Bad Hair Day 7 - Dead Roots (6 page)

“Brownie’s been telling me about the meals planned for our family events,” Jeff said.

“Is that so?” Would Jeff
fudge
his response if she accused him of cheating on his wife? Then again, he’d get his just
desserts
if she tipped Lori herself. Or maybe she should e-mail Jeff a
cookie
to a family therapist. Marla smiled to herself as her cousin’s spouse led them toward the well-lit pool area.

“On Friday we’re having a beach picnic with shelling. It should be a blast,” he said. “Then that night is the outdoor luau. Sorry, no roast pig on the menu; it’s not kosher. We’ll have chicken instead. You gonna do the rumrunner’s jog? Sounds like a hoot”

“Where is Lori?” Marla asked bluntly.

“Poor girl has a headache. I came out for a stroll and ran into Brittany, er, Brownie.”

I’ll bet you did more than run into her
. “Don’t tell me you just met,” she scoffed.

“Lori and I have been to the resort before. It’s one of our favorite getaways. We’ve always complimented Brownie on her dessert cart selections.”

Yeah, right
. “How often do you come here? I understand Aunt Polly returns every year.”

“Oh, our visits don’t usually coincide with hers. We’ll both be disappointed if this place is torn down, though.”

“If that theme-park idea gets passed, it’ll ruin things for everyone,” Brownie said in a smooth voice with a gritty undercurrent, like molasses tinged with coffee grounds. “Do you realize they don’t plan to build another hotel? At first I thought it would be a great opportunity to step up and take charge as master chef. But now, I think the changeover could turn into a disaster. Who’ll come to see a recreation of some old buildings with costumed cast members?”

“The town council met earlier to debate the issue,” Marla said. “Did you happen to hear the results?”

“The developers are putting up a strong argument. They say a living-history museum will bring more jobs to the area as well as tourist dollars,” Jeff replied. “That’s baloney. They get plenty of tourists here already. I don’t see any advantage to destroying Andrew’s legacy.”

Marla peered at him closely, but she couldn’t discern his thoughts from his placid expression. How much did he know about their family secrets? “So I gather you and Brownie are opposed to the theme-park idea. You’d rather see the money put into remodeling. What about the ghost stories?”

“The spirits would be a lot happier if we fixed their home,” Brownie said, her dark eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

As they parted company, Marla considered her options. Should she report this encounter to Lori? If it was truly a chance meeting, as Jeff claimed, she’d only stir up trouble.

A cough sounded behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, Marla noticed a figure on one of the lounge chairs by the pool. “Michael, are you alone out here?” she asked her brother.

His face, a male reflection of her own, gave her a weak grin. “I had some drinking to do. I thought I’d sit and listen to the waves. Maybe the right decisions would come to me.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s wrong?”

He waited while she sat on the adjacent chair. “A lot of things. The stock market…You know how things took a dive. People tend to blame their financial advisers.”

Marla felt her blood chill. It had been only a few months since she’d consulted a psychic in Cassadaga, a spiritualist camp in Central Florida. The Reverend Hazel Sherman’s words had been clear:
Your brother is experiencing tremendous emotional difficulties that he’s created for himself. It’s producing a snowball effect…. He’s having to make some major changes in his lifestyle…. A lot of it has to do with his finances. He’s gone off the edge.

Hazel had said a lot of other things, too, about Michael’s relationship with their father and Marla’s need to reconcile with him over past differences. She hadn’t paid any heed to the fortuneteller’s meanderings. Why should she, when Michael and his wife seemed to lead the perfect upscale life in Boca Raton?

“What do you mean?” she said when she found her voice again. “Everyone lost money when the market plunged. You couldn’t predict what was going to happen.”

Michael stared at a trail of ants on the pool deck. “I made some bad choices. Not only for myself, but for my clients. They called me on it, wanted the money back that they’d lost, started lawsuits.” Swiping his hands over his face, he regarded her wearily. “I didn’t tell Charlene the extent of it, but I got us into a pretty big hole.”

Marla swallowed. If the psychic’s forecast about Michael had turned into reality, then what about the warning to her?

You’re going to take a trip, and it involves family issues. Something bad is coming up around this trip.

