the surfaces he passed as they paced Carmel’s bedroom, keeping enough distance to avoid any psychic jolts.

  “He has. We’ve arranged a quiet cremation in the city. I thought we might have a small memorial service here for staff so they have closure.” Kurt stared unseeingly at the beautifully curated version of his mother represented by her tastefully expensive décor.

  “She was a vital part of this town for nearly half a century,” Aaron acknowledged. “We might hold a ceremony too.”

  Kurt nodded absently. “Just standing here makes me feel as if I’m absorbing her negative. . . energy. Isn’t that what the Lucys call it? I want to post an admission price outside the door and let the ghouls come in to admire her handiwork.”

  “I can see the temptation. I suspect if you ask Teddy’s sister, she’ll tell you the cost of these furnishings. They’re quality, probably custom made for your mother. It’s quite possible Sydony could sell the furniture to some of her Silicon Valley clients. Even the draperies could be remade for pillows or comforters. I think you might earn more renting the room nightly than as a museum piece.” Aaron tried not to sound concerned about Kurt’s odd suggestion.

  Kurt laughed. “I know. I think Teddy is rubbing off on me. I’m starting to believe in evil vibrations. We’ll find a place to warehouse these and I’ll ask Syd what she thinks.” He looked up and gestured at his uncle, who was hanging around uncertainly outside. “Lance, tell us what you think we should do with all this.”

  Lance had said he’d been in his cottage when he’d heard Carmel’s screams. Accustomed to his sister’s temper, he hadn’t thought anything of the argument until the screams had stopped. Aaron hadn’t seen him in his wandering because Lance’s cottage was on the far side of Carmel’s room. For the reenactment, Lance could only linger outside as he said he had that night. He’d admitted that he’d had Francois drive him into town as soon as he’d learned that Carmel was dead. Francois had essentially been as close as Lance had to an alibi, and he was dead.

  “Sell the furniture if it’s worth anything,” Lance agreed. “But with our housing shortage, you might want to rent out the suite as a private residence long-term rather than nightly.”

  Aaron backed away, letting the family decide what to do with Carmel’s effects. He’d always found this the saddest part of any death. There were funerals and rituals to handle human remains—but everything the deceased ever touched had the potential to become a sacred memorial. That’s where he usually stepped in, putting monetary value on sentiment. It was seldom worth much.

  He finally gave in to the temptation to seek out Hannah in the front room. He’d found nothing new or unusual on the surfaces in the bedroom. Perhaps the living area would provide a hint.

  Hannah wasn’t there. Trying to believe it was best that she removed the temptation of her enhancing abilities, h
e tested any furniture that might reveal clues to Carmel or her visitors. Anger coated so much of what he felt that it was impossible to sort through any specific memories. Despite all her wealth and beauty, Carmel had been a seriously unhappy person.

  Aaron pondered that as he stepped into the corridor. Carmel had family and acquaintances who might have become friends, but her only goal had seemed to be wealth. From things he’d heard, she’d also pushed an old-fashioned notion of social standing and possibly political power. He thought it was the emptiness of her goals that caused her unhappiness. She didn’t want wealth or power to improve the town or people’s lives. She sought them simply because she knew no other goal.

  Life had been sucked out of her early.

  Aaron knew how that happened. Life had been sucked out of him for years, until he was simply surviving because he could. At least he’d found goals outside himself, but guarding Hillvale had about as much purpose as gaining political power if he didn’t mean to improve himself or anything else.

  Hannah had taught him to want more than that—and that shook him to the core.

  After texting her report to Walker—and to the Lucys—Hannah had almost decided to walk down the hill toward town. It might be possible to cut through the landscaping instead of using the dangerously narrow and dark drive. She’d hiked the hills of Scotland, after all. This was nothing.

  She just had this itchy feeling in the middle of her back that hate arrows were being aimed at her. Did hate have an energy?

  Monty Kennedy emerged from the bar area with some of the other re-enactors. At seeing Hannah standing there alone, he offered a ride back to town. Gratefully, she accepted it. She needed time to think, and it was very difficult to do in Aaron’s imposing proximity, especially when he was in professorial mode.

  She hadn’t sent her report to him. She didn’t even have his phone number. What did that say about their relationship? Nothing good.

  “Is Hillvale starting to grow on you, or are you ready to pack your bags and run?” Monty asked jovially as they drove down the hill.

  Hannah had to think about that too. “I like Hillvale,” she decided. “I’m just afraid I’m not suited to be a teacher. And I’m not a very good Lucy either.”

  “Like Aaron,” Monty said with a laugh. “He’s lousy at being part of a group. Good man, always there when needed, just not a joiner.”

  He pulled the car up in front of the antique store and let her out. “Talk to Fee,” he suggested. “She had a hard time believing she could fit in too. But now she’s part of the clockwork.”

  “I’ll do that, thank you.” Hannah waved him off, then let herself inside the shop. The back wall and door had been replaced, so her room should be safe enough.

  She stood in the dark shop window for a moment, watching the last of the festival-goers climbing onto the trolley, laughing and holding balloons and flashy party lights. She had no real desire to be part of a noisy group like that. She belonged in empty hills or quiet libraries.

  Or a nunnery. Snorting at that, she followed the nightlights through the newly-arranged inventory to the stairs.

  She wanted to be useful, she knew. She simply didn’t know how, other than handing out information from books.

  Going up the stairs, she checked to see if Aaron’s wi-fi was connected, then read her text messages.

