Stolen Hearts

by Jane Tesh

  I was halfway around the back of the barrier when I found another likely-looking escape route. Ignoring the scratchy branches, I parted the leaves, pushed through, and found myself in a wooded area. The ground was covered with fallen leaves. No sense trying to find footprints, and I was pretty sure the police would’ve given this a thorough going over, so I walked on a little further. Just past the woods was another neighborhood, and right there, surrounded by a chain link fence, was a playground.

  Another playground. Great. And since it was Saturday afternoon, there were kids all over it.

  I took a deep breath and pushed away any memories of playing with Lindsey. I was on a case. I was going to solve a mystery. I could try all I liked, but I couldn’t spend the rest of my life avoiding children. They weren’t supposed to talk to strangers anyway.

  Most of the kids were playing basketball with some teenagers and completely ignored me. The smaller children were on the swings, screaming about who could go the highest, and on the sliding board, screaming about whose turn it was. I strolled around to the sidewalk trying not to look creepy. Trash had collected along the bottom of the fence, and the wind had blown scraps of plastic and paper into the links. Strange marks on one curl of paper caught my attention. I pulled the paper free and straightened it out. I saw the little wormy tracks Horatio Bennett considered music and the words “Tranquil Breeze.” This must be a piece of the missing pages torn from Bennett’s notebook. I looked around, hoping to find more. A tiny round object looked up from the trash—and when I say looked up, that’s exactly what it did. I reached down and picked up the small plastic eye. The little black bead rolled around in the clear plastic shell. Well, with all these kids here, this eye must have fallen off one of their toys. But I had the feeling I’d seen something like this before.

  I put the paper and the little eye in my pocket. The kids were still screaming at each other, but a few had stopped swinging and were regarding me suspiciously. I gave them a friendly wave and walked back the way I’d come. In the safety of the Fury, I took out the toy eye and examined it. Now I remembered where I’d seen little plastic eyes like this.

  On Melanie Gentry’s sweater.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “The Lovers’ Quarrel”

  I thought I’d had enough drama and excitement for one day, but when I got home, I found the Psychic Service Network van parked out front. A cameraman and a sound technician stood at the open back of the van, talking and looking bored. Camden and Ellin were going at it from opposite ends of the dining room table. I wasn’t surprised that the topic of choice for the day was our old dead pal Ashford. Camden had the back of a chair in a white-knuckle grip.

  “What does he say? What does he do?”

  Ellin hesitated. “He’s just more…forceful.”

  “And you like that? I thought you always told me you didn’t care for the Cro-Magnon stuff.”

  “I don’t. I’m trying to explain. You asked me how he was different, and I’m telling you. He just takes over. He’s pushy, obnoxious, demanding—”

  “Exciting. You like this guy, don’t you?”

  “No! I hate him.” She actually sounded sincere for a moment. Then Ellin the Producer took over. “But I can’t deny I find this whole experience fascinating. You would, too, if you could remember any of it. Despite his faults, Ashford is an interesting man, and I think he’s the victim here.”

  “You think Laura destroyed his career.”

  “I think there are two sides to every story. He deserves to be heard.”

  “I deserve to be heard, too.” He let go of the chair and came to her. “I’m losing whole chunks of my life while this interloper makes time with my woman. Or is that too prehistoric a concept for you, ‘my woman’? No, wait, I forgot, you like that kind of forceful talk.”

  “Cam. Stop it.”

  “It doesn’t sound like I have much choice.”

  “I can’t believe you’re jealous of a ghost.”

  He gave her a searching look. “Don’t you want me to be?” His voice was much quieter. “I’m jealous of anyone, dead or alive, who wants to spend time with you. Don’t you know that?”

  Why couldn’t she say she loved him? She’s the hardest woman I’ve ever known, and I’ve known some boulders. Silence stretched until she finally spoke.

  “There’s no need to be jealous. I want Ashford to resolve his problems and leave. Why don’t you let him come on the show? He’d reach a huge audience, and someone might be able to help him.”

  Wrong answer. Something along the lines of “I love you, don’t worry, we’ll work this out,” might have been nice. Way too much to ask.

  Another long pause. “It’s not a question of ‘let,’” Camden said. “I don’t have any control over him.”

  “Tell Randall to keep out of this,” she said. “Ashford can tell his story and then he’d leave. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “You can’t tell me Randall isn’t using this experience for his own gain. Doesn’t he talk to Ashford, get clues about this case of his?”

  Camden had decided to go stubborn on her. “I suppose so. I don’t remember.”

  “Of course he does. He’s right here in the house. If Ashford is helping him solve this case, then he can certainly come on the show.”

  Camden had had enough. “Okay. Fine. I’m not even involved. Ashford’s just using me so he can walk around. You and Randall do what you want.”

  He went out to the porch, passing me without a glance. I wandered into the dining room, figuring Ellin would attack, and she did.

  “What do you mean by sneaking up like that? I’ll bet you heard everything.”

  “I sure did. I overhear all your conversations.” I went to the fridge for a cola. “One of these days, you’re going to push too hard.”

