Grace in Hollywood: A Grace Michelle Mystery

by Kari Bovee

  Timothy placed his hands on his hips, apparently speechless, which was a rare thing indeed.

  “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, dear.” Florence took her fox stole from Mr. Johnson and wrapped it around her shoulders. “We can go over the new schedule and any adjustments that need to be made for James here. Oh, and—” she turned her full attention to me and narrowed her eyes “—we’ll need to make some alterations to my costumes. I’ve lost some weight due to my grief. James will need to be fitted, too, of course. Come, James. I’m suddenly feeling a little tired.”

  Throwing the fox head dramatically over her shoulder, she and Mr. Johnson left the set.

  “Bollocks!” Timothy said, running his hand across the stubble on his chin.

  “What’s going on?” Felicity asked.

  I gave her the rundown.

  “And that Johnson fellow is a sap, i’nt he?” Timothy said. He looked over at the set. “Now where in the hell did Helen go?” He took off to find her, surely to smooth things over.

  “What a mess,” Felicity said, watching him go.

  “You’re not kidding,” I agreed. “Have Florence and Mr. Johnson always carried on like that? Like best friends, like, well, lovers?” Perhaps Mr. Smith had been wrong about him.

  Felicity snorted. “Yeah, but I try to mind my own business.”

  “What did Mr. Travis think?” I wondered out loud.

  Felicity placed her hands in her dress pockets. “From what I could tell, he didn’t care. But if he did, he didn’t do anything about it.”

  So maybe they were just friends.

  “Felicity!” Timothy called to her from across the set. “I need a word.”

  “Guess I’d better go,” she said. “Oh, I almost forgot. Remember how I said you might benefit from a reading with Lenora Lange? Well, I’ve set one up for you. Can you come to the mansion after shooting tomorrow evening?”

  I had completely forgotten about Felicity’s suggestion I consult with the medium about my unresolved issues with Sophia and my mother. “Um, sure, I guess. If we are shooting tomorrow.” Would there be more delays as Timothy worked out the issues between Helen and Florence? “I’ll have to check with Chet and the kids to see if I’m needed at the ranch first, though.”

  “Ah, speak of the devil.” Felicity nodded over my shoulder.

  Chet walked toward me with purpose, wrapped his arms around me, and spun me in a circle. I squeaked in surprise. It wasn’t like Chet to visit me at work, and it certainly wasn’t like him to behave so demonstratively in public. He was usually so reserved and stoic. He set me down but didn’t let go of me.

  “Looks like someone’s happy to see you.” Felicity winked at me. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Remember how I said I was going to pay a visit to Travis’s estate lawyer?” He released my waist and put his hands on his hips, smiling at me.

  “Yes. It went well I take it?” I was still surprised at his enthusiasm.

  “Turns out he’s a pretty small operation. Just him, a secretary, and an errand boy. He and Travis met before Travis was worth anything. Anyway, they are in over their heads with finding this mystery heir and keeping up with their other clients.”

  I frowned, confused. “Well that doesn’t sound good.”

  “But it is,” he said. “Since we are both looking for Travis’s heir, he’s offered to hire me.”

  “You’re kidding,” I said, still not quite believing this turn of events.

  Chet shook his head. “No, I’m not, Grace. This way, I’ll have more clout to investigate. And I’ll get paid. Although, not a lot. But I’ll be helping you, Lizzy, and Daniel. For me, that’s enough.”

  I smiled up at him. “You really are the cat’s pajamas, Chet Riker.”

  “Oh, and there is something else. I did some nosing around at the police station after I left the lawyer’s office. Detective Walton is less than five weeks away from retirement, but because he botched his last couple of cases, the Chief is threatening to fire him if he doesn’t make good on the Travis case—and fast. If he’s fired, he won’t get his pension.”

  I sucked in a breath, indignation coursing through me. “That’s why he’s so eager to charge Lizzy and Daniel with the murders of both Margaret and Mr. Travis. He’s got a bird in the hand—well, two birds!”