  Mariah had written: What if it’s the box that’s important, not the rocks?

  Hannah collapsed on the stairs and skimmed rapidly through the responses from other Lucys.

  The box had appeared in both paintings. The painters had deliberately displayed the intricate box in more detail than the rocks. Had that been a symbol of what they hadn’t dared convey in writing?

  Hannah opened the library in her head and began searching on box and jewel casket.

  The front door opened, and she jerked back to the moment. It was dark, but she knew who stood there—Aaron.

  His stride was quick and sure as he traversed the shop. He only halted when he realized she was there.

  “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked.

  “I don’t need light to read my library,” she explained. “The Lucys are asking for information, and I think I’ve found what they need. Give me a minute.”

  She hastily texted her findings while Aaron checked his locks and security. He seemed as cool and calm as always, so maybe it was her own nervousness that detected an element of tension. She was very bad at relationships for just this reason. She was too detached and caught up inside her own head. She’d told him she was leaving. Why was he here?

  She stood up to indicate she was done. “Did Walker learn anything?”

  “Only what you told him. You didn’t tell me? Why?” He came to stand at the foot of the stairs.

  Ah, male ego, understood. “I didn’t have your number,” she reminded him. “I’m sorry you didn’t learn more. Did the lamassu with the rocks help at all?”

  “No one got killed,” he said dryly, taking the phone from her hand and adding his numbers. “I wasn’t hard to find. You could have told me you were ready to leave.”

  “I’m capable of looking after myself. I don’t want to be dependent on you.” Retrieving her phone, she hated that they were ending the most exciting sex she’d ever known. Relationships needed more foundation than the physical, and neither of them seemed skilled at more.

  “Does that mean you’re sleeping here again tonight? We still haven’t caught whoever set the place on fire.”

  “The Lucys want to search Roper’s cabin,” she stated baldly. The idea terrified her, but she’d been the one to suggest it. She wasn’t ready to go back to being quiet, unobtrusive Hannah just yet. Before she retired to Scotland, she wanted to do something with her life.

  She just wasn’t certain how to work around the mountain that was Aaron. She wanted him. She’d like to have his approval and his aid. She simply couldn’t ask him to ruin his life all over again.

  “Breaking and entering is illegal in every state I know of,” he countered. “Let Walker do it.”

  “Walker can’t. He has no reason for a warrant. And no reason to believe me that Roper wasn’t where he said he was. And he has no motive whatsoever. But if we learn Roper has the moonstone, then we have evidence to convince him there’s more to the story.”

  Aaron was silent for a moment. She knew he was processing what little he knew and rejecting her idea. She would have done the same a week ago. She probably ought to now. But she’d come all this way in search of that stone, and she wasn’t letting a killer have it.

  If Roper wasn’t a killer, then no one need bother him. She’d chalk up the anomaly of his behavior as that of a busy man with no patience for playacting.

  “Let Mariah slap him with ectoplasm or Fee feed him truth serum,” Aaron said. “There are better ways to find out if he’s involved and to find the stone.”

  “Using enhanced psychometry on the jewel casket is another way,” she reminded him. “All our gifts are dangerous—and unreliable. The Lucys will keep guard. Roper never returns to his cabin during the day. He’s too controlling.”

  “The casket has nothing to do with anything except the moonstone. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Now he sounded angry. “A damned stone won’t make you better. I’ve offered to send you to the best doctors in the world. I can afford it.”

  “You can’t afford being tied to another dying woman,” she retorted, not knowing why she was angry but striking out anyway. “I’ll find the moonstone and go back to Keegan’s where I can pay for my own healthcare. Stop hovering.”

  “You’re behaving like a suicidal teenager,” he shouted. “You’re more concerned with playing magic games than looking for real solutions—solutions to murder as well as to the knot in your brain! Magic won’t make either happen!”

  “I am not suicidal! I just don’t want to be a damned vegetable before I’ve had time to live. You’re already pushing me away with excuses, because you’re so terri
fied of Natalie’s ghost that you’ll never love another living, breathing woman. So go, leave me alone.” So she could cry and start wiping him out of her system.

  “Fine. I’ll turn on the alarm as I leave. I’ll remind you that there’s a real killer and arsonist in town.” He marched back to the front door, turning his back on her—as he had before.

  She stomped upstairs and out of sight of the most intoxicating man she’d ever known and would never know again. She hadn’t realized it was physically possible for a heart to break over a relationship that had never existed.

  Thirty

  Aaron stalked down the path to his house, whacking the bushes with his stick.

  Stop hovering.

  What the frigging hell did that mean? He was supposed to let her leap off tall buildings in a single bound when he knew she couldn’t fly? Hannah had an effing library in her brain, not superpowers. She had no business turning into a criminal because he—

  Harvey stepped onto the path in front of him, raising his walking stick as if it were a quarterstaff.

  Aaron contemplated swatting at him with his own staff and only stopped himself when he realized the ridiculousness of playing Robin Hood and Friar Tuck. He waited to see what the elusive musician wanted.

  “You’re sending off energy spikes so strong half the valley is shaking,” Harvey said. “Do I need to move the lamassu around you?”

  “Move the useless shit anywhere you like, but get out of my way.” Aaron poked his staff at Harvey’s lean chest.

  “You’re using good old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon. She must have done a number on you.” Harvey stepped aside. “While you may be vibrating out of control, my stick isn’t picking up as much evil as usual. I think the crystals in Daisy’s lamassu are working, absorbing Carmel’s bad energy.”