  She followed me. “It’s none of your business. This possession thing with Ashford is bizarre. It’s scary having Cam like this.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet it’s a real turn-on.”

  “Damn it, Randall! That’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. All of a sudden, Camden’s in charge. He makes the moves, starts the action. You’ve got yourself a real macho man.”

  “And I told Cam I don’t like that. I like him the way he is. He has this absurd idea I’m enamored of Ashford. My God, Ashford’s dead! He’s been dead for years! Cam must be crazy.”

  “He is. He’s crazy to love a woman who doesn’t love him.” Wait a minute. That didn’t sound right. Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?

  Ellin’s jaw dropped. “Doesn’t love him? Of course I love him! I always have.”

  “You sure have weird ways of showing it.”

  “Stay out of it.”

  “Was Ashford just here? Didn’t you get what you wanted?”

  “No, he wasn’t here. The crew and I have been waiting around all day.”

  “Then maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Well, I certainly don’t want to talk to you.” She stalked out.

  I went to the front porch. Camden was sitting on the porch swing. We watched as the men got into the van, Ellin got into her car, and both vehicles drove away. He gave me a weary look. “Don’t say anything.”

  I took a seat in one of the rocking chairs. “Isn’t it about time you found a new girlfriend?”

  “Maybe I should go to the community college with Kary and take Caveman 101.”

  “Can you reach Ashford in any way? Can you recall anything of his visits?”

  “No. Are you any closer to solving this case?”

  “I’m happy to say I have some clues. Have a look at this.” I handed him the little plastic eye. “I found this in the woods behind Bennett’s house.”

  “It’s an eye.”r />
  “Yep. Just like the ones on Melanie’s farm animal sweater.”

  He held it a few moments longer. “Yes, it is.” He handed the eye back to me. “Why would Melanie be in the woods behind Bennett’s house?”

  “Here’s something else.” I took out the piece of paper. “Torn from Bennett’s notebook, if I’m not mistaken. Those are his goofy little marks.”

  Camden read the title. “‘Tranquil Breeze.’”

  “Must have been a song he was writing. You remember you warned me about giving Lassiter’s notebook to Melanie or to anyone else?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know why.”

  “I don’t know why anyone would want either notebook, but if Melanie’s after Bennett’s, too, there must be some connection.”

  “You think Melanie’s the culprit?”

  “I don’t know.” I sat brooding on the eye for a while until Camden spoke.

  “You didn’t scare Kary off. She’s just confused.”

  “Been confiding in you, too, huh?”

  “No, I managed to get a few impressions. I haven’t been picking up very much lately, thanks to Ashford.”

  “Coming back from Lassiter’s, I had to say something.” I looked out across the yard. “I know exactly how Ashford felt about Laura. She was younger than he was, too. Of course, back then, it wasn’t such a big deal.” I glanced at him. “What do you mean by confused? I can tell she has feelings for me.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “What makes her think Donnie’s a better choice? Is it the age difference?”

  “She just needs some time.”

  “Yeah, by the time she figures things out, she’ll be pregnant with Donnie, Junior.”

  He stopped swinging and gave me one of his looks. “No.”

  He said this so seriously, I had to take a moment before saying anything else. “No, she won’t get married, or no, she won’t get pregnant?”

  “I’ll let Kary tell you that, when and if she’s ready.”

  “So there is a chance?” I leaned forward for a better look into his eyes. “This isn’t Ashford jerking me around, is it?”

  “No, this is me jerking you around.” I gave his shoulder a punch and he grinned. “Randall, I can’t see things too clearly right now, but yes, there is a chance.”

  “And there’s a chance she’ll marry Donnie.”

  “At least your competition is alive.”

  A roar of dual exhausts shook more leaves from the trees, and Rufus’ Bigfoot truck pulled up in the drive. Rufus hopped out and hurried around to open the door for Angie. The truck sighed in relief as she exited.

  “Well, somebody got lucky,” I remarked to Camden before the happy couple were in earshot.

  I wasn’t sure both of them could fit up the front steps, but they did.

  Rufus took off his cap to scratch his scraggly hair. “Owe you an apology, Randall.”

  “What for?”

  “This morning, that son of a bitch Ashford called me a pea-brained hick and a rural moron. I can see why you wanted to pop him one.”

  I indicated Camden. “And you see why I can’t.”

  “Sorry, Rufe,” Camden said.

  Rufus offered Angie a rocking chair, but she wisely decided she wouldn’t fit and chose the porch steps. He sat down beside her. “We gotta get rid of that bastard, Cam. You need an exorcism or something. Doesn’t that girlfriend of yours know how to do that?”

  “No,” he said. “In fact, she likes Ashford.”

  Rufus rolled his eyes at me. “This is too weird.”

  “This kind of thing happen often around here?” Angie wanted to know.

  “More than we like,” I said.

  Rufus ground one large fist into his palm. “Maybe I could smack him out.”

  “I wish you could.” Camden changed the subject. “How are things coming along for the festival?”

  “We’re about ready,” Rufus said. “Buddy’s got a pile of carvings done, and Angie said she’d help man the booth. You want to spell somebody a few hours?”

  “Sure, if it doesn’t interfere with Ashford’s schedule.”

