“Do you mean a gun?”
“That, or a cop. How about that cop that’s sweet on you?”
“No one is sweet on me,” I said, sounding more bitter than I would like, but I changed the subject quickly. “Peg, tell me something. Did you really try to kill Ned before? Back in the old days, I mean.”
She stopped dead. “Who told you that?”
“I have my sources too.”
She swore softly. “Okay, I served my time. I paid my debt to society. I’m an honorable person. But yes, I did try to kill the jerk. I had high emotions at the time.”
“I see.”
“But I never, ever tried to kill anyone else. Cross my heart, honey. I wouldn’t hurt a fly ordinarily.”
“Just when your emotions are high.”
“Right.”
“Got it.”
I promised to get back to her if I found out anything she could use. That didn’t make her very happy but it was the best I could do. I hung up and frowned, thinking about the captain. I didn’t know for sure but I had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to talk about suspects like that. Who else had he told that I was in his cross hairs? How on earth had that man become my enemy without me even noticing?
But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I looked in on Bebe and Gary. They were leaning close over their cups of coffee, talking earnestly, and I decided not to bother them with aimless conversation. I changed into a light wool pants suit, white and blue with kind of a nautical flare. A glance in the mirror told me it looked pretty good on me, and I got ready to head out to the Victorian Village where I was going to meet Lance for a tour through the houses.
But first I wanted to check on the silver cat. I hadn’t seen him all morning, though Sami was underfoot every time I walked from one room to another. I’d tried to keep Silver in since this was a strange house to him and I was hoping to get him used to it before I let him out—but I was afraid he’d gotten out anyway.
I slipped out the back door into the garden. Even in the middle of winter, Bebe had flowers and vegetables in raised beds all over, some covered with greenhouse structures, some out in the winter coolness on their own. It was like a maze of greenery, with a few blossoms here and there to brighten the scene, even while the skies were filled with fog and clouds. It was going to be a cool day.
I looked around. No cat. I really hoped he hadn’t gone far but I didn’t have time to look for him. Suddenly I noticed Aunty Jane walking between the rows, her straw hat set jauntily on her grey curls, her Hawaiian muumuu a splash of crimson color that couldn’t help but make you smile on this gray morning.
“Aunty Jane,” I called out. “Have you seen a silver cat? I brought him home two days ago and he’s missing.”
She stopped, looked back at me and got a frightened look on her face. I went around a tall greenhouse panel to meet her at the end of the row, but by the time I got there, she’d vanished like smoke.
I sighed. It was hardly surprising. She was pretty shy and she was a ghost, after all. I was just going to have to hope for the best where Silver was concerned.
The drive to Victorian Village was only about five minutes. I met Lance in the parking lot of a small neighborhood grocery store, just as we’d planned. He got out of his car and I got out of mine and he gazed meltingly at me as we met in the middle of the space between us.
“Mele,” he said. “You look lovely this morning.” For a second I thought he was going to kiss my hand, but he merely shook it with extra affection.
That gave me a bit of a start. I mean, this was really nice. He really liked me. Lance was a rich guy and he was definitely acting like he was interested. I’d never snagged myself a rich guy before. For just a moment, it was tempting to play into that and see how far I could get.
“Nice to see you too, Lance,” I said. “Thanks for agreeing to take me on this tour. I’m looking forward to meeting some of the tenants and seeing what they’ve cooked up for the pageant.”
He began giving me some tips on what to look for and who I’d want to talk to. I watched him talk and it occurred to me that there seemed to be a line of tension around his mouth that I hadn’t noticed before. His eyes looked blood-shot, with deep dark circles beneath them. It seemed Lance had just experienced a toss-and-turn sort of night. I wondered what was keeping him up late.
But he wasn’t letting it slow him down. He introduced me to a couple of the main movers and shakers in the community organization and we set up a plan to meet the day before the program started.