  “Exactly,” Chet agreed. “Unfortunately, until he has evidence to prove otherwise, he’s got enough to go on.”

  I slammed my fists onto my hips. “Well we’ll just have to find that evidence, then.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Early the following morning I received a phone call from Timothy. He was halting production until he could get the situation with Florence and Helen figured out. Neither of the parties were being cooperative. In fact, they were acting like temperamental, narcissistic movie stars. No surprise there. I wasn’t sure we were ever going to get this picture made. Timothy said the studio bosses wanted both actresses in the film and told him he needed to work it out between them. I didn’t envy his dilemma.

  When I asked him about Mr. Johnson, he simply replied, “Don’t ask,” so I didn’t know the status of his being in the film.

  Felicity also called to make sure I’d heard from Timothy, and added that since filming was halted for the time being, she could arrange to have Miss Lange do my reading earlier than planned, at 4:00 p.m. as she was going to be at the mansion anyway to do another reading with Florence. I wondered if she’d gotten any results in her attempts to communicate with her late husband.

  I met Chet in the kitchen for breakfast. He had mentioned he would be getting up even earlier than usual to take care of things in the barn and confer with Joe on the new horse before starting his investigation into Mr. Travis’s mystery heir.

  After pouring our coffee, Rose brought Chet his preferred breakfast of bacon, eggs, and potatoes. I opted for some of Rose’s freshly baked toasted bread with butter and jam.

  The comfort-inducing aromas filled the kitchen, fortifying me with a sense of hope. “I think I’ll go to the jail today to see Lizzy and Daniel. They must be feeling so forlorn.” I bit off a corner of my slice of bread. “Rose, would you mind preparing a couple of baskets of food for them?”

  She didn’t answer but gave me a nod. I took another bite and turned to Chet, who was tucking in to his breakfast.

  “How do you propose we start to find this person?” I asked, eager to get on with the mission at hand.

  Chet waited until he swallowed his food before answering. “I’d like to start at the mansion, but I’m not sure Miss Thomas will allow it. I’m sure she doesn’t want Travis’s heir found. At least I wouldn’t if I were her.”

  “Right. Well, Felicity can probably get you in. She’s still working at the mansion. Actually, I am going over there at four o’clock this afternoon. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Sure. What are you going there for?” Chet popped the last of his bacon in his mouth.

  “Um . . .” I hesitated. I didn’t want to tell him why I was really going. I wasn’t sure how I even felt about it, so I wasn’t ready to share it with him just yet. “Felicity wanted to get my opinion on some upholstery fabrics.”

  “All right. I’ll go down to the city records office today and see if I can find anything more there. Redmond’s secretary got a start on it but didn’t make much progress. Meet you back here at three?”

  “Perfect.” I raised my coffee cup to my lips and reveled in the aroma tickling my nose.

  He got up from the table, kissed me on the cheek, and took a piece of toast with him out the door. I sat in silence eating the rest of my toast and sipping my coffee as Rose bustled around in the kitchen preparing baskets for Lizzy and Daniel.

  I didn’t have much energy due to the fact that I barely had slept again. I’d have to have another cup of coffee if I wanted to get anything accomplished during the day.

  When I had gone to bed last night, I h
ad lain there staring into the darkness, unable to turn off my thoughts. Truth be told, I hadn’t relished the idea of falling asleep only to be awakened by more disturbing dreams. I hoped Felicity was right and I could get some kind of relief from Miss Lange. If not, at this rate, I’d have to visit my doctor to get a sleeping medication. The prospect filled me with dread. My sister had been hopelessly addicted to sleeping pills and hadn’t been able to function without them. She had barely functioned with them in the end. But I had to find a way to sleep or it would kill me—literally.

  The visitors’ room at the city jail was a sparse chamber and smelled of mildew. Only a table and two chairs at the opposite ends of the table. A dirty glass window cast dim, yellow light into the room. There was a door by which the visitors entered, and another door for the inmates. I was told I could see Lizzy for a few minutes only, but I couldn’t see Daniel at all that day. I’d have to come back again. My heart deflated.