  Rufus turned to me. “How ‘bout you, Randall?”

  “Let me get this case solved first.”

  “Is that what it’s going to take to get rid of Ashford?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What have you got so far?”

  “A notebook of old songs and a plastic eyeball.”

  Kary was next to arrive wearing a slim corduroy skirt and print blouse, her arms full of books, her blonde hair swinging free.

  “Looks like a house meeting,” she said with a smile. “Angie, I brought those patterns.”

  “Great.” Angie heaved herself up. “Let’s spread everything out on the dining room table and see what we’ve got.”

  “Patterns?” Rufus said.

  “Dress patterns,” Kary said. “Angie said she’d help modify one of my pageant gowns.”

  Rufus looked at his ladylove with growing respect. “You sew, too?”

  “Hey, when you’re my size, you have to. I’ll make you a shirt some time, big boy.” She ambled into the house, and Kary followed, avoiding eye contact with me.

  Damn. I knew I shouldn’t have declared myself. Now she was going to be nervous around me. Camden tried to be encouraging.

  “Don’t worry. She’ll help you.”

  Rufus smirked. “Randall needs a gown modified, too?”

  “He needs a favor from Kary,” Camden said.

  “That ain’t all he needs.”

  “A favor,” Camden said, as if he’d just thought of something. “I’ve got to get those crystals back to Lily. Where are they?”

  “You already did that,” I said.

  “Are you sure? I’d better check.”

  Camden went inside. Rufus watched him go, his low brow furrowed. “Not like him to forget.”

  “He hasn’t been himself.” It occurred to me that Rufus, with his vast knowledge of Parkland family trees, might have a clue about Camden’s. “You know anything about his family?”

  Rufus dug into the back pocket of his jeans for a round can of chewing tobacco. “Nope. Never says nothing about them.”

  “Thought you might have heard something.”

  “He grew up in some boys’ home, that’s all I know.” He scooped out a wad and stuffed it in his mouth. “Who’s asking?”

  “Something Lily said to me the other day. Her Tarot cards tell her Camden’s going through an identity crisis.”

  Rufus spoke around the bulge in his cheek. “She got that right.”

  “I don’t think she meant possession.”

  “Well, hell, ask him. Ask her.”

  Camden came back, looking confused. “You were right.”

  “And they were all safe. No demon crystal from hell.”

  Rufus and I exchanged a glance. “Come on,” Rufus said. “Buddy brought a new supply of pumpkins you need to see. They’re out back.”

  While Rufus and Camden checked out the pumpkins, I wandered in to watch the girls’ sewing club. Kary’s white evening gown lay across the table, bits of light brown tissue pinned here and there. Angie, her mouth full of pins, moved the tissue and frowned and moved it again while Kary watched, occasionally consulting a book of dress designs. They were deeply involved in this task, so I had the opportunity to study Kary and plan my next move.

  I wouldn’t declare myself any more. I wouldn’t even hint at it. I’d just ask for a favor, remind her of her promise to tape the songs for Lassiter.

  Angie removed the last pin from her mouth. “This is going to work. Won’t take me long.”

  “Thanks, Angie,” Kary said. “I really appre
ciate it.”

  She shrugged one massive shoulder. “It’ll give me something to do while I’m between jobs.” She sat down at the table and picked up the scissors.

  “Kary, if you’ve got time, would you record a few numbers for Mister Lassiter?”

  Relief crossed her face. Did she think I was going to proclaim my undying love in front of Angie? Well, no telling what she thought I’d do. “All right.”

  I sat down in the blue armchair in the island and recorded the songs as she played. After a while, all the tunes ran together. I was getting sick and tired of all this minor stuff. I was going to have to get a boxed set of Sousa marches for an antidote.

  But the songs had a different effect on our unwanted houseguest, Ashford. Kary was halfway through “Two Hearts Singing” when Ashford came in, followed by a wide-eyed Rufus.

  “He just slipped in,” he said to me.

  “Yeah, I can tell.”

  Ashford went to the piano and stood there, transfixed. Then he began to sing.

  Early one morning

  Heard my heart singing,

  Heard your heart singing,

  Answering my own.

  Come let me love you,

  Come be my lady,

  Come to my arms, love,

  Here is your home.

  The sad, sweet melody sounded even better when Camden’s voice sang the words. Angie stopped sewing. Rufus looked from me to Camden.

  “Damn, that’s pretty.”

  When Kary came to the end, Ashford said, “Play it again, if you please, young lady.” I’d never heard him speak so politely.

  Kary hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Ashford, so she assumed it was Camden. She started the song again. This time, Ashford listened and then came to me, his eyes bright and hard.

  “This is my music, Randall. It came from my soul. You have to see that. This Melanie Gentry does not have any claim to it.”

  Kary stared at him. “Cam? What are you talking about?”

  Ashford swung around. “I am not Cam, young lady. I am John Burrows Ashford. This music you play so beautifully was written by me and stolen, along with my heart. I loved a young woman much like yourself. She wrote some music, but not this song. A few little tunes. She showed promise, but she was undisciplined. And now her unscrupulous relative schemes to defile my name.”