“You’ll definitely want to come to the dress rehearsal,” one of them a man named Jim Beed, told me heartily. “You’ll want to check out everything to make sure we’re on the right track.”
I thought it was generous of them to act like I really mattered to the show. After all, I was certainly Johnny-come-lately. They seemed to be a nice bunch of people.
The village was just as cute as it sounded. Most of the residents kept the homes up beautifully, even though they were only leasing. Most of the homes had the usual gingerbread trim, the wrap around porches, the beautiful windows, the turrets and multiple stairways. But they also had a good recent paint job, and often with bright colors that were almost startling to see. We walked the length of the row as Lance pointed out special qualities and houses where the people had gone the extra mile to produce something really exceptional.
Of course, each house was decorated for Christmas which made them even more fun to look at.
“Do people just do whatever they want?” I asked Lance.
“Oh no. Every January they submit plans that have to be approved by July 4. You’ll be intimately involved in that for next year I’m sure. Then they go to town on their places, each one vying with his neighbor to come up with the fanciest display. It’s rather like what it would be if regular people built the floats for the Rose Parade. Can you imagine?”
That made me laugh. A few people came out and waved at us, and we did go up and look into a few houses. Many had owners home, working on preparations. One middle-aged man was busy stringing lights in the leafless birch tree that stood in front of his house.
Lance introduced me.
“Mele, I’d like you to meet Tony Genera, our organization chairman.”
Tony came down off his ladder and shook my hand.
“Any relation to Ginny Genera?” I asked. “The marathon runner?”
He grinned. He had a handsome face and a pleasant manner. “Yes, she’s my sister. I run marathons too. In fact, I’m the one who got her started. I taught her everything she knows.”
“Really?” Come to think of it, he looked a bit like her. “I don’t see you running all over town like Ginny does.”
“I train at the Y. I wish Ginny would too. It’s dangerous out running on the public roads all day and night like she does.”
“Luckily, it’s a pretty peaceful town.”
“Maybe.” He looked doubtful and I had to admit, if just to myself, that there had been some pretty fishy things going on lately. “I’m really out of shape right now. I’m going to have to get back into it before Spring.”
“Good luck.”
We moved on, chatting with residents, looking over the decor. Finally, Lance led me to the front door of a house where we were going to take a closer look.
“I’ve already spoken to Ellie Chang and she said to bring you right in. She loves to show off her house. She lives here with her mother, Rose, who doesn’t speak much English, but Ellie will translate if she needs to.”
Ellie was about 35, bright and friendly and talked a mile a minute, while her mother stood aside and nodded, looking pleased and proud of her. They had every room in the house furnished with the Nineteenth Century in mind, though they were mostly modern versions of styles, not the real thing. Still, it was like stepping back into another century. I was truly enchanted.
We ended our tour in front of a door that was firmly closed against us.
“Sorry,” Ellie said with a shrug. “We actually rent
this room and our garage out to someone else. I didn’t ask him if he would mind, and the room isn’t decorated like the rest of the house anyway. In fact, it isn’t much more than storage space the way he uses it. He does sell so much, mostly on the internet.”
Lance’s phone rang and he looked at the tiny cell phone window. “It’s my mother,” he told me softly. “I’m going to have to go outside to take this.” And he left.
Lucky timing, because I was over the Victorians and definitely into the story behind the rented room. Could this really be where Bobby kept his supplies?
“Are you talking about that Australian surfer guy?” I asked her as soon as Lance was out of earshot. “Bobby?”
She smiled. “Oh, you know him. Yes, he’s been renting from us for about six months now.”
“Really?” How was I going to get in to see what his operation looked like? “Is he here right now?”
“Oh no. He’s hardly ever here. He has so many friends and contacts and so much work to do….”
“Oh.” I thought for a moment. “Is the door locked?”
Ellie looked startled. “I don’t know.”
I hesitated. “Do you mind…could I just take a peek? Really, I’m so interested in the architecture of this house and I’d like to see what the window looks out on. Is it the porch, or is there another structure….?”
