Case of Imagination (18 page)

Jerry hugged her. “That’s it! That’s perfect! People will love it.”

“Speaking of breakfast,” I said, “who’s going to cook?”

Jerry was off and running with this new plan. “I can cook breakfast. It’s just scrambled eggs and bacon and toast. It’s easy.”

“You have to clean up, too.”

“And plan ahead,” Olivia said.

He was too excited to notice our sarcasm. “You could help me, Olivia. You could keep up with the business end. I’ll provide the entertainment. Mac can refer all her clients to Celosia for their country vacations. Nell can put in another bathroom. Maybe we can remodel the attic rooms, if we could ever get in there.”

Now there was a definite craftiness in Olivia’s smile. “I have to admit, it sounds like a good investment. Let me check it out for you. There are all kinds of zoning laws and requirements. A bed and breakfast sounds more reasonable than your other ideas.”

Hang on. This is Olivia’s idea.

She checked her watch. “In fact, I’ll get started right away. I’ll be back after a while. Then maybe we can go do something special, all right?”

She gave Jerry a kiss and went to her car, where she waved and smiled before driving away. What a performance!

Oblivious to any subterfuge, Jerry said, “This is going to be great. Now that Olivia has a mission, she’ll love it here. Once the Eberlin House B&B gets going, she’ll want to be around to take charge. We’ll be able to work things out.”

He looked so pleased by this plan, I didn’t have the heart to discourage him, or mention anything about Olivia’s agenda. She had one, or she wouldn’t have agreed to this scheme. Did she love him enough to move in permanently? Isn’t that what I wanted to do?

“Okay,” Jerry said. “If this B&B is going to work, we need to know what sort of space we’re talking about. Time to explore the attic. I’m hoping for a few good ghosts.”

Getting in was no problem with Nell and a crowbar. She wedged the attic door open. We stepped inside.

I expected cobwebs, battered trunks, boxes of Christmas decorations, and a rat or two. I imagined a laboratory with bubbling flasks and a body laid out on a slab. What I saw was far more fantastic.

A computer. Three video cameras mounted on tripods. Lights hung from the rafters. State of the art taping and editing equipment and microphones I knew cost well into the thousands of dollars. A bed with pink satin sheets and a pillow shaped like a valentine.

Nell’s small features wrinkled in confusion. “Is this some kind of TV studio?”

Jerry stood with his mouth open.

“Jerry,” I said, “looks like your Uncle Val was making very special movies.”

He continued to stare. “I don’t believe it.”

Nell took a few steps closer and examined the light pole. “Well, I’ll be. So this is how come people saw strange lights in the attic. What’s all this?”

I turned on the nearest computer. “Let’s find out.”

The computer had nothing but the usual programs. We didn’t find any CDs. We couldn’t find any videotapes, either, but we found several empty cases.

Jerry checked the cameras. “What else could he have been doing up here?”

“And who else knew about it?”

“I can tell you that,” Nell said. “Nobody. This kinda news would’ve been clear to Raleigh by now.”

I drummed my fingers on the mousepad. “And who did he videotape?”

“Doing what with whom,” Jerry said. “
If
it’s X-rated. We don’t know that.”

I pointed to the pink satin bed. “That doesn’t look like a set for a birthday party.”

Nell sat on the bed. “Right comfy. Maybe he had a girlfriend.” She bounced twice, and the bed popped like a huge party balloon. Jerry and I jumped as Nell landed with a thump.

“What the hell?” Jerry took her hand and tugged her to her feet. “An inflatable bed?”

Nell rubbed her rear. “Sorry about that. I think my screwdriver musta popped it.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “Add it to the mystery list.”

“It’s getting to be a long list,” I said. “Both Ted’s office and the TV station have been trashed. Somebody’s looking for something.”

Nell looked around the attic room. “Well, ain’t this a kick in the head.”

“Nell,” I said, “I’m going to ask you a big favor.”

“Don’t need to spell it out to me. Best to keep quiet about this.”

I inspected some of the equipment. “The camera has the radio station call letters on it.”

“Maybe Benjy Goins knows what was going on,” said Nell. “Wouldn’t put it past him. Always had to be the funny man in school.”

I didn’t see anything funny about this, and I could tell Jerry didn’t, either.

“We’ll figure this out, won’t we, Mac?”

“Call Des and see if he knows anything about your uncle.”

“If I can track him down.”

While Nell went back to her painting, Jerry checked with his older brother. A call to Des’ townhouse apartment in Parkland reached the answering machine, which informed us that Desmond Fairweather was on tour, and emergency calls could be placed with Sylvia Banner of the Arts Council.

Jerry hung up. “I’ll try again later.”

“What about Tucker?” I asked.

“I guess it’s worth a shot.”

I noticed he didn’t have any trouble remembering his old phone number. After a few rings, someone answered. It must have been his younger brother because Jerry’s face relaxed.

“Hiya, squirt. Still pulling weeds?”

I’m sure Tucker made an equally rude reply. Jerry laughed. “Yeah, still on the run. I’m calling from a pay phone and have only a few seconds before the Feds get here.” He paused and laughed again. “No, seriously. Got a question for you. Do you remember anything about an uncle of ours named Val Eberlin? Eberlin. Yeah, I remember Uncle Oberon and Aunt Titania.” He covered the phone for a moment and spoke to me. “Can you believe those names? Somebody had some fairy tale issues.” He listened to Tucker for a while and then said, “Okay. Yeah, I’m going to be in Celosia for a while. Yes, really. At this number.” He gave him the phone number of the Eberlin house. “Thanks, pal. Go easy on the fertilizer.” Jerry hung up and shook his head. “He doesn’t remember an Uncle Val.”