There may be a death before the end of the year.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were having problems?” Marla asked her older brother. “I could have helped. Does Ma know?”

Michael shook his head. “Don’t say a word to her. I haven’t told her anything.”

“So what are you doing to meet your debts?”

“I got a loan.”

He shuffled his feet while Marla swatted at a hovering wasp. Sniffing fragrant jasmine from a nearby hedge, she skirted away from the insect vector. Encouraging Michael to talk was just as sensitive an issue as dealing with hornets. If you weren’t careful, you’d get stung.

“It isn’t good to keep problems to yourself,” she said. “Stress builds up until it makes you sick.”

“No kidding. I’m probably responsible for running the store out of antacids these days.” Michael smiled ruefully, his toffee-colored eyes so much like her own that Marla’s heart ached.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re making light of something serious? You should trust the people who love you.”

Michael pushed himself off the lounge chair, straightening his tall frame. “If I can correct my own mistakes, no one else needs to suffer along the way. You should understand. You didn’t tell the folks when Tammy’s parents threatened to sue.”

“Daddy had just recovered from his first heart attack when Tammy drowned. My grief caused our parents enough pain.”

“You hired a lawyer on your own, didn’t you?”

“I had to do something when the toddler’s parents blamed me. I’d only gone to answer a phone call they told me to expect. I wasn’t a bad baby-sitter.”

Yeah, and look at what you had to do to earn money for the attorney
. She’d posed for some rather explicit photographs. Her face flushed at the disgraceful memory.

She rose and stretched. “You have nothing to hide. Everyone experienced losses in the lousy economy.”

Wearing sandals, Michael still topped her five-feet-six-inch height by several inches. “If Charlene finds out how much I’ve lost, she won’t see me in the same light anymore. It’s my job to provide for her.” His eyes reflected the glare from the balloon-shaped globes lighting the pool area.

“You’re the one who drives a BMW and has the latest plasma TV on your family room wall. Charlene doesn’t care about those things.”

“She works too hard. I’ve been hoping she could retire soon. This will put a crimp in our plans.”

“Whose plans, hers or yours? I thought she was aiming to make principal of her school.”

He jabbed a hand through his mocha brown hair. “Just because you enjoy working so much doesn’t mean Charlene does. She’d like to stay home with the kids.”

“Oh yeah?” Marla planted a hand on her hip. “I never got the impression that Charlene means to quit her job, especially when Jacob is in kindergarten and Rebecca is almost old enough for preschool. You want her to stop working because it’ll make you feel more manly. It’s merely another status symbol for you to be the sole breadwinner.”

Like Stan, my dear ex-husband. The jerk couldn’t understand why I wanted to go to cosmetology school. No way I’d ever burden myself with another controlling male.
Marla didn’t like to see her brother in that role, either.

“I don’t know how we got down this road,” Michael said in a morose tone.

“Speaking of roads, remember when you told Daddy about your car accident and he loaned you the money to fix your car?”

“I should have dealt with my own problems instead of burdening him. Pop had his fatal attack not long afterward.”

Old resentments surged from an inner well she hadn’t known still existed. In her heart, she’d blamed him for their father’s death. If Michael had stayed home during the rainstorm like Mom had insisted, he might not have skidded on the wet road and hit that other car. His disregard for safety could have led to worse, but enough stress came from the incident anyway.

Hadn’t the psychic said her brother had to move past his emotional difficulties? Reverend Sherman’s insights revealed that Michael had meant to apologize to their father, but he hadn’t been able to do so before the man died. Her dad had made his peace; now it was her brother’s turn. She had to offer forgiveness, too, if she meant to help him.

Besides, Marla had taken out a loan recently, and she hadn’t told Michael about it. True, Miriam Pearl had offered the funds after Marla had solved the murder of the old lady’s granddaughter. Marla needed it to buy some rental property from her ex-spouse. But from the rent received plus her income from work she’d been able to make the payments to Miriam each month.

“At least tell Charlene about your situation,” she said. “It’s better to forewarn her instead of surprising her if you run into a snag. She’s smarter than you think. I’ll bet she’s already guessed what you’ve avoided telling her.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I have a plan to set things straight. But I do appreciate your listening.” Tapping her under the chin, he grinned. “I’m always here for you, too, sis.”

