Ray pursed his lips into the frown he so often wore. “It broke Elaine’s heart when Lana ran away—and right on top of Jim’s death. Whatever Lana’s problem was, Elaine would have understood. She would have helped her or forgiven her or whatever Lana needed.”
“Forgiven? Did Lana do something that needed forgiving?”
“I have no idea. And now Elaine will never know either.”
Ray seemed close to slipping back into his gloomy funk. I cast about for a change in subject. The dog provided one when he came up to sniff my shoes. I patted the top of his head. “Barney sure is friendly. I noticed the yard here isn’t fenced in. Aren’t you worried he’ll run away?”
“Nah. He has the run of the place. He always comes back. He’s a loyal pup.”
As if he understood, Barney returned to Ray and settled down on top of his feet. Ray chuckled, then took on a thoughtful look. “I’m sure Elaine never stopped loving her granddaughter. I believe she still remembered Lana in her will. But she didn’t leave her everything. She’d made up her mind about that a long time ago. That new will has to be found. You have to make sure Elaine’s real wishes are honored.”
“I’m working on it.” I glanced around the studio again. “Did Elaine ever come out here?”
“Not often. I don’t like to show my works in progress, and she respected that.”
From the look of things, he had a lot of “works in progress.” I thought again how tenuous his position was. If Lana came back to claim her inheritance, he could lose it all. I recalled Elaine wrote that she’d teased Ray about charging him rent—and that he didn’t find it funny. His entire livelihood and lifestyle depended on Elaine’s generosity. That must have been on his mind as Elaine’s illness returned and she talked about making a new will.
Now that I thought about it, if Elaine was murdered, Ray should be a prime suspect. He was in charge of Elaine’s medication. He admitted he brought her nightly cup of milk on the night she died. And he’d found her body. He could argue that it would be crazy to bite the hand that fed him. But if he believed he was slated to receive a generous inheritance, and she was already suffering from a terminal illness, might he have wanted to speed up the process before she could change her mind?
“Ray, what did you think of Detective Rhinehardt’s questioning yesterday? Do you think there could be something to Dr. Lamb’s concerns?”
“I think it’s nonsense. People always want to blame somebody when someone dies suddenly. Families blame doctors. Friends blame the family. People point the finger when they feel guilty themselves. Dr. Lamb felt bad he went on a cruise just when Elaine was taking a turn for the worse. He wants to find someone else to blame. Simple as that.”
“Hmm. Maybe. I can’t help wondering, though . . . What happened to Elaine’s pain medication? The coroner made a list of all the medicines in Elaine’s bathroom medicine cabinet. Her new painkillers weren’t there.”
Something shifted in Ray’s expression, and his bearing turned hard again. “I told you Elaine was stubborn. She didn’t always follow my instructions. I helped her organize her pills each month, but she took them on her own. And she didn’t like those new pills. Didn’t like the way they made her feel. She complained about it all the time. She didn’t want them in her daily pill organizer. She probably threw them away.”
I nodded. It was a plausible explanation. But I was more interested in Ray’s reaction to the question than his answer. He seemed excessively defensive to me. He had just given me a speech about how people shift the blame when they feel guilty, and here he was doing the same thing. Did he feel guilty because he was Elaine’s nurse and should have kept better track of her meds?
Or did he feel guilty for another reason entirely?
* * *
After leaving Ray’s place, I explored more of the gardens, taking a walk through the Zen maze and pausing at an old sundial to try to figure out the time. As attuned to nature as I was, sundials were still a mystery to me. I found it was much easier to look at the sky and notice the position of the sun. Given how high it was, I guessed it was somewhere around noon. Based on the emptiness in my stomach, I guessed it was more likely sometime past noon.
Before heading inside, though, I wanted to find Perry’s guest cottage. I figured it couldn’t be far. Sure enough, I soon caught sight of a well-worn footpath that led to the second guesthouse, a twin of Ray’s. Crenshaw said Perry had gone to the museum, and it appeared he was still gone. When I knocked on the door, there was no answer. Trying not to appear too nosy, I strolled around the cottage—looking for what, I had no clue. Through an open curtain, I caught a glimpse of a tidy living room. The only evidence of occupancy was a soda can on an end table and a stack of magazines fanned across a coffee table. From what I could see, they seemed to be art and travel magazines, and maybe an antique car magazine or two. Nothing suspicious there.
At this point, my hunger was overtaking my desire to be outside, so I headed back toward the house. Crenshaw had given me the security codes before I’d left, so I thought I’d try the side door. I had made it to the kitchen garden when I stopped, overcome with a strange, exposed feeling. I felt like I was being watched.
Slowly, I peered over my shoulder. No one was there. I scanned the trees and nearby gardens, tuning in my ears as well as my eyes. I thought about how Crenshaw and I had stood at the third-floor window the day before. Looking up at the house now, I was somewhat startled at the number of windows facing the grounds. They were all dark, opaque with the reflected sun. Anybody could be watching. With a slight shiver, I jogged to the door, out of sight of prying eyes.
Chapter Sixteen
I found Celia baking a cake in the kitchen. I tried to engage her in light conversation, but she would have none of it. She thrust a covered platter into my hands and practically pushed me into the dining room. I sat down at the long, empty table and lifted the lid. On the plate was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cut into two triangles, and a serving of potato chips. And they were delicious. I was halfway through the first half of my sandwich, when Celia bustled in bearing a pitcher of lemon water and a tall glass.
“Celia, I really appreciate this,” I said. “It’s great. But you don’t have to keep serving me. I can—”
One look at her hurt expression, and my words died in my throat. “I mean . . . never mind. This is so nice. I feel like I’m on vacation.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and went to gather up a glass someone else had left at the end of the table. Before she left, I decided to try one more time to get her to talk.
“Celia, do you know where Elaine kept her important papers? Some things seem to be missing.”
She looked at me like I must be dense. “She kept papers in her desk and filing cabinets. I don’t know any other place.” She swiveled on her feet, but I stopped her again.
“Celia, one more quick question. Did you know Lana very well?”
Now she looked startled—on top of a range of other emotions. I couldn’t tell if she was angry, sad, or confused. Maybe all three. When she finally found her voice, it was clipped and no-nonsense. “Yes, I knew her. She moved here with her parents when she was ten years old. I helped raise her.”
“Do you have any idea why she left when she was seventeen?”
She hesitated, then said, “I guess I didn’t know her that well.” And with that, she scurried out of the room.
* * *
After lunch, I stowed my purse in my suitcase and checked on Josie. Although she had plenty of food, water, and room to roam and lounge, she was clearly bored. With barely a nod in my direction, she slipped out the door and stalked down the hall, ready to make this castle her own. I decided to follow her example. With a renewed determination, I returned to Elaine’s room for one more thorough search. If that pill bottle was in here, I would find it, by gosh.
For the next hour, I searched high and low. I pulled furniture away from walls, lifted the rug, and crawled the floor from corner to co
rner. I also removed and replaced the contents of every drawer, bin, and closet. Finding nothing, I stood in the center of the room and closed my eyes. With a deep breath, I sought to tap into my intuition. Is there anything else to find in this room?
In my mind’s eye, the answer surfaced like the reply in a Magic 8 Ball.
No.
I opened my eyes and sighed. I should have done that in the first place.
Gathering up my clipboard, I moved on to the west wing sitting room. As I began taking inventory, methodically documenting all personal property as I’d done in Elaine’s room, my thoughts veered from things to people. I was originally hired to find a missing person. I hadn’t heard from Wes today, so I assumed Lana was still at large. I wondered if she’d really moved back to the Edindale area as her friend’s blog had suggested. If so, how near was she? Could she have come to her grandmother’s funeral? Or perhaps she visited the cemetery all alone, after everyone else had left, and placed a single white rose on her grandmother’s grave.
At that moment, I glimpsed the shadowy outline of a person in front of me. I gasped, fairly jumping out of my skin—until I realized it was my own reflection in the mirror above the fireplace mantel. Good grief. That’s what I get for entertaining such fanciful thoughts. I laughed softly as I picked up and studied the decorative glass globe that had captured my attention.
Still . . . what had become of Lana? More to the point, at least as far as the estate was concerned: What were Elaine’s true wishes? Did she really intend to leave everything to the girl who ran away? If only I still had her diaries. Or the new will.
One thing I knew for sure; I wasn’t going to find answers in the sitting room. It was time to employ a more subtle tactic. It was time to go flying.
Before leaving the sitting room, I rifled through the drawers of a vintage sewing cabinet until I came up with a roll of tape. Returning to my room, I made a sign that said NAPPING—PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB and taped it to the door. Of course, I wouldn’t really be napping—though it might look that way to anyone who happened to see me. I needed to stay awake for what I had planned.
First, though, I had to prepare the space. My room had been violated last night. I needed to cleanse it and strengthen my wards. I took out my purchases from Moonstone Treasures and lit the sage bundle. Humming softly, I smudged the entire room. I was beyond worrying about anyone catching a whiff of smoke. If I had to, I’d make up an excuse about burning incense for relaxation. But I didn’t expect to be disturbed.
Next, I smudged the black stone to clear any energies it might have picked up in the store. Finished with the sage bundle, I placed it in the bathroom sink to let it burn out. (Safety first!) Using my left, or receiving, hand, I then held the black stone close to my heart and whispered words of intention:
I dedicate this crystal for its highest purpose,
To repel all negative energies
And bring me the greatest protection.
As I will, so mote it be.
With its power now activated, I placed the stone on one of the bedside tables. For my final bit of preparation, I took out the “flying ointment” Mila had given me. As soon as I unscrewed the tube, I inhaled the sweet, heady aroma of jasmine, sandalwood, ylang-ylang, and lemon. Mila’s special blend was sure to take me on a trip. The scent was intoxicating.
I squeezed a dab of the mixture onto my finger and proceeded to anoint myself. I decided to trace a sigil—in this case a pentacle—with the ointment as I applied it to my forehead, sternum, wrists, and navel. For good measure, I also touched some to the back of my neck and the bottoms of my feet. Finally, I crawled onto the bed and lay on top of the covers.
For the next few minutes, I concentrated on my breathing. It didn’t take me long to enter a meditative state. It was something I did on a regular basis. Astral projection, however, was somewhat new for me. I understood the concept but wasn’t quite sure what to expect. All I knew was that I needed to keep my physical body still but awake and remain in a trancelike state. If I was lucky, my perceiving consciousness—my soul—would separate from my physical self and I would have an out-of-body experience. Exactly where that experience would take me, I wasn’t sure. The astral world was a vast realm. Not only did it form an invisible layer upon the material plane, but it also extended into space as far as the imagination could go.
Gradually, I became aware of a slight pulsating sensation in my limbs. Then I felt myself floating upward, toward the ceiling. In the back of my mind, I wondered if I had fallen asleep and was now dreaming. But then I turned and looked back at myself lying peacefully on the bed. Unconcerned, I rode the current that had pulled me upward and continued rising. I went through the ceiling and through the roof as easily as if they were made of mist. When I was above the house, I looked out across the open skies and perceived majestic mountains in the distance. I had a strong urge to fly toward them, but I resisted. I had a job to do.
Elaine. What did Elaine want?
Willing myself not to fly away, I dropped back down into the house and found myself in the parlor, hovering before Elaine’s portrait. It was exactly as it had appeared the day before. In fact, everything was the same—the chairs, the tables, the flower arrangements. This wasn’t a facsimile of the parlor. This was the parlor.
I moved toward a vase of lilies and noticed a petal had dropped to the floor. It was velvety white with brown along the edges. I reached to pick it up, thinking I would bring it back with me as a souvenir of my travels. But before I could grasp it, I heard a rustling sound, as of the swish of silk skirts. I looked back at the portrait and saw Elaine stand up from her tufted chair. She stepped out of the picture frame and stood before me.
I felt no fear, really, nor any awe. Only curiosity.
“Hello,” I said politely. “How are you?”
She smiled graciously, as if welcoming me to her home. “Very well, thank you. And you?”
“I—I’m fine. But I need your help.”
She smiled and inclined her head, waiting for me to elaborate.
“I’m looking for something. Answers. I need answers. Can you help me find them?”
She nodded and lifted her arm, pointing with her elegant gloved hand. I turned, following her direction, and saw that she indicated the south-facing window. Outside was a walnut tree, its golden leaves flapping like banners. A green-hulled nut dropped from the tree and thudded to the ground.
“Is the answer out there?” I asked.
Suddenly, there was a scuffling, scratching sound at the window. I drew closer and saw a squirrel come into view. It crouched on the windowsill, attempting to carry one walnut between its front paws and one in its mouth—and struggling to keep hold of both. I smiled at the squirrel’s antics. I was sure there was a message there. Nature always had something to say to those who paid attention. No doubt it was a lesson about maintaining balance, juggling priorities, and not taking on too much at once. But that wasn’t the kind of message I was looking for right now.
I turned back to Elaine. “There’s so much I want to ask you. For starters, where—”
A faint tapping sound cut me off. Elaine looked toward the closed door and smiled, as if she knew who was on the other side and was fond of the person. I sensed time was running out.
“What happened the night you died?” I asked, a note of desperation in my voice.
Her eyes shifted to the window again. Before I could say another word, the tapping grew louder, more insistent. All at once, I felt a rush of wind, then an abrupt jolt. My body gave a jerk and my eyes popped open.
I was back in the guest room, lying on top of the covers. I sat up, feeling disoriented. There was a knock on the door followed by Crenshaw’s penetrating voice.
“Keli! Are you in there? Open up at once!”
I swung my legs to the floor and stumbled to the door. When I opened it, I was faced with two vexed stares, that of Crenshaw and of Josie, who nestled somewhat awkwardly in Crenshaw’s arms.
“Your cat was scratching on your door,” he said, by way of explanation. “I feared something was amiss.”
“Everything’s fine. I was just taking a nap.” I pointed at the sign on the door.
Josie jumped down and sniffed my feet. Crenshaw’s nose twitched as well. “Is that a new perfume?”
“Um, yeah. Do you like it?”
He tilted his head, considering. “It’s a bit strong—but not bad. Natural and earthy.”
“Just like me,” I quipped. “So, what’s going on? Did Josie get herself into trouble?”
“Josie? Oh, the cat. No. I stopped by to tell you I’m leaving for a little while. I’m going to the art museum to talk to their head of security. I’m hoping they can spare a guard, or at least recommend someone, to watch over things here.”
“Good idea. Can I come along? I have a few questions for the museum folks myself.”
“I suppose so—if you’re ready now.”
“Just one sec.”
I dashed into the bathroom, pulled my hair into a low, loose ponytail, and applied a touch of brick-red lipstick. It was a far cry from Suzanne’s multi-part makeover, but it suited me just fine. Simple, natural, and understated—all the better for a detective who would rather remain unnoticed.
We took the back stairs to the main floor and started down the west hallway through the mansion. I halted at the parlor door.
“What’s the matter?” asked Crenshaw.
“Nothing. I just want to check something.”
I crossed the room and stood before Elaine’s portrait, in the same place I’d stood in my astral projection. Looking around, I confirmed that every detail was exactly the same, from the arrangement of the furniture and placement of the flowers to the walnut tree outside the window. I walked over to the vase of lilies on a pedestal table and looked down. There, on the floor, was a brown-rimmed white petal. I picked it up and dropped it into my purse.
Autumn Alibi Page 12
