Crowned and Moldering (18 page)

I climbed down from my truck cab and spotted Wade and two other men walking on the
path that led from the senior parking lot to the track field. Wade turned and saw
me and waved as I approached. He introduced the other two men as company engineers,
and we all shook hands.

For the next hour and a half, we walked the anticipated perimeter of the new parking
lot, pointing out grading and other issues. The size was going to be impressive. Unfortunately,
it would take up every bit of the landscaping and walkways to the very outer edge
of the track field. The new southern perimeter would leave only a few feet of pathway
between it and the tennis courts.

I was so glad Wade had agreed to be the point man on this job. His background was
in engineering, and he had more hands-on experience than I did with grading and leveling
land for pouring concrete and asphalt surfaces. I’d done plenty of smaller projects
around town, but it would be dumb of me to pretend I knew more than I did, rather
than handing off the job to the most qualified person. And I prided myself on being
smart.

Ms. Barney joined us as we were taking down the final measurements, just in time to
approve everything. “I went over the numbers with the original team from SolarLight,”
she said. “I’m not concerned about the landscaping that borders the track field or
the tennis courts. It’s more important to get the parking situation worked out.”

“I’m always happy to lay down more asphalt,” I assured her. “And you did say you were
moving a lot of the flowers and plants to other areas, right?”

“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “Unfortunately, our students and parents will complain
a lot more about the lack of parking than the lack of pretty flowers.”

“I guess I see their point.”

“The students will still have our beautiful front lawn to enjoy,” she said, “so I’m
willing to sacrifice a little back here. And as long as you leave a narrow path around
both sports areas, we’ll be okay.”

“It’s a deal,” I said, smiling.

*   *   *

That afternoon, while Wade, Carla, and I were meeting to juggle crew assignments,
order supplies, and line up our asphalt subcontractor, my cell phone rang.

I saw Eric’s number and was almost afraid to answer it, wondering what new horrors
the police chief intended to pass along. But I braced myself and said hello.

“Hey, Shannon,” he said, his deep voice sounding so much calmer than earlier today,
thank goodness. “Forgot to mention when you were here that Mac’s house is no longer
a crime scene. You and your guys are free to start work there whenever you want.”

“Thank you so much, Eric.” We chatted about nothing in particular for another moment;
then I hung up and shared the news with my foremen.

“It’s about time,” Carla said. “I know you’re anxious to get back to work there, and
Mac must be champing at the bit.”

“That’s for sure,” I said, relieved to know that Mac’s lighthouse mansion was finally
on the road to becoming a real home for him. “I’ll call him as soon as we’re finished
here.”

*   *   *

That night I invited Mac and Callie over for pasta and salad. Mac brought a bottle
of wine. Callie had sparkling water—her favorite beverage, she said—and we toasted
to the future success of the lighthouse-mansion rehab.

Robbie and Tiger were banished to just beyond the doorway, as usual. It was for everyone’s
own good, because anytime I had other people helping to prepare food in the kitchen,
the little ones would invariably trip someone up in their relentless quest for food
droppings.

They were hardly starved for attention, though, since Callie darted over to pet them
every other minute.

“Uncle Mac started writing that article today,” she said. “The one about the bones.”

I turned and gazed at Mac, who was stirring the red sauce in the big pot on the stove.
“So you sold it.”

“I did,” he said with a grin. “They won’t actually print it until everything’s been
resolved. I wouldn’t want the story to sway a jury.”

“No,” I agreed. “But I bet it helped sell it when you told them that the scene of
the crime was your own house.”

“It definitely sealed the deal,” he said, grinning. “I love all the macabre aspects
of finding bones in the basement and I plan to play it to the hilt. I mean, what all-American,
hard-boiled mystery author wouldn’t be intrigued by the fact that his new house turned
out to be a grisly murder scene?”

I glanced at Callie. “See what I mean?”

“I know. He’s totally
not
creeped out about the bones. It’s weird.”

Mac laughed shortly, but then sobered. “Please don’t get me wrong. The real story
centers on Lily Brogan. What brought her to the mansion? Who were the important people
in her life? And who was responsible for killing her? She was a beautiful young girl
who died tragically. I’d like to make the article a sort of homage to her, but I didn’t
know her. You did, Irish. So I’m wondering if you’ll consent to my interviewing you.”

I stopped slicing tomatoes to gaze at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. Sometime in the next few days, if you have time, I’d like to sit down
and talk with you.”

“About Lily?”

“About everything that was going on back then. Not only at the high school, but all
over town. The news, the politics, the gossip. I need some local background. I plan
to do plenty of research and due diligence and talk to others, including the police,
but I figure you know the history of just about everyone in town.”

“Well, not everyone.”

He gave me an indulgent smile. “You know the people Lily knew.”

I thought about Eric and what he would say about this. It was easy to conjure up an
image of the police chief scowling at me, and it wasn’t pretty. I was always happy
to help Mac, but since Eric had taken me into his confidence, I would have to walk
a very thin line.

“I’d be thrilled to help you,” I said.

Mac had been watching me and now he grinned. “But you had to think it through for
a minute. How come? Is it because of Sean?”

“He’s part of it.” I set three long green onions on the wooden surface and began to
slice them into thin rounds. “But also I’ve sort of been doing the same thing for
Eric. You know, giving him some background on who was around back then.”

Without asking, Callie pulled a knife from the drawer and joined me at the chopping
block to start cutting up the cucumber I’d picked that afternoon.

I beamed at her. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. It’s not fair that you’re doing all the work.”

“I don’t mind at all, but it’s always more enjoyable with others around.”

“Back at home, I don’t get to help in the kitchen, and I totally love cooking—or trying
to, anyway. So this is fun for me.”

Not to be left out, Mac grabbed a head of fresh romaine, broke off the leaves, and
washed them in the sink. Moving in next to me, he tore the leaves into smaller bits
and added them to the salad bowl.

“Would you feel uncomfortable sharing the same information with me that you shared
with Eric?” he asked.

I thought about it and concluded that all I’d really given Eric were names of people
who’d been around back then. Names that Mac could find by himself, if he had a week
to scour old yearbooks in the library. That would be a waste of his time. “No. I’ll
be happy to share the information with you.”

“Did Eric reveal any confidential police evidence to you?”

Boy, did he ever,
I thought, then frowned at Mac. Was I transparent or what? “Why do you ask?”

“Because you seemed troubled at first, and if it’s not about the information you gave
him, then I’ll bet it’s about the confidential stuff he told you.”

I had to play back what he’d just said twice before I understood it. “Okay, yes. You’re
right.”

“So now I understand your initial hesitation. Believe me, I won’t ask you to betray
Eric’s confidence.”

“Good, because I wouldn’t do it.”

He grinned. “That’s okay. I’ll just talk to Eric about it.”

“Fine, but please don’t tell him I said anything. Just leave my name out of it. He
already has enough of a problem trusting me.”

Mac laughed and slung his arm around me. “Don’t panic, baby. I’ll keep your secrets,
just as you’re keeping his.”

“Thank you.” With him smiling down at me and his arm around my shoulders, it felt . . .
cozy. Warm and wonderful. I really did enjoy spending time with Mac and, let’s face
it, he wasn’t hard to look at.

“Besides, I don’t know what his problem is. You’re the most trustworthy person I’ve
ever met.”

I stared at him for a long moment. “Thank you.”

He touched his glass to mine. “No. Thank
you
.”

Callie had been gazing back and forth at Mac and me, until she looked as if she were
at a tennis tournament. “You two just had the most totally grown-up conversation I’ve
ever heard. You didn’t yell or anything, and you ended up agreeing with each other.”

“That’s what grown-ups do,” Mac said, winking at me.

“I don’t think so,” she said, looking a little confused. “Karl and Mavis mostly just
grunt and swear around each other. Unless I’m in the room, and then they pretty much
clam up.”

Mac tried to hide his amusement. “They have their own special way of reaching consensus.”

I turned away from both of them to make up the dressing for the salad. I could barely
breathe after hearing Mac call me . . . what he’d called me.
Baby
. I exhaled slowly. It didn’t mean anything; just another one of those words of endearment
people tossed around. But then to hear him say he thought I was trustworthy? That
was better than a declaration of love. Especially after enduring Eric’s suspicions
for so long.

Was I blowing it all out of proportion? Was there something wrong with me? Why would
having someone say he trusted me mean so much to me? Wouldn’t I rather be adored for
my looks or my intelligence or my business savvy than my trustworthiness? It sounded
so dry.

But it wasn’t dry at all. Trust was important.

The water was about to boil over, so I set those questions aside for the time being.
Eventually I would have to figure out just how much Mac Sullivan meant to me and what
I planned to do about it. If anything.

I stirred the linguini into the boiling water and listened to Mac and Callie teasing
each other. Their voices faded to the background as I went back to pondering my strange
love life—or lack thereof. If I were being truthful, I would admit that I’d recently
considered taking things with Mac to a new level. But as I gazed at his niece now,
I saw that my rather shaky plan would have to be put on hold.

Callie was a sweet girl, but she was going to be a handful for as long as she was
staying with Mac. He was completely responsible for her right now, and I knew that
it scared him to death like nothing else ever had. Okay, maybe not
scared
as in
terrified
, but he was at least worried. And he should be. Taking care of a teenager was going
to be a lot of work, and I wasn’t all that sure Mac was used to having to share his
time.

I gazed at Callie’s big blue eyes and the long blond hair streaming down her back.
The boys at school had to have fallen halfway in love with her by now. That would
be a challenge for any parent—or uncle, in Mac’s case—but doubly so for one with a
beautiful girl like Callie. No wonder he’d expressed so much worry the other night.

What am I going to do with her?
he’d probably wondered.
I love her, but what do I know about taking care of a teenager?

And suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I was staring at Lily’s face. She had been a beautiful
girl, too, and half the boys had been in love with her, as well. What a difference
it might have made if her parents had been there for her, supervising her dates more
carefully and worrying over where she might’ve been spending the night.

Time flipped back to the present. What would happen if there was someone like Cliff
Hogarth in one of Callie’s classes? What if he developed an interest in Callie? Would
she be able to distinguish the creeps from the good guys? Sometimes it was hard to
tell. What if she ran into trouble? What if some smooth-talking boy lured her to some
dreadful place, like the deserted lighthouse mansion? I hated to think of anything
happening to Callie. And I hated to think that my beloved little town might have more
tragedy in store for it.

I blinked and noticed Mac and Callie staring at me.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, amused.

“Sorry.” I grimaced. “Guess I zoned out for a minute.”

“It’s because you work so hard,” Callie said sympathetically.

I busied myself with dressing the salad and putting the bowl on the table, then turned
and smiled. “Speaking of work, I’ll be working at the high school every day for the
next week or so. That means I’ll be able to give you a ride in the mornings and drive
you home each night.”

“That’d be great, Shannon. Thanks!”

Callie was happy, but Mac was looking at me like I’d gone a little crazy. I didn’t
care. I knew Mac would be there for her, and so would I. And nothing was going to
happen to her on my watch. Not in my town. Never again.

Early the next morning, I spent some time on the phone with Carla and Wade, reconfiguring
our crew once again in order to work around my new obsession. Namely, Callie. For
the next five days, I would be working with Wade, Sean, and Douglas on the parking-lot
project. Carla would be swinging from site to site, mainly supervising the lighthouse-mansion
crew and two of our other big rehab jobs. We had several smaller jobs, as well, and
Carla would make sure they were completed by one of the other guys within the next
week or so.

“I was thinking,” I said. “I might work on the parking lot in the mornings and shoot
over to Mac’s or Emily’s place in the middle of the day to help out for a few hours.
I just need to be back at the high school by four-ish.”

“Sounds good, boss,” Wade said.

Was he placating me? Was I turning into an eccentric diva? I hoped not. I was just
a little obsessed with Callie’s safety, but it would pass. As soon as she was back
home with her bodyguards.

“The thing is,” I said, “I hate to shuffle the guys around at random. So if you think
someone is happier doing one job rather than another, we can take that into consideration.”

“Don’t worry about it, Shannon,” Carla said. “The guys are happy to do whatever needs
doing. I think it’s important that both you and Wade are at the school during the
first few days of the project. SolarLight should know how concerned you are about
getting it done right.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Carla. You give the best pep talks.”

“That’s because they come from the heart.”

“You can’t see me,” Wade said, “but I’m rolling my eyes right now.”

“No, I can’t see you,” Carla said. “But I can hear them rolling in their sockets.”

“That counts,” I said.

“You bet,” Carla said. “Okay, I’ve got my tablet ready. Let’s go over priorities at
Mac’s place.”

I checked my own list. “Normally we’d start with the basement, but I’m a little concerned
about doing anything down there yet. We never inspected it the day of the walkthrough,
so let’s leave it alone for now.”

“I’m more than happy to wait,” Carla said, her tone somber.

The image of those bones scattered on the basement floor flashed through my mind.
I shuddered and tried to shake off the memory so I could concentrate on the notes
I’d made on my tablet. “Okay, since the kitchen is a complete remodel, let’s start
in there. You can tear out all the cabinets, take the walls down to the studs, and
get rid of the linoleum, but leave the dumbwaiter alone for now. I want to maintain
the integrity of the shaft and the inner workings until we know if Mac wants to replace
it or not.”

“Don’t touch the dumbwaiter,” she murmured as she wrote down instructions. “Sounds
good. Kitchen’ll take us a day or two, at least.”

“And we talked about widening the kitchen door and putting in French doors, but don’t
do anything yet. I’ll ask Mac if that’s still what he wants. Since the house turned
into a crime scene, we haven’t gone back and firmed up all the work he wants done.”

“I understand. Should we do anything with the exterior?”

“Sure.” I scanned down the list and also checked the photos I’d taken. “One of the
guys can remove all the shutters. We’ve got a couple of broken ones on the back windows,
but they’ll all have to come off eventually. We’ll want to scrape and sand them all
before we paint.”

“Shutters,” Carla murmured, and wrote it down on her list.

“The chimney on the north side of the house is missing some bricks. I’m not sure why,
so could you inspect it for possible earthquake damage? I’m afraid we might have to
take down the whole thing and rebuild it according to the new regulations.”

“Might as well plan on that, boss,” Wade said.

“Yeah.” I made another note. “Oh, and, Carla, if you get a chance, can you check the
windowpanes on the solarium for any cracks or other damage?”

“Got it.”

“And we’ll want to get rid of that tacky latticework covering the underbelly at some
point. And a number of planks on the porch are rotted. But you guys won’t get to that
this week.”

“We might not pull them up, but I can do an inventory of the ones that’ll need replacement.
I’ll also check the balusters and handrails.”

“Can you measure the balusters while you’re there? They looked a little too far apart
to me.”

“I’ll check them.”

Some states had laws that required balusters to be less than four inches apart, and
I abided by that. Four inches was the approximate size of an infant’s head, and I
didn’t want any babies getting their heads stuck inside the porch railings. Not on
my watch.

I scrolled down my list. “There’s a root cellar around the side of the kitchen. No
idea what’s down there, but if you can convince one of the guys to explore it, let
me know what he finds.”

Please, no more bones,
I thought, but didn’t say aloud.

“You got it,” Carla said. “I think all of this will keep us busy until you can get
back out there.”

“I really appreciate it, Carla,” I said. “Hey, Wade, I’ll see you in a little while.”

I ended the call a few seconds later, in time to see Callie standing outside my kitchen
door, ready for school. Mac waved from the balcony as we took off in the truck. He
had been willing to have me drive Callie back and forth only because I was going to
be working at the school anyway. But he didn’t want me to feel obligated. For now,
his plan was to write in the mornings and be available after school for Callie.

I figured after a few days the poor girl would start complaining about all the attention
I was giving her, but until that happened, she seemed to be enjoying my company. We
chitchatted and laughed all the way to campus.

I smiled as I parked the truck. This arrangement was going to work out just fine.
At least I thought so, until we split up at the senior parking lot. I was crossing
the blacktop to meet Wade when I happened to turn to watch Callie heading toward the
main school building. From out of nowhere, two boys approached her.

“Oh my God. No,” I said, and waved my hands in the air, as if I were shooing away
flies. “No. Get away from her.”

Wade had joined me by then and started laughing. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me? Nothing’s wrong with me.” I pointed toward Callie. “It’s those boys.”

“They look perfectly normal,” he said, staring after the animated threesome.

“They always look normal from afar,” I grumbled, then forced myself to focus. “Let’s
get to work.”

*   *   *

The next day I left the job site early to meet my girlfriends for lunch at the Scottish
Rose, Emily’s tea shop on the town square. Jane Hennessey, Lizzie Logan, and Marigold
Starling were already seated at a table in the charming back room when I arrived at
the restaurant.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said as I gave each woman a hug.

“You had to come the farthest,” Jane said. Her B and B was only three short blocks
from Emily’s shop.

“Besides, you’re not really late,” Lizzie said, patting my shoulder. She and her husband,
Hal, owned Paper Moon, a book and paper shop that faced the town square, a few doors
down from the tea shop. “It’s only five minutes past noon.”

“I hope you can take time to relax and chat,” Marigold said in her usual gentle way.
She and her aunt Daisy owned the beautiful Crafts and Quilts shop, also on the town
square. Many of the handcrafted toys and quilts she sold were made to order by her
Amish family and friends and shipped out to her from the Pennsylvania countryside.

“It’s our busiest time,” Emily explained, after setting a teapot down in the center
of the table. “So please just enjoy yourselves and I’ll try to swing by to catch up
on things as I can.”

Lizzie grabbed her hand. “We need to meet at someone’s house next time so Emily doesn’t
always have to miss the latest scoop.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Emily said lightly. “Just take note of all the juiciest gossip
and fill me in when I come back around.”

“I think Shannon’s got the latest news,” Jane said, reaching for the teapot to pour
for everyone. “Why don’t you start with the lighthouse mansion and go from there?”

“Oh my God, Shannon,” Lizzie whispered. “We heard it was Lily Brogan.”

“Did you know her in school?” I asked. Lizzie was five years older than me and had
been my babysitter when I was little.

“Barely,” she said. “She was younger, so our paths didn’t cross much. But I knew the
family.”

Jane frowned. “Yes, the family wasn’t a happy one.”

“Tell me about them,” Marigold said. She had been raised back east in the Amish world
and had moved to Lighthouse Cove years ago to live with her aunt. So even though she
hadn’t grown up locally, she’d been here long enough to know many of the people we
were talking about.

I gave her a brief history of Lily, Sean, and Amy and what they’d gone through as
the children of a violent father and an alcoholic mother.

“That’s just tragic,” Marigold said. “Sean is such a nice man. He comes into the store
sometimes to buy toys and gifts for his niece and nephew.”

“Amy’s kids,” I said, nodding.

“Yes. The kids are adorable. They’ve all been in the store once or twice, as well.
I’m sorry for their loss.”

“I’m really concerned about Sean,” I said. “He spent so many years holding on to the
hope that Lily would return one day, and now to find out that she won’t? Well, he’s
been through the wringer. I don’t want him to become disheartened and give up on life.
I wish there was something I could do.”

“I could set him up on a date with a nice girl,” Lizzie said.

We groaned as a group. Lizzie was at it again, wanting everyone to be as blissfully
happy and married as she was. And while all of us could admit to wanting that someday,
going on countless blind dates was not the way we chose to get there.

“Lizzie, a date isn’t the answer to everything,” Jane said.

“But it’ll get him out of the house,” she said. “It’ll expand his horizons. He’ll
take a shower. Wear nice clothes. Get a haircut. Okay, go ahead and laugh, but simple
activities like these are good for people. They civilize us. And if you’re worried
about him getting depressed, the first thing you’ve got to do is get him out of the
house.”

“You’re probably right about that,” I conceded. “But you need to be careful who you
set him up with. I mean, to all of us Sean is adorable and big and strong and smart
and charming, but let’s face it: right now, he’s not at his best. So you’ve got to
wonder how desperate a girl would have to be to date a miserably unhappy construction
worker.”

Lizzie’s forehead furrowed at that. “Okay, let me think about this.”

“So, Shannon,” Marigold said. “I haven’t heard yet how you found the body.”

“It wasn’t really a body,” I said, and winced. I quickly checked the nearby tables
to make sure nobody was listening in. “It was just bones. Mac and the guys and I were
doing our walk-through of the lighthouse mansion to see what work needed to be done.”
I held up my hand. “Everybody swallow their tea before I go on.” I waited for a moment.
“Okay, I opened up the dumbwaiter door, and the sudden updraft caused the rotted pulley
mechanism to snap. The bones fell three floors to the basement.”

“What are you saying?” Marigold whispered.

I gritted my teeth. “Her body had been inside the dumbwaiter all this time.”

Jane had already heard the story, but she still looked pale.

Marigold blinked repeatedly. “Oh, my goodness.”

“I don’t trust dumbwaiters,” Lizzie whispered, shaking her head.

“I beg your pardon?” Emily said. “Are you calling one of my staff a dumb waiter?”

We couldn’t help but laugh. Lizzie hastened to explain herself as Emily placed two
three-tiered trays of tea sandwiches, scones, and pastries on the table.

“This looks beautiful, Emily,” Jane said. “Can you sit for a half second?”

“I’ve actually heard all about Shannon’s dreadful discovery,” she said, giving my
shoulder a light squeeze. “So I’ll let you enjoy your lunch and be back around shortly.”

She started to walk away, but stopped abruptly. I heard her gasp, and I turned to
see what had caught her attention. That’s when I noticed that Gus Peratti, my auto
mechanic and Emily’s ghost whisperer, had just walked into the shop. I smiled and
waved at him, but he didn’t acknowledge me.

Every other women in the place saw him, too, and half of them were waving to no avail.

He wore a tight black T-shirt that showed off his tanned, muscular arms, along with
faded jeans and scuffed boots. He was all male and rugged, and looked completely out
of place surrounded by the feminine, mint-green walls of the tea shop.

I watched him approach Emily and heard him ask, “Can I see the kitchen now?”

“Of course.” Frowning, Emily led the way, and the two disappeared behind the swinging
door.

“I wonder what that’s all about,” Jane said. She’d grown up with Gus, just as I had.

“Maybe something mechanical is wrong with one of her appliances,” Lizzie suggested.

We all reached for another round of sandwiches and chatted some more as we ate. I
told them about Mac’s adorable niece, Callie, and they all wanted to meet her, so
I promised to arrange a barbecue one of these days. Then the conversation drifted
to the problem of Cliff Hogarth moving back in town.

“Cliff Hogarth is a bad apple, Shannon,” Lizzie said between bites. “Try to avoid
him.”

“I’d love to, but he keeps bad-mouthing me to people I care about. I don’t know how
to handle it.”

“He’s such a blowhard,” Jane muttered.

“I wonder if there’s some way to get him to leave me alone.” I turned to Lizzie. “Was
Hal a friend of his?”

“No, Hal can’t stand him.”

I sighed. “Hal has good taste.”

“I know Cliff is a jerk, but he was always nice to me,” Jane admitted.

I frowned at her. “I can’t remember. Did he ever ask you out?”