Crowned and Moldering (13 page)

“He was two years older than me, but he asked me out a few times. I said no.”

She groaned. “Oh, Shannon. This can’t be about that.”

“I’m afraid it might be.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” She let loose a heavy sigh. “I never thought I’d ever have
to say this to anyone, but please watch your back.”

“I will. Thanks, Ms. Barney.”

I hung up feeling drained. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and I had a
full day of work ahead of me, but I wanted to crawl back into bed and hide from the
world.

“No,” I said out loud, causing Robbie to bark in response. “Sorry, buddy.” I picked
him up and hugged him tightly, then set him back down. After gulping down the rest
of my coffee, I carried the mug and my empty cereal bowl to the sink.

No, I refused to crawl back to bed. Instead I wanted to go find Cliff Hogarth and
smack him upside the head. I wouldn’t mind if Eric threw him in jail, either. What
a conniving creep.

Hmm.
I wondered if I could file a complaint of some kind. What Cliff had said and done
crossed the line into slander, and I wondered if I should just sue him. But maybe
the best thing to do was track him down, get in his face, and let him know I wasn’t
going to put up with his nonsense anymore.

Once I’d straightened up the kitchen, I sat down and called Wade, then conferenced
in Carla to let my two foremen know that I’d be meeting the engineer that afternoon
to discuss the new job. I asked Wade to join me at the school for the meeting, since
he had experience laying down blacktop.

“I’ll be there,” Wade said.

“You want me to work any of it?” Carla asked.

“Let me see what their schedule is first,” I said. “I think I’ll start the job and
then maybe pass it on to you, Carla. I want all of us to get some experience with
these canopies they’re setting up, because as soon as companies around town see what’s
going on, there’s going to be more and more demand for alternative-energy construction.
We might as well get all the experience we can.”

“I agree,” Wade said. “We’ve done rooftop gardens and greenhouses, and we did the
windmill farm out by the Zen center.”

“Hey,” Carla said, laughing. “You might have to change the name of the company to
Green Hammer.”

“I like that,” I said, feeling better. But my mood didn’t last long, as I related
Ms. Barney’s warning about Cliff Hogarth and his slurs against me and the company.
“Can you guys keep your eyes and ears open in case you hear anything else?”

“He’s a joke,” Wade said derisively.

“A dangerous joke,” Carla amended.

“I can’t afford to take it as a joke,” I admitted. “And, for some reason, the fact
that he said what he said to Ms. Barney, my old high school principal”—I rubbed my
arms—“that’s more disturbing than anything else.”

We spoke for another few minutes, and I promised I’d call Carla later to tell her
how the meeting with the engineer went.

I wished my father was in town, but he was working at my uncle Pete’s winery out on
Highway 128. They were building an addition onto the modern barn that housed the massive,
stainless-steel, temperature-controlled tanks. This was where the wine sat and fermented
before it was transferred to oak barrels.

Uncle Pete’s winery had grown more popular in recent years, as had all of the wineries
in the Anderson Valley. He’d purchased another ten acres of vineyards a few months
ago and now he needed extra space to add a few more tanks.

I had promised to drive out there some weekend and help with the construction. Uncle
Pete had agreed to make homemade pasta while I was there. It sounded like a pretty
good trade. And it wasn’t exactly a hardship to drive the distance, since the Anderson
Valley was barely ten miles east of Lighthouse Cove.

When Dad wasn’t helping Uncle Pete or traveling to some fishing hole somewhere, he
parked his RV in my driveway, and I got to see him anytime I wanted to. I could’ve
used some commonsense advice from him right about now, because I was feeling pretty
low. Thanks to that slimy snake Cliff Hogarth.

I supposed I could call him, but Dad rarely had his cell phone turned on. No, I would
have to go out there and see him in person if I wanted to talk.

Tiger curled herself around my ankle and I smiled, amazed at how well my animals could
sense my moods. “I’ll snap out of it,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Despite my words, Robbie perched himself in front of my feet and whined until I picked
him up and let him comfort me.

After a few minutes of quiet, I whispered, “No, I don’t like that guy either. But
don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

Just as soon as I sued Hogarth for defamation. Or maybe I’d just go ahead with my
original plan and smack him upside the head, preferably with a two-by-four.