In another instant, he’d turned on his heel and left.

Marla stood alone with the buzzing insects and steady rhythm of the waves. Troubled by their encounter, she watched her brother’s retreating figure until the dark night swallowed him.

She’d stepped forward a few paces, intending to return to her hotel room, when a moving shadow on the rear veranda caught her eye. Changing direction, she climbed the stone stairway to the Grand Terrace.

Dr. Rip Spector faced Oleander Hall, holding some sort of device in his hand. Marla cleared her throat, startling him because he jerked upright.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.” Lamplight gave her a glimpse of his stark white hair, curious hazel eyes, and surprisingly young face. She’d put him in his mid-forties.

“I’m Marla Shore. My family is here for a reunion this weekend. Mr. Butler told me he hired you to chase away the ghosts,” she said, cracking a grin.

“Indeed. I’m attempting to get a base reading on the EMF fluctuations.” He spoke stiffly, as though used to people’s skepticism.

“Pardon me?” Her glance fell to the instrument he held.

“Electromagnetic field. Spirits produce a disruption of energy in the area, but so do many of our common household appliances. This EMF field meter measures readings, but I have to locate normal sources before I can detect unusual spikes.”

“I see.” She noted the open canvas bag on the ground displaying an array of other equipment. “Have you found anything interesting yet?”

“Oh yes.” His voice filled with enthusiasm. “This place abounds with spiritual energy. So much has happened here in the past, it’s no wonder.”

“Are you allowed into Oleander Hall?” she asked.

“Of course, although Mr. Butler has requested we clear the times with him before we work there.”

“I thought I felt a presence in the tower elevator.”

The ghost hunter laughed, which eased the lines on his face and gave him a more carefree appearance. Marla wondered what he did for his day job. ‘That’s probably old Andrew, who wants to scare people away from his penthouse.”

“Why is that?”

Dr. Spector shrugged. He had a bulky frame, made wider by too many good meals. “Could be he’s just territorial. I don’t think that’s the case with the anomalies in Oleander. I’ve caught a ball of light in the parlor with my camera and EVP—electronic voice phenomena—on audio. I’m no psychic, but those spirits seem restless.”

“Can you find out what they want?”

“That’s not my job. We’re here to capture evidence of spirit activity and convince the entities to leave. If you’re respectful, and you tell them to go, they’ll realize they don’t belong there anymore.”

“What about the man who fell off his ladder today?” she said, careful to keep her voice neutral. “According to the manager, some of the workmen believe a ghost may have caused the disaster.”

“Poltergeists can be dangerous, not because they want to cause harm, but because they possess a great deal of energy.” He gave her a level stare. “I don’t believe that unfortunate business was related to our otherworldly friends.”

“The police say it was an accident.”

“So I would presume.” He tilted his head. “If you’re really interested in learning more about what we do, come up to my room. I can show you photos of orbs and other phenomena.”

“No, thanks, I don’t have time right now. Besides, I’d rather check out Oleander Hall. Can you call me when you’re going inside the old wing? I promise I won’t interfere with your research.” Unless she mistook that gleam in his eye, he’d look for an excuse to run into her again.

Her thoughts swerved in a new direction the next morning. After a leisurely breakfast and a brisk walk around the resort, she and Vail split up. He headed to a volleyball game on the beach, while she joined a bowling tournament in the sports and spa complex. Needing time alone with her family, she figured this would be a good opportunity to bring up Polly’s mention of the family riches.

“Aunt Polly told me about some gemstones our grandfather owned,” she said to her assorted cousins. “I’ll bet this is where he got the money to buy the plantation. She believes the remainder of his loot is still here. Polly has been searching for it but unsuccessfully so far, and she’s asked for my help.”

Lori, who’d come with her husband, widened her eyes. “No kidding. What kind of gems? Diamonds?”

“Where did grandfather get them?” inserted Cynthia, looking her usual svelte self in belted linen slacks and a silk blouse.

“Good question,” Marla replied. “Maybe he stole them, and those visitors in Cossack hats were detectives who tracked him down. Supposedly Andrew was upset after he left them in his parlor. Why else would they have come to see him?”

