Ghost in Trouble (4 page)

“When I got to the balcony—”

She looked sardonic. “You flew, of course.”

I tamped down my immediate flare of irritation…on
the earth, not
of
the earth…
With an effort of will (Wiggins, are you applauding?), I was pleasant. “Not exactly. It's more immediate than that.” I disappeared, zoomed up, stood on the balcony ledge, reappeared, and looked down on Kay. I was clearly visible in the light from a lamp. I waved, then reversed the process. In another instant, I stood before her.

Her eyelashes fluttered.

The instantaneous switch from ground to balcony to ground obviously dazzled her. What fun.

She pressed fingers against her temples. “Hallucination. That's all that it is. Maybe champagne isn't good for me.”

I was impatient with her dogged rejection of my presence. Time was fleeting and action was essential. I began again, firmly. “When I reached the balcony, no one was there. I heard a door shut, but I was too late to see anyone. Maybe the police will be able to find some evidence.”

“The police.” She spoke in a considering tone, then gave an abrupt head shake. “I don't think—”

“Excuse me, is everything all right?” The puzzled call came from the upper terrace.

Kay's expression was grim. “Everything's just super, Laverne. Come on down.” She turned the flashlight toward the steps.

I
disappeared.

Kay drew in a sharp breath.

“Don't worry. I haven't left. We'll talk later.” My whisper was intended as a reassurance.

Regrettably, Kay stamped her foot. “I've got to stop imagining things.”

A tall, thin woman with dark hair in a coronet braid descended the steps. She walked majestically, as if pages might be to the left and right of her strewing flowers. She was either someone of importance or someone who wished to appear important. She was dressed all in black, a rayon blouse with a fringe and a billowing black skirt. A sharp nose and thin lips dominated her bony face. “Has there been an accident? I heard a huge crash. I thought something had happened in the garden, and I should go and see.”

Kay's smile was grim. “Did you indeed? Where's Ronald?”

Laverne ignored the question as her gaze swung back and forth, searching the shadows. “Where did that woman go?”

Kay's eyes widened. “You saw a woman?”

Laverne's stare was haughty. “Of course I saw her. However, I have no intention of intruding upon your meeting. I came down because I heard a big crash. What happened?”

Instead of answering, Kay swung the flashlight toward the heap of dirt and broken porcelain. A portion of broken marble bench protruded from the debris.

Laverne's lips parted. A hand touched at her throat. She was either shocked or a fine actress. Her gaze rose.

The emptiness of the pedestal was obvious in the moonlight.

“No wonder the sound was so loud.” She turned back to Kay. “How could that huge vase fall?”

“I don't know what made the vase”—there was an appreciable pause—“fall. In any event, no harm done.” Kay glanced at the broken bench. “I suppose someone can check the pedestal tomorrow. I don't see that there's anything we can do tonight. Accidents happen.”

I was stunned. What was Kay thinking? She knew the vase's fall was no accident.

Laverne's sharp gaze studied Kay.

Kay's lime green jacket was dirt-streaked. The right knee of her slacks was torn.

Laverne looked concerned. “Where were you when the vase fell?”

Kay's smile was grim. She pointed at the heap of dirt and broken pottery. “Ground zero. Luckily, I was able to jump out of the way.”

Did Kay believe she'd jumped? Was she actually convinced I was imaginary?

Kay bent and snagged a clod of dirt. She threw it into the pond
with so much force the frogs were startled into silence. “I'm not dead.” She sounded buoyant.

Laverne looked puzzled, as well she might. “Was that woman here, too? Where is she now?”

I didn't like the way the conversation was going. Could I count on Kay being discreet?

I slipped behind Laverne and swirled into visibility.

Kay saw me, of course. How could she not? I cupped my hand near my ear as if holding a telephone, mouthed, “Call the police.”

Kay stood as if turned to stone, her oval face shocked into immobility.

Laverne looked uneasy. “What's wrong?”

I pointed with a peremptory finger at my make-believe phone and mouthed, “Call 911.” It was a shame neither Laverne nor Kay apparently had a cell phone with them. Most people seemed to be tethered to them at all times, but I understood a cell phone might not be essential for a late-night walk in the garden. I didn't want to appear prideful, but I was au courant with new technologies after my previous visits to Adelaide as a Heavenly emissary. I knew about computers, too. However, I make no claim of expertise there.

Kay appeared shaken. She wavered unsteadily. Eyes wide, she looked past Laverne. “You aren't there.” She spoke with angry emphasis.

Laverne took a step forward. “Are you ill?”

I lost patience. I would have liked to stalk up to Kay and give her a good shake. Instead, I disappeared and turned toward the silent, dark house.

One of the delights of ghostly peregrinations is the ease of transport from place to place. Picture a destination and there you are.

I stood in total darkness. However, I have great faith in my comings and goings. I never doubted I was in the study of The
Castle. It was no great gamble to will myself there. What mansion didn't have a study? What study didn't have a telephone?

I lifted my hand in search of the wall switch and flicked it up. I went straight to the desk, picked up the handset, punched 911. I glanced at the ship's bell clock on the mahogany desk. Twenty minutes before one
A.M
.

“Adelaide Emergency Services.”

“There's been an attempted murder near the pond on the south side of The Castle.” I didn't bother with an address. Everyone in Adelaide knew The Castle. “Intended victim Kay Clark survived. No trace has been found of the attacker.”

I daintily replaced the handset.

As I expected, the telephone immediately rang. I didn't answer, of course. Someone would hear the peals and respond. I smiled in anticipation and spoke aloud:
“Laissez les bon temps rouler.”
I hoped Wiggins was impressed by my French.

I popped back to the garden.

Kay darted back and forth near the pond, calling out. “Where are you? Where did you go?”

Laverne hesitated, then spoke sharply. “Kay, I'm here. I haven't gone anywhere.”

Kay glared at her. “I know you're here.”

I swooped next to Kay, tapped her on the shoulder.

She stopped and stiffened.

I murmured, “The police will be here—”

A siren wailed.

Kay looked haunted.

“Oh, good, here they are. I think I'll watch from the parapet. See you later.” I couldn't resist a parting shot. “You might—or might not—see me.”

I landed on the third-floor balcony and sat on the ledge overlooking the drive. The fire truck was the first to arrive, lights
flashing. A patrol car and ambulance slammed to a stop within another two minutes. Lights flared in rooms on the first and second floors of The Castle.

The firemen waited next to their truck. The paramedics jumped lightly from their van. A chunky, middle-aged policeman, flashlight in one hand, thudded up the broad front steps to the massive entrance. A lithe policewoman, hand near her holster, followed. Her eyes swept the porch and then she turned to gaze at the drive. Her partner held a finger to the doorbell. “Police. Police.” His shout was loud and imperative.

The front porch lights came on as Kay and Laverne hurried around the side of the house. Kay was in the lead. Her expression was a mixture of shock and wariness.

The front door opened. A small woman with faded blond hair clutched at the lapels of her seersucker robe as she stepped onto the porch. Her voice lifted in fear. “What's happened? What's wrong?”

An older woman stepped carefully to the doorway, hand on the lintel. She stood with her face slightly turned as if trying to hear. She had strong features, a broad forehead, jutting nose, and firm chin. The porch light glittered on exceedingly thick-lensed eyeglasses. She had an aura of authority. “Diane, what has happened?” Her dressing gown was a deep mauve.

A plump woman hurried up the steps from the driveway. She had obviously dressed hastily in a wrinkled blue cotton top and jeans. Her auburn hair needed a trim. She might once have been pretty, but her rounded face now sagged, marred by deep-set lines and a defeated look. She stepped onto the porch. She was followed by a young woman in a light cotton robe. Tawny hair hung loose on her shoulders.

A stocky man in his late forties with silver hair and a Vandyke beard edged onto the porch past the older woman. He wore a
short-sleeved seersucker shirt and tan trousers. He looked immediately toward Laverne. I pegged him as the Ronald of whom Kay had inquired. His gaze at Laverne was curiously intent.

Last to arrive was a young man with thick brown hair and a broad, tanned face. He blinked sleepily. He was shirtless and barefoot in worn jeans.

The young woman and young man immediately glanced at each other, then quickly averted their gazes.

A muscular EMT with matching dragon tattoos on his forearms climbed the steps. “Anyone injured?”

At the bottom of the front steps, Kay held up her hand. “Wait a minute, everyone.” She looked toward the EMTs. “No one's hurt. We don't need you.” She looked at the helmeted and coated firefighters. “Or the fire truck.”

His face grim, the officer at the door looked down at her. “What's going on? We got a 911 call about attempted murder.”

“Murder?” The faded blonde swung around to glance at each in turn, then faced the policemen. “Everyone's here.”

Laverne pushed past Kay. “Go look on the terrace. A vase fell from the balcony and almost hit Kay. But who called the police?”

Exclamations sounded: “That must be what I heard.” “For God's sake, Kay, what were you doing on the terrace?” “How could a vase fall?” “I heard a crash.” “Did someone push it?” “That's ridiculous. Nobody could knock one of those vases over.”

Another siren sounded. An unmarked sedan pulled up behind the patrol car. Police Chief Sam Cobb swung out and walked swiftly toward the house. He hadn't changed much since I'd last seen him: heavyset, fiftyish, with grizzled hair and a blunt face, domed forehead, bold nose, square chin.

Cobb moved fast for a big man. He thudded rapidly up the steps. “Burton?”

The patrolman stood straight. “Nobody's hurt, Chief. We re
ceived a call claiming there was attempted murder.” He pulled a notebook from his pocket. “The intended victim was named Kay Clark.”

“I'm Kay Clark.” Kay hurried up the steps. “I can't imagine who made that call.” Her smile was full of charm. “There's obviously been some confusion. All of us”—she gestured at the group on the porch—“are fine. I suppose it was a prank call. Possibly the vase was toppled by a vandal. In any event, there is no need for any of you”—she waved her hand at the assorted vehicles—“to be concerned.”

Chief Cobb was firm. “A 911 call came from this number and it requires investigation. I'm sure all of you”—he looked from the middle-aged blonde to the older woman with the thick glasses and air of authority—“will be cooperative.”

The older woman, who obviously didn't see well, turned toward the sound of his voice. “We are happy to cooperate. I am Evelyn Hume. How can we assist you?”

“With your permission, we want to check the site from which the vase fell. If someone could show us?”

Evelyn was crisp. “Kay, since the call to the police apparently concerned you”—there was distinct reproof in her deep voice—“perhaps you will be kind enough to escort the gentlemen to the balcony. Diane will switch on the outside lights.” Evelyn Hume turned back to Chief Cobb. “Since the hour is late and the crash of the vase caused no harm, I'm sure that the rest of us will not be needed.”

Chief Cobb frowned. Obviously, he would have preferred to speak with the occupants of the house tonight. However, he had no clear evidence of crime, and he was dealing with one of Adelaide's most prominent families.

After an instant of silence, he said gruffly, “A search of the grounds will continue. If the results of the investigation indicate
that the fall of the vase was not accidental, I will pursue the investigation tomorrow.”

 

Lights now fully illuminated
the balcony. Chief Cobb studied the empty pedestal. He spoke rapidly to a slender young officer who made quick notes. “Possible chisel marks apparent on the pedestal. No cement particles on balcony. Vase may have been loosened earlier, resulting debris removed. Hammer and chisel likely needed. A crowbar may have been used to tip the loosened vase.” His gaze swept the balcony. “No tools on balcony. Fingerprint and film the site.”

“Yes, sir.” The young officer hurried toward the stairs.

Chief Cobb looked at Kay. “Did you call 911?”

“I did not. I have no explanation for that call. I assume the call was made in error.” Her expression was bemused, a woman obviously puzzled.

I was indignant. She appeared determined to block any investigation into the attack on her.

Cobb drew a small notebook and a pen from a back pocket. “The call came from the house. Who's staying here tonight?”

Kay folded her arms. “Since the call was in error, I fail to see the point of your question.”

“It's a misdemeanor to place a false 911 call. Until the origin of the call is explained, the investigation will continue.” His gaze was unrelenting.

Kay shrugged and spoke rapidly, as if in a hurry to answer and be done with his questions. “Evelyn Hume. Diane Hume, James's widow. Diane and James's son, Jimmy. Laverne and Ronald Phillips, friends of Diane. Margo Taylor, the housekeeper, and her daughter, Shannon Taylor, occupy a small cottage on the grounds.”

“Why were you in the garden?”

“I read late. I wasn't sleepy.” She sounded relaxed and untroubled. “I decided to take a stroll.”

Cobb looked both suspicious and puzzled. “Were you alone?”

“Yes. I walked down to the second terrace. It was lovely in the moonlight. I paused by the cul-de-sac that faces the pond. I heard a noise. I was turning to see and the vase landed behind me. My lucky night.”

Cobb glanced at her torn slacks. “How did you rip your slacks?”

Her eyes flared a little. If she'd faced the balcony and fallen forward, she would have been hit by the vase. “Everything happened so fast.” She made a deprecating gesture. “I suppose—yes, I think I was turning to look up and I realized something was falling and I whirled and stumbled toward the pond.”

“Did you see anyone on the balcony?”

“It was dark.”

“When you came to the front porch, you were with a tall, thin woman in black.”

“Laverne Phillips. She heard the crash and came to see.” The tension had eased from Kay's body. She knew the interview was almost over. Laverne Phillips had seen me with Kay, but I supposed that Kay doubted the police would speak to Laverne. Or, if they did, Kay would deny Laverne's claim of a redheaded woman. After all, the police would find it hard to prove I had been there. Kay obviously was willing to gamble.