“Well, then, there’s always Harriet.”

He shook his head. “You know I’m not going to talk to her.”

I knew. Harriet, as the oldest of the four Fairweather children, had brought up her three brothers after their parents had died. She had been a strict disciplinarian, and Jerry had left as soon as he could. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Good luck.”

“Does she still live in Parkland?”

“Yes, and don’t tell her where I am.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” I looked through the phonebook. “Is she still Harriet Fairweather?”

“As far as I know.”

There was a Harriet Fairweather listed. I punched in the number. After two rings, a woman’s sharp voice said, “Hello?”

I’d met Harriet only once, and that was enough. She was the opposite of Jerry, dark and withdrawn. “Harriet, this is Madeline Maclin, Jerry’s friend. How are you?”

Harriet was her usual friendly self. “What do you want?”

“I needed to ask you about your uncle, Val Eberlin.”

“What about him? He’s dead.”

“Did you ever meet him?”

“He came to the house one time, as I recall. He didn’t like my father, and my father didn’t like him. What is this all about? Is Jeremyn there?”

“I’m working on a case, and Val Eberlin’s name came up. It’s nothing serious.”

I could hear the bitterness in Harriet’s voice. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised. Our whole family’s cursed, you know, cursed with way too much curiosity.”

She hung up without another word.

“Well, thanks, anyway,” I said to the phone.

“Cheerful as ever, I’ll bet,” Jerry said.

“Yep. She never met your Uncle Val only once.”

Our whole family’s cursed
.

I’ve been in the Fairweather mansion. It’s a huge yellow brick house with white trim and white columns. The gardens out back include fantastic mazes of shrubbery and stone fountains decorated with leaping dolphins. The rooms, decorated in shades of yellow and gold, are serene and full of light. Antique sofas and chairs share space with Asian hand-painted screens and ivory vases.

But the oddest thing in the house is the huge portrait of the Fairweather children that hangs over the mantel in the living room. Des, age eight, stands behind Jerry, age six, who is seated with two-year-old Tucker in his lap. The boys are smiling. Des has a protective hand on Jerry’s shoulder. Jerry has his arms around Tucker.

Harriet’s not in the picture.

“Now what?” Jerry asked.

“Maybe Benjy Goins will be more forthcoming. Ride with me?”

“I think I’ll stay here and see what other secret porn studios I can find.”

***

Goins didn’t seem surprised by my questions. He checked to make sure he had the right tape running and then turned his attention to me. “Yeah, Val bought some used machines, editing equipment, a couple of used cameras.”

“Did he tell you what he wanted all that for?”

“I didn’t pay that much attention. He was an odd duck. He had all kinds of plans and schemes, and none of them ever worked out. He said something about filming Chiroptera. Now you tell me what that means.”

“Chiroptera? Sounds like some kind of animal.”

“What else would he film? Probably means mice or spiders.”

Spiders would not need a heart-shaped bed.

“Benjy, how long was Eberlin dead before he was found?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask the police.”

Chief Brenner would not appreciate my questions. “Do you know the name of the mailman who found the body?”

“I think it was Dennis Padgett. He carries mail out to the farms.”

Before checking with the post office, I stopped in Georgia’s Books and looked up “Chiroptera” in one of the dictionaries. Chiroptera was the scientific name for the order of bats in the class Mammalia, phylum Chordata.

Bats in the attic. Perfect.

As I put the dictionary back in its place, Hayden called, “Madeline, could I ask you something?”

“Yes, of course.” I came to the counter. “What’s up?”

“Do you suppose Jerry would be willing to come check my house for evil spirits?”

He looked so serious and so worried I hated to disillusion him. “Hayden, most of what Jerry does is just for show.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s more than that. Mrs. Mosley was in here earlier today, and she told me about the remarkable results he had with their séance. She said she’d never seen anything like it.”

What could I say? “Well, that really wasn’t a typical séance.”

“She said he crossed over.”

“That’s probably what it looked like. Jerry’s a very good actor.”

Hayden didn’t appear to hear me. “And now with this horrible thing that’s happened to Juliet—I’m afraid the spiritual energy around town is getting worse. If it’s centered anywhere near my house, I need to know. Please. If Jerry can do anything to help, I’d appreciate it.”

The entreaty in his blue-green eyes was impossible to resist. “I’ll ask him.”

Hayden relaxed. “Thanks.”

“I guess anyone’s better than Cynthia Riley.”

“As much as I’d like to hire Cynthia, I don’t think my marriage would stand the strain—which reminds me. How much does Jerry charge for a session?”

“I’ll let you two figure that out,” I said.

“Madeline, do you have any idea who killed Juliet? I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Did you know her?”

“Not really. The only time I ever spoke to her was when I gave a talk to her English class about poetry.”

“I don’t know who did it,” I said, “but I’m going to do my best to find out.” You don’t deserve to worry like this, I thought. If Jerry’s little act can give you some peace of mind, then I say let him do it. “As soon as I get home, I’ll have Jerry call you.”

He thanked me again, and I set out for the post office.

***

The woman at the post office said I could find Dennis Padgett on Oak Street off of Main.

“He should be near Newsome Cleaners right now.”

Dennis Padgett was a thin man with a few pale hairs waving above his head like the tendrils of a sea anemone. He was willing to talk to me if I was willing to trail him as he filled mailboxes along Oak Street.

“Can’t slow down the delivery of the mail, miss.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “I don’t want to keep you from your duty. I just have a few questions.”

“Fire away.”

“I’d like to ask you about the day you found Val Eberlin.”

Padgett rolled up a magazine and tucked it into the mailbox of a shoe store. “Sure sorry to find him like that. He was a right spry old bird.”