I didn’t know what the heck I was talking about so I didn’t want to get too specific. Ellie looked concerned.
“Well,” she said. “I don’t suppose it would be too much to just let you look. I mean, I go in there all the time to clean and take in his packages, unless they’re very large. Those go into the garage.” She pulled out some keys. “Here. Just a quick look, now.”
I did just that, and there was a lot to see. The room was filled to the gills with boxes and display racks. There were t-shirts and teddy bears with banners proclaiming “Victorian Village Days!” and boxes of candies and simple toys—everything you would think a hustler like Bobby would be preparing for the pageant crowds.
“Thank you so much,” I said as I pulled back. “I see now.”
And Ellie closed the door and locked it just in time as Lance came back in.
“Everything okay?” I asked him brightly, and he nodded, but I could tell there was some problem that was going to be occupying his mind for awhile.
He had some things to talk to Ellie about so I skulked about, wishing I could get into the garage as well. I got close and even looked in through the dusty window, but it looked like a storage area again, with boxes stacked to the ceiling.
As I was coming back in, I passed a stack of magazines, obviously ready for the recycle bin, and on top was a flyer that seemed to be aimed at Victorian Village residents. I’d noticed the same flyer at other houses we’d looked at. Curious, I grabbed this one, folded it and put it into a pocket for later perusal. I had a feeling it had something to do with the offer to buy people out. Funny how Lance hadn’t told me anything about that.
There had been some talk of going to lunch, but Lance begged off without explaining his reasons very fully. But I forgave him. Maybe his mother wasn’t feeling well. And to tell you the truth, I was relieved. I had other things on my mind, too. As soon as I got back to my car, after waving to Lance, I pulled out the brochure I’d picked up at the Chang household and took a look. Sure enough, it was all about the benefits of handing over control to a development company named “Green Acres”. No specific numbers were listed, but they were sure implied. Want to get rich? Sell out to Green Acres. The first twenty to do so would get an extra bonus in the thousands. Who wouldn’t look twice? But who was behind it? I mulled these things over for awhile.
Then I called Bebe.
Chapter Seven
“Did Silver ever show up?” I asked her.
“No,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since right after we got back from the meeting last night.”
“Me too. Oh darn. I hope the little guy is okay.”
“I’m sure he is. He’s used to living on a cliff over the ocean with a forest for his backyard. I’m sure he knows how to handle himself.”
She was right, of course, but I wanted him home with us.
I looked at the time and wondered if I should call McKnight—whose name turned out to be Roy, by the way. Roy. Like Roy Rogers. The good guy who rode to the rescue. Yep. I sort of liked that.
Anyway—I thought about calling Roy to see about going over to get the parrot. But that made my shoulders sag. After all, if I couldn’t be trusted to keep a cat safe, how was I going to do with a parrot? And they could talk and tell people when you did a lousy job of taking care of them. What had I signed up for, anyway?
I closed my eyes and leaned back, thinking. I wasn’t ready to call him. I wanted some time to digest the phone call from Peg, the sight of Bobby’s hoard of stuff, the question of where Silver had gone, and the guns.
The guns! I’d let that one slip. Roy had said there were no guns once they cleared the house. How could that be? I’d seen plenty when I’d been there the day before. Something wasn’t quite right about that.
Okay, that was what I would do. I’d go out to Ned’s house, take a look around, see if I could get in and see the situation for myself. After all, Roy had used me as a source of information. I had an official orchid—not on me, but still. Hey, I was practically an honorary cop myself. There just might be something that the police had overlooked. Why not? It happened all the time.
In the meantime I’d stop by Jill’s coffee bar and have some lunch. That brightened my outlook. I swung by and parked outside, going in to find the clientele relatively sparse and Jill happy to see me.
“I know it’s a little early for lunch,” I said as I sat at the counter. “But you do have sandwiches, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She pointed out the display case. “What’s your pleasure? We’ve got barbecued meatball sliders, baked chicken flautas, Empanadas, chicken salad, ham and swiss on rye, paninis.”
“Oooh, those meatballs look delicious. I’ll try one of those. Just a small one, though.”
“Oh I know,” she said, teasing me. “A big one’s probably 600 calories. Take a small one and it will only be 550 calories.”
I gave her a pathetic look. “Did you really have to go and ruin everything?” I wailed. “Forget the meatballs. I’ll have an open faced watercress finger sandwich, hold the mayo.”
Her smile was smug. “We don’t make those here. Take the meatballs. You’ll thank me for it.”
I groaned, but we laughed and I took the meatball sandwich. It was heavenly. “This sauce is great,” I said as I devoured it. “What’s your secret ingredient?”
Jill leaned close and whispered. “Star anise. We got it from a Chinese recipe.”
I savored it. “Mmmm. The taste reminds me of something.” I frowned, trying to think, and then it came to me. “I know! Crack seed!”
Jill frowned at me. “Crack seed? What’s that?”
“Oh! You’ve never had crack seed? When I was a kid in Hawaii….” But I stopped myself. I said that too often. A wave of nostalgia swept over me. I saw a young girl, walking barefoot in the red dirt, chewing on a chopped off section of sugar cane and feeling the sun on my back. I was more homesick for the islands than I sometimes realized. Maybe it was time for me to go home.
But how could I do that? I’d been on the mainland for years now and my life was so entangled with these friends and family members here that I wasn’t sure I’d know what to do with myself in Hawaii anymore. But someday---someday.
“Crack seed,” I said, getting my focus back. “Okay, I think it was originally brought from China and called see moi. What it is is--plums fermented in spices-sort of half way between fruit and candy. Sometimes you get it with the seed broken open and that interior taste of the nut inside the seed gives it a really special quality. But even without that, you’ve got all kinds of see moi. As kids, we just called it crack seed and when we got some, we c
arried it around in little bags in our pockets and bit off little pieces all day long.” I laughed, remembering. “And when it was gone, we licked the packaging, because that taste was just too good to waste any of it.”
By now I realized I had a small audience, all listening as though I was giving a lecture on it. I felt my face get hot. “Sorry everyone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to take over the conversation here.”
They muttered and shrugged and began to drift away. Jill laughed at me. “Eat your sandwich,” she said. “And enjoy every calorie.”
Jill went off to help as the crowd was growing. I noticed someone slip in to sit beside me at the counter and when I turned and found Bobby grinning at me, I nearly dropped my lunch.
“Oh!” I said, brilliant conversationalist that I am.
“Hello sheila, remember me?” he said. We met last night at the association meeting.”
“I do remember you,” I said. “You’re the man with the big plans for the pageant.”
“Too right.”
“I was just in a house where you rent space today,” I told him, deciding to come right out with it. “Ellie and Rose Chang? I was surprised that you needed all that room for your supplies.”
“Are you kidding? I’m already busting at the seams at their place. And I only moved there six months ago when Nasty Ned got me kicked out of the storage locker I was renting closer in town. Now that Ned is no longer an issue, I’m hoping to get my locker back into operation. It’s a lot bigger and handier.”
I wiped my lips with a napkin and faced him. “So you really benefit from his death, don’t you? I don’t suppose you have a line on who did it? Maybe you ought to thank them.”
He looked at me as though he thought I was a bit cuckoo. “Just because it makes my life easier don’t mean I fancy a murder,” he said with a frown. “But the man made a nuisance of himself, a right tall poppy, and the tall poppies get the scythe.” He grinned at me, one eyebrow cocked. “And as to who did it, I lay that squarely at the feet of Lance Mansfield. That’s who.”
“Lance?” That set me on my heels. “What on earth makes you think he did it?”
Ghost On Duty (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Page 5