  When Lizzy was brought into the visiting area, I was aghast. She had a black eye, and her right cheek was red and swollen. “My god, what happened?” I asked, a lump forming in my throat.

  Lizzy looked at me, despondence in her eyes. “There are three other women in the cell with me—there are only a few cells back there—and I made the mistake of sitting on someone else’s cot.”

  “Heavens! Was something done about this?”

  She shrugged, her eyes filling with tears. “Someone paid for her bail, so she’s gone.”

  My heart was breaking in two. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

  Her face crumpled, and she shook her head in dismay. “Grace, I want to go home. It’s filthy here. The only time I get any peace at all is when they let us sit in the yard for an hour or so each day.”

  I gritted my teeth, angry at the appalling conditions. “Have they assigned you a lawyer yet?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been told I have one, but I’ve yet to see him. I take it you can’t afford the bail? I know it’s a lot of money . . .”

  My anger quickly dissipated to guilt and sorrow, making my whole chest hurt. “We are doing everything we can to get you out of here. We are trying to find proof that you are innocent of these crimes,” was all I managed to say.

  After a thorough check, the guard permitted her to take my basket of food. I imagined she would be under pressure to share it with her cell mates, but perhaps it would soften them toward her a little.

  “What about Daniel? What’s going to happen to him? He looks awful, Grace. I saw him from a distance in the yard. I’m worried about him.”

  I smiled at her tender concern for him. “We’re helping him, too, Lizzy. Try not to worry.”

  When we parted, I longed to rail against the guard, telling him it wasn’t fair that she was here, or Daniel. I wanted to grab hold of Lizzy and flee, but I knew neither scenario would benefit her or even work.

  After I left, I ran a few errands in town before going home for lunch. I spent the hour visiting with Susie and Ida, who were both anxious to hear about Lizzy and Daniel. I tried to keep my voice cheerful as I explained that Lizzy seemed well but that I had not been able to visit Daniel. I sent them off to do their homework and chores feeling like a hypocrite at not revealing my own worry and anxiety, but why bring them down, too? They were just children, and as their guardian, it was my job to protect them.

  As he had promised, Chet met me at home at 3:00 p.m., and we headed over to the mansion. The afternoon had a lazy feel to it with the warmth of the sun radiating through the open car window, and the cool marine breeze swirled around the loose waves of my hair. Despite my worries, I fought off sleepiness.

  “Did you have any luck with the city records?” I asked as we drove down the lane.

  “I found nothing pertaining to an Elsa Mayfield or a Greta Mayfield.”

  A wave of disappointment coursed through me. “Obviously they’re not from here, then. Mr. Travis is from England. Perhaps they are there, as well?”

  Chet let out a whistle. “I hope not. That’s going to make them a lot harder to find.”

  “I wonder if Pearl Davis knew them. She didn’t seem surprised to hear about them at the reading of the will. Maybe they live in New York?”

  “Could be,” he said. “Let’s hope we can find them here in California, though.”

  I had called ahead telling Felicity that I was bringing Chet. I explained to her he’d been hired by the lawyer on behalf of the estate to find the Mayfield women. She suggested we park in front of the mansion, and she would meet us there.

  We rang the bell, and she greeted us at the door.

  “Is Miss Thomas about?” Chet asked. “I’d like to ask her a few questions.”

  “No,” Felicity said. “She and James just left.”

  “Probably just as well,” he said. “It will give me a chance to look around without putting her nose out of joint.”

  We walked into the expansive entry. The grand foyer had black-and-white-checkered flooring, much like the kitchen, with a double wooden staircase lined with black railings that soared to the second-floor landing. The white walls on the lower floor were adorned with black furniture, and a large, glittering crystal chandelier cast elegant rainbows across the walls.

  “Wow!” Chet said. “Did you do all this Felicity?”

  She closed the door behind us. “No. This is one part of the house Mr. Travis wanted to leave the same. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. So where do you suppose Mr. Travis keeps his files?” Chet was through with idle chitchat and wanted to get down to business and quickly.