“They could have been foreign investors,” Cynthia offered. “What if they’d put up the money for the hotel and wanted payback? If Andrew didn’t have the funds, that would be enough cause to give him a stroke.”

“Didn’t you say Ruth stopped talking to her sister and brothers after Andrew died?” Lori asked Marla. “If the remaining stones were missing, maybe she suspected her siblings stole them. She could have blamed them for their father’s fatal attack.” Lori stopped speaking to applaud Jeff, who’d just scored a strike.

Marla gestured. “Aunt Polly said she wanted to right old wrongs this weekend. Since our great-aunt and great-uncles are no longer living, that would refer to our Colorado cousins.”

“I don’t think they know any more than we do about the past history of Sugar Crest,” said Joan, one of Marla’s teammates. Her daughter Rochelle was noticeably absent. Marla wondered if the teen had gone to the beach with her new friends, where she’d likely run into Vail. It made her impatient to leave.

“Polly recommended this place for our reunion, didn’t she?” Marla addressed her query to Cynthia.

The blonde nodded. “I can’t tell you how surprised I felt when Aunt Polly said our family used to own the resort. My mother was the next eldest after Polly, but she’d never said a word to me. Lori, you and Jeff have been here before. Did Uncle William say anything to you?”

“We’re just as much in the dark as you are, aren’t we, sweetheart? “Jeff said, smiling at his wife as he walked up to them. “You know, I’m getting a hankering for a mug of hot coffee.”

Lori scrambled to her feet from the bench where she’d waited for her turn. “I’ll get right on it, dear.”

“Try not to spill it this time, okay? Oh, and get me a couple of chocolate doughnuts while you’re at it.”

Lori seemed to shrink into herself. “I may not have enough change.”

Frowning, Jeff pulled out his wallet. “I thought I just gave you a ten yesterday. I told you not to squander it. Here’s twenty. That had better last longer.”

Watching their exchange, Marla bit her tongue to keep herself from defending her cousin. Not one to allow a man to push her around, she felt her hackles rise, especially when she remembered her encounter with Jeffrey and the cute chef last night.
It’s not your place to interfere
, she reminded herself, digging her nails into her palms. Nonetheless, she resolved to catch Lori alone later and offer a few words of advice.

Her turn came, and she rolled the ball down the lane, where it ended in the side gutter. Oh, well. Bowling wasn’t her thing; it was the conversation that interested her more.

“What do you think, Marla?” Jeff asked. “Is there something valuable hidden here that belongs to our family?”

My family, pal
“If anyone looks for the stuff, it should be me. Polly didn’t tell any of you about the gems. She wanted me to help her find the stones.”

“Hey, they don’t belong to her,” Cynthia protested. “We’re all Andrew’s heirs. If there’s going to be a treasure hunt, I want in.”

That’s what you get for introducing Cynthia to adventure
. After facing down a couple of murderous crooks in a funeral home with Marla, her cousin was too eager to participate in another investigation. “We don’t even know what to look for or where to begin,” Marla said, hoping to discourage false hopes.
Oh no? What about Andrew’s penthouse tower suite, that everyone claimed was haunted but was situated above the floor where Potty had grown up
?

“Maybe it’s hidden in the old sugar mill,” said one of the other cousins. “You know, guarded by that lady ghost.” She gave a delicious shiver.

Marla had given up trying to learn everyone’s name. They needed name tags. Restless to get outside into the fresh air and look for Vail, she shifted on the hard bench while another ball clunked onto the alley and thundered toward the pins.

Her temples throbbed by the time the game finished and she’d turned in her shoes. She sauntered outdoors, wincing at the bright sunlight. Their big family dinner wasn’t until three o’clock, so she still had some morning hours free. Her steps took her toward the beach, where apparently the volleyball game was long over. Sun-warmed sand sifted through her toes as she walked without her sandals, checking the occupants of the lounge chairs. Giving cousins Alan and Julia a passing greeting, she moved on to the pool, where she found Cynthia’s brother. He sat in animated conversation with some of her younger relatives, dealing cards at a table. After muttering her greetings, she turned and headed for the main hotel.