*   *   *

That afternoon, I met with Josh Martin, the engineer from SolarLight, the company
providing the solar canopies for the school parking lot. He had scruffy hair and a
nice smile and wore horn-rimmed bifocals. I would describe him as a good-looking nerd.
He wore a navy sports coat with a wild red Jerry Garcia tie I recognized from one
that Lizzie bought Hal a few years ago. I liked Josh immediately, maybe because of
the tie.

Ms. Barney was there, too, and one of the school board members, Bob Heath. Wade arrived
a few minutes after me, and I was glad to have someone else on my side in case I missed
anything.

Josh handed each of us a thick, dark blue folder that contained several of the company’s
glossy brochures as well as pages of specs and a precise timeline for the work to
be completed. The brochures contained numerous photographs of the architecturally
appealing canopies, showing a streamlined design that consisted of a long V-shaped
panel held in place by thick, fifteen-foot-tall steel posts that would cover two rows
of twelve cars each, for a total of twenty-four cars. The school had ordered three
of the canopies, so the total number of cars that would be able to park in the lot
would be seventy-two.

“The theory behind our product is a simple one,” Josh explained. “Asphalt and concrete
parking lots and pavements cover much of our country, especially in the cities. These
surfaces retain heat and create what scientists call the urban heat-island effect.
Our canopies offer an easy solution to the problem by providing shade to cool the
ground surface and the individual cars parked there.”

“That’s pretty simple logic,” Bob said. I could tell that despite the board’s having
approved the expenditure, he was hoping to be convinced further.

“It might sound like mere convenience to provide shade for your students’ cars,” Josh
continued, “but consider this: the Department of Energy has determined that parking
in the shade actually has a positive effect on the environment. That’s because when
a student gets in his car at the end of the school day, he won’t have to switch on
the air conditioner to cool off, thus increasing fuel efficiency for the life of the
car.”

“Never thought of that,” Bob muttered.

“Additionally, the design includes a gutter system that collects rainwater and directs
it to a ten-thousand-gallon tank that will be concealed beneath the parking lot surface.
That water can be used to irrigate the fields and landscaping across the campus, as
well as being available for various nonpotable uses within the buildings, thus reducing
your water and power bill.”

“What kind of nonpotable uses?” Bill asked.

Josh nodded. “Good question. Mainly things like flushing toilets, hosing down the
floors of the cafeteria or the locker rooms, laundering gym towels—that sort of thing.
Part of our service includes the installation of pipes that run from the tank to wherever
you have a use for the water.”

“That’s brilliant,” Ms. Barney said, clearly anxious to sway Bob Heath.

“I like to think so,” Josh said. “Now the panels themselves generate a lot of energy,
of course. We’ve estimated that your canopies will eventually generate enough power
to cover forty-five percent of the school’s needs for an average school year.”

“Forty-five percent is pretty darn good,” Bob mused. “But this stuff sure costs a
lot to install.”

“The costs are going down every year, but, yes, that is the major sticking point.
But here’s the thing: we estimate that with the power and water you save, you’ll have
made your initial investment back within four years. We’ve already contacted your
local water and power company to get your new system hooked up to its grid. All things
being equal, you could start saving money on your bill immediately. But realistically,
it’ll take time. A few months, usually. If you have any problems, you’ll contact us.”

Bob shrugged. “Sounds fair.”

“In addition to all that, the panels will also serve as a power source for any hybrid
or electric cars parked in the lot. I counted eight hybrids in the lot today, and
within the next five years, that number is expected to triple. So this will provide
your students with a welcome perk.” Josh paused, then managed to smile and make eye
contact with each of us before adding, “And besides all that good stuff, let’s face
it: these canopies look really cool.”

“They sure do,” Bob muttered.

We all chuckled and nodded in agreement. Because they really did.

Once Bob and Ms. Barney left, Josh and Wade and I had a long discussion about the
construction process. First we would regrade and level the surrounding area to provide
enough space to park seventy-two cars, plus an entry wide enough to allow cars to
enter and exit at the same time. We would excavate deeply enough to make space for
the ten-thousand-gallon water tank that the company would provide. We would install
pipes leading from the gutters to the tank and from the tank to specific hoses for
irrigation, and other pipes leading to the main building, for nonpotable uses.

We would set the thick steel posts in six feet of concrete and embed them into the
blacktop.

And while my guys and I would do most of the work, it would all be supervised by several
members of the SolarLight team. I was very happy to hear that they’d be around, because
this would be my first experience installing solar canopies and I wanted to make sure
it was done right.

“Man, that was interesting,” Wade said as we walked back to our cars. “And this job
is going to be a lot more complicated than I thought.”

“I got an idea of the scope of the job from the bidding forms,” I said. “But you’re
right. It’s going to be a lot of work. We can handle it, though. I’m excited to get
started.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Hello, Shannon.”

I glanced in the direction of the voice. “Hey, Mr. Jones.”

He looked exhausted, and I suddenly pictured him rushing out of the building the other
day to go home to the police.

“How are you holding up?” I asked. “How’s Denise?”

“She’s been a real trooper, even though she cried for a while. She and Lily were such
good friends.” He rubbed his neck, looking discomfited. “I was pretty flipped out,
though. I can’t tell you how weird it is to see a couple of cops sitting in your living
room, interviewing your wife.”

“I can imagine.” Except for the wife part, I could totally relate to his dilemma,
but I didn’t mention that. “Chief Jensen is a great guy, though. He’ll get to the
bottom of things. And I’ll bet Denise was a big help to him. She told him about Mr.
Dain, right?”

“Yes,” he said, looking a little dazed by my fast talking. “She told him that Darren—er,
Mr. Dain—was Lily’s advisor. I hope he was able to help the police.”

“I hope so, too.” Although I doubted Dismal would have anything worthwhile to say.

Mr. Jones seemed to realize he was in a mood and physically shrugged it off, and flashed
me a cheery smile. “So, what brings you back to school again?”

“We’re rebuilding the senior parking lot,” I said. “By the way, have you met Wade
Chambers? He’s my foreman, so you’ll probably see him around here a lot.”

The two men greeted each other and shook hands.

“Hi, Brad.”

The three of us turned to see Whitney approaching, and my spirits took a nosedive.
Instead of greeting me, she looked from Wade to Mr. Jones and gave me a look of puzzlement.
She was so transparent, I knew she was trying to figure out how I rated the company
of two such good-looking men.

“Hello, Whitney,” Mr. Jones said, and gave me and Wade a quick, forced smile. “Nice
meeting you, Wade. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go run an errand. See you all
later.” And he was gone.

“He didn’t have to leave,” Whitney said, pouting as she watched Mr. Jones run to his
car.

Wade grabbed my arm. “We’ve got to go, too. Remember, Shannon? See you around, Whitney.”

I almost laughed. My big tough foreman looked scared to death. I didn’t blame him.
Whitney was in predator mode.

“Shannon, wait,” Whitney said.

I stopped and turned around.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” she said.

I stared at her. “Are you talking to me?”

“Of course, silly,” she said, giggling.

Giggling?
Had hell frozen over? Whitney didn’t giggle. Not around me. I was more suspicious
than ever, and I gripped Wade’s arm like a vise. No way was he leaving me here to
face her alone.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve hired a contractor to redo my powder room,” she
said blithely. “And I’d like you to deliver the blueprints of the house to him.”

“But . . .” Nobody else had ever worked on Tommy’s house but me. Ever. My first reaction
was confusion. “I always do the work on your house.”

“I know, but just this once I’d like to make a change. You don’t mind sharing with
someone new, do you?”

I was so furious, I could barely speak, but I managed to squeak out a word. “Who?”

She smiled brightly. “Cliff Hogarth.”

My breath caught. I tried to remind myself that Whitney wasn’t really as awful as
I sometimes painted her to be. But then there were times like this when the woman
was truly Satan’s spawn.

I had to swallow a few times before I could respond, and even then my voice sounded
raspy and slow, like I’d caught the plague or something. “Cliff can get the blueprints
himself from the Planning Commission.”

“Of course he can,” Whitney said reasonably. “But he’s been away from town so long
that he doesn’t know all the ins and outs and all the right players. And since your
father built the house, I know you can get ahold of them so much faster than he could.
Would you mind?”

“My father built the house,” I murmured, staring at my hands. “And I do the work.”

“I know, but—”

I looked up at Whitney. “That’s how it’s always been.”

She tossed her hair back. “I know, Shannon. But Cliff is an old friend, so I wanted
to help him out. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“If Cliff wants a favor from me he can ask me himself,” I told her, and kept to myself
the part about how I’d do him a favor when hell froze over.

“Well,” Whitney answered with a tiny wince that didn’t cause any nasty frown lines
between her eyebrows. “He probably would, but he told me he’s worried that you’re
feeling threatened by him being back in town.”

“You should ask yourself why I might feel that way,” I said. I might have said more,
but, thankfully, Wade dragged me away from her before I could snap her skinny neck
like a twig.

I hated that she sounded so sensible when I came across like a petulant child.

I’d never had a true homicidal thought, but around Whitney, all bets were off. The
more I stewed over how she’d tried to manipulate me, the more enraged I grew. Sure,
maybe she only wanted to help Cliff, but she was earning extra bonus points for screwing
with me.

“Get the blueprints, huh? When pigs fly.” My breath was coming fast and heavy, like
a prize bull catching sight of the flashing red cape of a bullfighter. It wasn’t a
pretty analogy but it worked for my current situation.

Wade grabbed the keys from my hand and opened my truck door. “It’ll be okay, boss.”
He gave my arm a light shake. “You need to chill out.”

“I’ve always done the work on Tommy’s house,” I explained haltingly. “That was the
deal my dad made when he sold it to him.”

“Your dad sold the house to Tommy?”

I nodded, not sure why I’d never mentioned that fact to Wade. Dad had been both owner
and builder of many of the beautiful Victorian-style homes that studded the dramatic
Alisal Cliffs. He’d always been fond of Tommy, even though he’d broken my heart when
he dumped me, so Dad had given him a good deal on a lovely home. One that Tommy couldn’t
really afford at the time.

At first I’d been horrified that my own father had gone behind my back to help Tommy,
but in the end, I was glad he did. I wanted Tommy to be happy—I really did. Just not
with Whitney.

“We don’t need the work, boss,” Wade said.

“You know it’s not about the work or the money. It’s about Cliff Hogarth. He’s a bloodsucker,
going after my clients behind my back. And Whitney’s so clueless, she doesn’t get
that he’s manipulating her. Meanwhile, she turns around and tries to do the same to
me.”

“You’re right,” Wade said calmly. “But you can’t do anything about it right now.”

“I can’t hunt him down and punch him in the nose?”

He smiled. “Not right now. You’re too flipped out. You need to get in your truck and
leave. Go home and pour yourself a glass of wine. Or go visit your girlfriends. Do
something. Just let this go for now. We’ll deal with it later.”

“Oh, God.” I felt so powerless and that wasn’t like me. I was a fighter. But right
now, I was just plain tired. “Okay, I’ll go home for now. But we’ll find a way to
get back at him.”

“Yeah, we will.” Wade gave me a comforting hug and rubbed my back. “We will.”

*   *   *

I stopped by the house to feed Robbie and Tiger and play with them for a few minutes,
but I knew I was too agitated to stay home alone. Wade was right about visiting friends.
I needed a friendly face. I ran upstairs to grab a warmer jacket, then drove over
to Hennessey House, my friend Jane’s elegant new bed-and-breakfast, hoping she would
have some time to spend with a friend in need. Namely, me.

Jane and I had been BFFs since we were babies. Her uncle had lived next door to me
until recently. We were the same age and had gone from first grade to senior graduation
together. She knew all the players, especially Whitney, although Jane had never been
the target of as much scorn as I had. Probably because she hadn’t been Tommy’s girlfriend.

I walked inside the massive Victorian B and B and found Jane sipping wine in the well-appointed
front parlor, surrounded by her guests. She was describing some of the restaurants
on the pier to them, but looked up when I entered the room.

“Shannon.”

“Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“No, no, your timing is perfect.” She glanced at her guests. “This is Shannon Hammer,
the friend I told you about. The one who renovated my B and B.”

One of the women gasped in delight. “Oh, you did the most fabulous job. We travel
a lot, but I’ve never been in such a gorgeous home before. The Victorian details are
fantastic.”

“Jane chose all the furnishings,” I said. “I just hammered and painted and all that
stuff.”

Jane laughed. “She’s being far too modest. Believe me, the place would still be a
shambles if Shannon hadn’t been around to whip it into shape.”

Jane handed me a glass of pinot noir, and I sipped it while she spent a few more minutes
making small talk with her guests. We both made suggestions about the best places
to shop in the town square and the easiest, fastest route to get to the Anderson Valley
wine country.

I had to admire my friend, who certainly looked the part of elegant innkeeper with
her hair swept back in a French twist and her understated makeup. She wore brown silk
trousers and a simple white silk shirt with a pair of Kenneth Cole brown flats. I
knew the brand because I had the same pair in my closet. Gold earrings and a thin
gold lariat completed Jane’s outfit.

Finally she excused herself and latched onto my arm as we left the sitting room. We
walked down the hall to the kitchen, where Jane grabbed a small tray and filled it
with a basket of crackers, a plate of cheese, and a bowl of olives. Then she practically
dragged me up the stairs and into the sitting room of her private suite.

She opened a bottle of wine from her small stash on the shelf, poured two glasses,
and handed me one.

As soon as I sat down on the love seat, she said, “What happened to you? You look
terrible.”

“Sadly, you’re not the first person to notice.”

“Really?” She sat in the chair across from me.

“Yeah, Emily said something similar yesterday. I guess I should appreciate your honesty.”

“Don’t be a dolt. You always look ravishing, but I can tell something’s wrong. Spill
it.”

I took a serious gulp of wine and grabbed a few crackers. Then I unloaded on my best
friend and told her everything, starting with finding Lily’s bones and dealing with
Sean’s pain. I went into my long interview with Eric and how I ran into Mr. Jones.
I ranted on about Dismal Dain and my hope that he would spend time in jail. And I
ended with my feelings of horror at the thought that Whitney and Cliff Hogarth might
be in cahoots.

“You’ve been busy,” Jane said mildly, relaxing in the overstuffed chintz chair.

“That’s one way to spin it,” I said with a sheepish smile. “Switching topics, I saw
Emily last night. She seems pretty happy in her new house.”

“I ran into her at the market a few days ago. But let’s not change the subject just
yet.”

“But I’m so tired of whining about me.”

“Have you talked to Tommy?”

I had to think about it as I took another sip of wine. “Not since I saw him at the
mansion on Monday. Why?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shannon, Tommy would never renege
on the deal he made with your father. Whitney has no such scruples, unfortunately.
Her problem is that she’s so self-centered, she doesn’t even realize how much she’s
hurting you.”

“No, my pain is just a happy consequence.”

She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Talk to Tommy.”

“I hate to be a snitch.” I grimaced at the memory of Whitney accusing me of being
that very thing.

“Oh, please.” Jane brushed my words aside. “Who cares? This is a good-faith contract
between Tommy and your dad we’re talking about here. The fact is, Whitney’s pulling
something on you, and Tommy needs to fix it right away.” She grabbed her wineglass.
“So think about it. There must be all sorts of reasons why you’d be at City Hall and
happen to run into Tommy in the parking lot. And when you see him, you can be the
snitch you always wanted to be.” She took a sip of her wine. “Besides, if the work
is done on his house and you’re not there, don’t you think he’ll notice?”

I laughed, but Jane was right. City Hall shared a parking lot with the police department.
It would be easy to track down Tommy and pretend I just happened to be passing by.
But what would I tell him? I didn’t want to whine to Tommy about Cliff Hogarth. There
had to be a way. . . .

Then a simple yet brilliant idea struck. I jumped up from my chair and did a little
happy dance. “I know what I’m going to do. Yay! Thank you.” I leaned down and squeezed
her knees. “You’re a genius.”

“I am,” she said, grinning. “And someday you’ll tell me all about your diabolical
plan.”

“I will, I promise. I need to think it through first, but it’ll work—I’m sure of it.”
I sank down into the chair and sighed contentedly. “I feel so much better now.”

“Good.” She finished her wine. “I’d feel better, too, if we went out for pasta.”

*   *   *

The next morning was Saturday, and I worked for a few hours at Emily’s house, scraping
more wallpaper off the living room walls. I think the stuff was alive and reproducing
in the night, because I never seemed to make much progress. But I didn’t really care.
Basically I just needed more time to think, and lately wallpaper was my go-to drudge
work that gave me the opportunity.

At noon, I took a lunch break and drove to the police department, taking a chance
that Tommy might be working that day. At the front counter, I asked the desk officer
if Tommy was around. “You bet, Shannon. Just have a seat.”

A minute later, Tommy walked out and greeted me with a hug.

“How are you?”

“I’m great. I came by to drop off the blueprints.”

He looked around. “What blueprints?”

“The ones for your house,” I said with every strand of innocence I possessed. “I’ve
got them out in the car.”

“Why?”

I batted my eyelashes virtuously. “Because Whitney said Cliff Hogarth would need them
to do the work on your powder room.”

“Cliff Hogarth?” His eyes narrowed. “Powder room? Wait. Aren’t you doing the work?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, huh.” He scratched his head. “Hmm. Okay, I guess I was supposed to ask you
when you’d have time to do it, but . . . shoot. With everything that’s happened since
finding the skeleton and all, it must’ve slipped my mind. But you’ll do it, right?”

“You know I’d love to. But Whitney told me she hired Cliff to do the job. That’s why
he needs the blueprints.”

Tommy clenched his jaw. He hated conflict, so I knew he was aggravated. “Shannon,
we only work with you. Whitney must’ve forgotten. I’ll talk to her.”

I patted his arm. “It’s totally understandable that she’d forget, what with all she
has to do every day.”

“I know,” he said, relaxing slightly. “She never stops.”

“You’re so lucky.” I pulled my keys out of my purse. “Okay, I’ll be happy to do the
work. Just let me check my calendar and I’ll get back to you with some dates when
we can meet to discuss exactly what you’d like to have done.”

“Great. Super.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Thanks, Shannon. I’m sorry
about the mix-up.”

“No problem, Tommy. I’ll talk to you later.” I gave him a big hug and a loud, smacking
kiss on the cheek and walked out smiling. With any luck, Whitney would hear all about
that kiss.

*   *   *

An hour later, back at Emily’s, I held the steaming iron against the wallpaper and
thought about Tommy and his reaction to the news that his wife had tried to hire Cliff
Hogarth. Tommy was possibly the mildest-mannered, most happy-go-lucky person I’d ever
known, so seeing him react with even that small amount of negativity was a rare sight.

And I didn’t feel a single ounce of remorse for manipulating the situation toward
my own ends.

Why should I? Yes, Tommy would try to read Whitney the riot act, but she would make
up some excuse and wind up wrapping him around her little finger all over again. But
that didn’t mean she would get her way when it came to hiring Cliff as their new contractor.
Tommy and my father had shaken hands on the deal all those years ago, and Tommy was
too honorable a man—despite Whitney—to ever go back on his word.

Besides,
I thought,
this isn’t even about Tommy and Whitney. This is about getting back at Cliff Hogarth,
who has apparently decided it would be fun to ruin my life.

*   *   *

Sunday morning, our town Festival Committee met at my house to put the finishing touches
on the St. Patrick’s Day parade and Spring Festival scheduled for three weeks from
now. We had tried to find another day to meet, but the festivities were fast approaching,
and this Sunday was the only time we were all available.

I made everyone happy by serving bagels and cream cheese with a pretty platter of
fruit.

Lighthouse Cove was becoming famous for its festivals and parades. We had something
scheduled every month, and the whole town got involved. Last year Jane and I had volunteered
to work on the committee, already comprised of Ellie Stewart, Pat Miles, and Sylvia
Davis, all of whom we’d known for years. The five of us had been having so much fun
putting the events together, it didn’t feel like work at all.