  “That would be in his study. I’ll show you.” Felicity led us up one of the staircases to the second-floor landing. From there, we took a left turn and walked down a wide hallway furnished with plush and expensive-looking rugs. At the end of the hallway, she opened a door to the right, and we entered a very masculine room with a heavy, paneled wooden desk. A window behind the desk provided enough light to balance the darkness of the furnishings. The room smelled faintly of cigar smoke or pipe smoke, I couldn’t be sure which. It was as if Mr. Travis had just been sitting in his office moments before we arrived.

  A glass-doored barrister’s bookcase lined one wall, and a heavy walnut credenza furnished with picture frames lined another. One of the frames caught my eye, and I walked over to it. The photo was of a young Florence Thomas on a beautiful thoroughbred, but what really captured my attention was the frame. It was gold, depicting a charming garden scene with a Greek-style colonnade with a vine growing up the side of it. Above the scene was a bird in flight—a swallow.

  My breath caught. I’d seen this before. It had been in one of my dreams. Marveling at it, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands.

  “Great photo of Florence, isn’t it?” Felicity asked.

  “Yes,” I said absently. How could this have been in my dream? I had never seen it before in my life.

  Chet sat down in the leather chair behind the desk and started to go through the drawers. The deep sound of a bell rang from downstairs.

  “Is that the doorbell?” I asked.

  “Ah, yes. That will be Lenora.”

  “Oh. Of course.” I sat the frame back down on the credenza. “I’d like to say hello to her.”

  Felicity looked at me incredulously. I shook my head at her and tilted my head toward Chet, who was so absorbed in his task he wasn’t even paying attention to us.

  Oh, she mouthed at me. “We’ll be in the drawing room downstairs, Chet,” Felicity then said aloud.

  He nodded, and Felicity led me out of the study. I was so caught up with the image of the photo frame in my mind, I followed her like a zombie, down the stairs and to the front door. She opened it, and there stood Lenora Lange, dressed in her customary silver and white. Felicity ushered her into the house.

  Miss Lange greeted me with an outstretched hand, and when I took it, we locked eyes.

  “You’ve seen something,” she said. An icy chill radiated from her palm into mine
. I didn’t know how to respond, for I wasn’t sure what was even happening. Could it be the photo frame or was she speaking of something else? She truly was the strangest creature I’d ever encountered.

  Felicity led us to the parlor. It, like many of the other rooms in the manse, was gorgeous, steeped in European luxury. Felicity had really outdone herself. The room was beautifully decorated with pale-yellow walls, white trim, and intricately carved white moldings along the edges of the ceiling.

  “Can I bring you something to drink?” she asked. “Tea perhaps?”

  “None for me.” I was nervous about this whole thing. Miss Lange’s mere presence unsettled me, let alone anything that came out of her mouth.

  “I’m fine, as well.” Miss Lange settled herself in one of the French mahogany parlor chairs upholstered in a lush, green brocade fabric. I opted for the matching love seat opposite her. We were separated by a gold-footed tea table. I waited for Felicity to take a seat, but she remained standing.

  “I will leave you two alone.” She turned to go.

  “Wait. Won’t you stay?” I was feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment and wanted the emotional support of my friend.

  “It is best if she goes.” Miss Lange rested her hands on the arms of the chair. “We do not want any interference from souls connected to her. They could overpower the souls connected to you, and then you will not get a clear reading.”

  I swallowed. “Oh. I see.”

  Felicity gave me a reassuring smile. “I’ll be in the great room getting some measurements.” And then she left.

  “Shall we begin?” Miss Lange asked once we were alone.

  I nodded. Despite the sudden cold sensation that had still not left my right palm at Miss Lange’s touch—and that had transferred itself to my left, as well— perspiration bloomed on both palms, and I clasped them together.

  “Yes, yes, I understand.” Her eyes shifted to her right, and she nodded at something in the corner of the room.