Guidebook to Murder (14 page)

I went to a side window. I could just see Toby's aging Dakota truck parked on the street. I poured the last of the coffee. “I'm taking this out to Toby. The wine's in the fridge and the glasses are—”

Aunt Jackie cut me off. “I can find wineglasses. Just hurry back. I'll watch you from the window.”

“I don't think anyone is going to grab me in the driveway.” I pulled on my sweat jacket that had found a new home on a hook behind the kitchen door. The house had been making me feel at home one room at a time. Whenever I finished painting and moving out Miss Emily's stuff, the room seemed to welcome me. One room after another, the house was becoming my home. If I could just stay alive long enough to finish the renovations, I might be able to stop calling it Miss Emily's house.

The night air felt chilled from the breeze coming off the ocean. Once the sun set, the California night air, though still warm, had a feeling of wetness to it. I had heard once that the fog that blanketed the coast around San Francisco watered the gigantic redwoods upland on the mountains. I never considered the morning fog a bother on my commute again. The fog had a purpose. I pulled my jacket closer and watched the steam from the coffee waft through the air as I walked.

I could barely see the truck as I zigzagged through the piles of wood for the fence and siding stacked in my driveway. I wished I'd turned on the front light before I had stepped outside. Or grabbed a flashlight. Navigating through this mess was like trying to walk through a junkyard, not the effect I wanted for the house.

Kevin needed to finish up the fence tomorrow so that I could show some progress on the restoration. I had less than three weeks left before the court date and I wanted the council off my back. I was passing by the front fence when I noticed that the fence wasn't there anymore. The rails were there, but the planks that had crisscrossed the front of the house were missing.

What the hell? I walked closer and found the missing planks. They were broken in two, lying on the ground next to the fence. I picked up one of the broken halves and walked over to the truck. How could Toby have let this happen? I rapped on his window with the jagged piece of wood.

“Toby! Do you see this? I thought you were supposed to be watching out for me?”

No answer. I opened the truck door; the dome light illuminated the empty cab. No Toby. I glanced inside the truck. His keys hung in the ignition, and a bag with what smelled like one of Lille's burgers and fries sat on the bench seat. No Toby.

A chill ran up my spine. First Amy, then Toby? Could he be chasing down whoever ripped up my fence? I let the door shut quietly and glanced around the empty street. No one, no cars, nothing. South Cove's business district closed at five on weeknights, with Lille's staying open until seven. But Lille's sat at the other end of town. None of the shops on this side had even a flicker of light shining from the inside of their buildings. I set the coffee on the top of Toby's truck and sprinted back to the house, dodging construction materials as I went.

A light encircled me. “Stop right there,” a male voice boomed out.

I could see the back porch, but reaching it would be impossible. I turned to the voice.

“Miss Gardner? What are you doing out here?” The light lowered, and I could see Toby coming up the driveway.

Relief flooded through my body and my knees almost gave out. “I came to give you coffee. But my fence?” I pointed over to the front of the house.

“Yeah, I saw it. I dozed off for a moment. Lille's cheeseburgers do that to me.” Toby walked over next to me, a sheepish grin on his face. “When I woke up, there he was just tearing off planks. I tried to stop him, but he's quick.”

“Someone did that on purpose?” Tears threatened. It was bad enough that I only had three weeks to fix this place, now I had someone undoing what was already completed. I'd never win.

Greg's truck flew into the driveway, coming to a stop just in front of the Dumpster. He jumped out. “What the heck, Toby? Can't you handle one stakeout without screwing up?” Greg walked toward us. “And what are you doing out of the house?” He took me by the arm and started toward the back door. “I'll be back to talk to you in a second,” he growled at Toby.

“I can walk.” I tried to shrug my arm out of his death grip. Geesh, never make this guy mad.

He opened the back door and pushed me inside. He stayed in the doorway. “Are the rest of the doors and windows locked?”

Aunt Jackie jumped up from the table, nearly knocking over her glass of wine. “I'll go check.”

“Wait,” I called after the retreating body of my aunt, but if she heard me she ignored me. I straightened my posture, shooting an icy stare Greg's way. “I'm not an idiot. All of the doors and windows were locked.”

“And yet I find you outside and this door completely unlocked when we came in.” Greg leaned up against the doorway.

“I was taking Toby some coffee. Sue me for trying to be nice.”

“Jill, did you ever think that what happened to your fence could have really been aimed at you? That someone could be trying to change the outcome of the will and what happens to this house?”

“I didn't.”

“You didn't think. I'm not an idiot, either. I know the council has eyes on this house for some new development, but, Jill, if you are going to stay safe, you have to listen to me. A help-me-help-you sort of thing.”

Greg seemed tired, but I had to know. “You think the council had something to do with this?”

“The council, the mayor, that developer, Crystal, or even George Jones, the list of suspects isn't shrinking as the investigation goes on, it's growing.” Greg shook his head. “I'm tired, and I've got to go knock some sense into Toby. Lock the door behind me and stay inside.” He shut the door but stayed right outside looking at me through the window until I came over and locked the door and the dead bolt.

“Everything's still locked up, Detective King.” Aunt Jackie came into the kitchen. