A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (12 page)

“Exactly what we expect of you. Miss Delaney, we are not afraid of the truth being discovered and adding that to the history of Stallion’s Gate. Truth be told, in Hollywood, scandals are good for business. Make no mistake though; we want the truth to the story, not a fabrication for the sake of story telling. This is why we would like to hire you to investigate. The additional amount to your check can either be a tip for your publicity writing services rendered or consider it an advance of, let’s say, twenty percent of what we are willing to pay for your investigation work?”

I was almost speechless. “Do I have full access to the property?” I asked.

Strong’s answer was to reach into his desk and pull out a key ring with two keys on it. He laid the keys on the desk in front of me. “We only ask you telephone the guard patrol service before going on to the property after five in the afternoon or before eight in the morning.”

I took the keys from his desk. “And there’s no problem if I have the assistance of the former police detective Francisco Zavala or my friend Alex Blackthorne?” I asked.

“Miss Delaney, I can speak for the entire board, in saying that who ever you should require in your assistance is approved by us. Of course, Mr. Joshua Zavala will also be at your service. Do we have an agreement?” Strong asked.

I stood up and offered my handshake. “We certainly do,” I said.

Curtis Strong shook my hand and then gave me one of his business cards. “Call me, at any time of day or night should you require my assistance.” His eyes gleamed. “I do so love a mystery, Miss Delaney and I welcome the opportunity to help in any way I may be of service.”

Thirty minutes later I was back at my cottage on the phone with Francisco.

“You won’t believe what just happened,” I said to him.

“You’ve been hired to investigate Stallion’s Gate,” he answered.

“Francisco! You knew?”

“I advised them to hire you. All things considered, you are the only one who can get to the core of this mystery. Of course, having a friend, such as myself, will be to your advantage,” he said.

I knew that if I could see Francisco’ face he would be grinning from ear to ear. “And Joshua, does he know? He may not be as keen about this as you are.”

“You are not to concern yourself with my grandson. He’ll come around, you’ll see,” Francisco promised. “We have more important developments to discuss. Let’s meet for lunch at Kathleen’s, say, in about three hours?”

“Okay, that’s fine with me. But, what do you mean by developments?” I asked.

I could tell that Francisco was weighing the circumstances, did he want to clue me in, now, over the phone or wait and tell me face to face. I decided to put the odds in my favor. “I have time to do a little research on the Internet, before we meet for lunch. There must be some lead I can follow up on, c’mon, Francisco, tell me,” I urged.

“The horse found in the pasture is not Rory. It could not possibly have been him. It was dyed red to match the appearance of Rory,” Francisco said.

This did not surprise me and I suspected there was more to the story than what he was telling me. “And what else?” I asked.

“The veterinarian doctor says the horse that was found in the pasture was shot, killed by two bullets to its head. There’s no apparent reason to have killed that horse. Though at this late of a date in doing an autopsy, it would be impossible to know if the horse had been critically ill, in which case the shots to the head would be a mercy killing.”

“But, Francisco, that horse could have been killed to bury the evidence that it was the substitute horse for Rory,” I said.

“Shannon, we cannot jump to conclusions about this.”

“I know, but it is a possibility. What else about that horse do you know?” I asked him.

“Nothing more, at this point. The autopsy is not finished. The other discovery is in regard to the horse in the trophy room. I asked the vet to examine it, thinking it may have also been dyed to match Rory’s appearance. That was not the case. It is genuinely that color of red. However, I suspect it is not Rory.”

“Uh? But of course it is Rory,” I argued. “How can it not be Rory?”

I heard Francisco take a deep breath and then slowly exhale. “Well, it seems that horse is an impostor too. A very clever one and only the taxidermist and the person who hired him would know the truth. In fact, the horse hitched to the carriage in the trophy room is a female Clydesdale with, uh, shall I say, male equipment, cleverly sewn into position.”

“Wow. I did not figure that twist into the equation. I wonder if I can find out who the taxidermist was?”

“I’ve got that information. I’ll tell you more at lunch. See if Alex can meet with us, okay?”

I was too dumbfounded to ask why we should include Alex, so I said I’d call Alex. In truth, it was Eric I wanted to consult with. And no sooner had I thought of him, than did he materialize.

Chapter 22

I arrived at Kathleen’s to find Alex and Francisco already there. They’d chosen a corner booth toward the back of the restaurant. I slid in beside Alex.

Typical of when the two of them got together to eat out, they were engrossed in a discussion about menu selections. Alex gave me a menu and said, “We’re considering the ham club sandwich. Shall I order one for you, too?”

“Sure, but no fried potatoes for me, I’ll have a side of coleslaw.” And with my healthier choice of a salad instead of fried potatoes in mind, I looked at Francisco in hope of influencing his choice.

Francisco caught my look and frowned. “A splurge now and then won’t hurt. I’m siding with Alex on this choice,” he announced.

Because a waitress appeared at that very moment and Francisco ordered for all of us, I lost my opportunity to remind him about his resolution to eat healthier. Alex and Francisco out numbered me.

“I suppose you two will gang up on me in the discussion as well?” I pouted, more for effect than anything else.

Alex spoke up and said, “Not at all. In fact, I was telling Francisco about our investigation at the Regency and we are both eager to know what you found out in regard to the EVPs.”

Alex was sitting immediately next to me and I know he could sense my displeasure with the fact he had told Francisco about our ghost hunt. True, I had brought my research notes with me, but my intention was to catch Alex alone after the lunch and then disclose what I knew. I tried a different plan of action and said, “Well, I had wanted to wait until Gracie was with us. I feel it is unfair to discuss this without Gracie here.”

“Hey, I’m here,” the familiar voice sounded from behind my back. Of course, Francisco would have seen Gracie approach, while I hadn’t a clue that she was invited to lunch, not that I minded, in the least.

Gracie slid in beside Francisco. Her enthusiasm was contagious in how she gushed at meeting him. “I’m so very happy to finally meet you, in person, Detective Zavala.”

“My pleasure,” Francisco answered.

“And Alex, thanks for inviting me,” Gracie said.

She looked as if she had more to say, but the waitress appeared at our table to take her order. At Alex’s suggestion she ordered the same as I did.

“Shannon was about to share what she has learned about the EVPs,” said Alex.

Gracie nodded, so I took out my notepad and proceeded to tell them. “This is in reference to the phrases we heard after Gracie had asked if anyone knew the actress Marla Devereux. Gorgeous gams said by a male voice, well that’s a compliment of sorts. The word gams was 1920s slang for legs. Basically he was saying that Marla had beautiful legs. Really, there’s no hidden meaning or anything derogatory about that remark. The other male voice commented in saying she’s all Sheba, well I’m pretty sure that was a compliment as well. That particular phrase was also common in the music halls of that era and simply stated it means that Marla had sex appeal. Sheba is a reference to the Queen of Sheba, who in mythology had great sex appeal; she was the quintessential seductress. The two remarks from female voices, one said Marla was hotsy totsy and the other said Marla was a ritzy vamp, well, I’m not sure why women would say that. Hotsy totsy simply meant pleasing and ritzy vamp describes an extravagantly dressed woman who is also an aggressive flirt. If it were not for the fact that the tone of the women’s voices did not seem to be angry or snide, I’d be willing to guess that they had some disagreement with Marla or at least did not hold very high opinions of her.”

“Do you think the female voices could be only one woman?” Francisco asked.

It was Gracie who answered. “According to Ruben, the sound tech member of our paranormal investigation group, all the EVPs are from separate voices. Definitely two different women,” Gracie said and then added, “Shannon what about the EVP that seemed to be song lyrics?”

“Yeah, that’s a male voice too. And you are right about it being song lyrics. As the song goes, sway’em to the left, sway’em to the right is from the song titled Ballin’ the Jack. The song is copyrighted to 1913 and it remained very popular through the 1940s.”

I was about to continue but I saw Alex reach into his front jacket pocket and pull out papers. He unfolded them and said “If I may interrupt. The piano music we heard on the EVP is that very song. I have the full sheet music here.” He handed out a copy to each of us.

Studying the copy I made a few notes of my own:

First you put your two knees close up tight, Then you sway ‘em to the left,  then you sway ‘em to the right, Step around the floor kind of nice and light, Then you twis’ around and twis’ around  with all your might, Stretch your lovin’ arms straight out in space Then do the Eagle Rock with style and grace Swing your foot way ‘round  then bring it back, Now that’s what I call  Ballin’ the Jack.

“Was that some kind of dance?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was,” Alex answered. “Though the reference to Eagle Rock is not at all what it appears to be. I thought that was a reference to the town of Eagle Rock, a neighboring city to Pasadena, but as it turns out, to do the Eagle Rock is a metaphor for sexual relations.”

Gracie giggled uncontrollably and between chuckles she managed to blurt out, “The plot thickens.”

Alex laughed, too. Francisco and I remained calm. I was sure there was more meaning to this than what appeared on the surface, and I suspected Francisco did to.

The waitress brought our lunch and the sight and aroma of food in front of us had a sobering effect. We dismissed the investigation while eating. But as soon as we were done and our dishes were cleared, Francisco ordered coffee for all of us and we got back on track.

Chapter 23

Francisco extracted a small notebook from his jacket and flipped through it. Glancing at his notes he opened the conversation by saying “As I mentioned to Shannon before lunch, the horse discovered buried in the pasture is not Rory. That horse was dyed red; its real color was a shade of brown. Also, two bullets to its head killed it. So far the doctor sees no reason for killing that horse. There is not evidence of disease or injury that would have validated a mercy killing. Furthermore, the horse we think of as Rory, the one that is hitched to the carriage in the trophy room, it is not Rory. In fact, it is a female Clydesdale with, as I phrased it for Shannon, male equipment sewn into place.”

“Whew, I never would have guessed that,” Alex said. “So, I suppose the conundrum is, where is Rory, what happened to him and why the charade?”

It was my turn to interrupt. “I believe Reggie Coover is probably the only person who knows what happened to Rory. And he’s long gone, just like the rest of them. Though, I can’t help but to think that wherever Rory is, is also where Marla is.” I left that last thought dangle in the air.

“Shannon, what makes you believe that Rory and Marla are some how together?” Asked Gracie.

“I don’t have a logical explanation, Gracie. Believe me, I wish I did because that would mean we would have a solid lead to follow. And about the horse charade, well it was meant to fool everyone into to thinking Rory had died about the same time Marla went missing. Really, my only defense for what I think may have happened, is that there is a ghost of a chance that Rory and Marla are together, somewhere, and it was meant to be this way, it was planned to be that way. And Gracie, if you wouldn’t mind, I think it is a good idea to go back to the Regency, that is if Francisco would agree to come along.”

Francisco pondered this proposal for a moment and then said, “Before I answer that, I have one more detail to relate in regard to the horse that was dug up in the pasture. Curtis Strong of the Pasadena Conservancy has instructed Joshua and his crew to test dig, at random spaces, throughout the pasture. Just as a precaution, mind you, to see if additional graves are in that pasture. Now as to exploring the Regency, I would love to go with you, but it must be soon. Tonight?”

“If I leave right now, I can make the arrangements,” Gracie said. “Alex, will you come, too?”

“Certainly,” Alex answered.

“Okay. Let’s meet again in the same parking spot at seven this evening. Uh, how much do I owe for my lunch?” asked Gracie.

“I insist, you are my guest,” Francisco said and then added, “I look forward to this evening.”

Gracie left and then I said to Francisco, “Do you think there are additional horses buried in that pasture?”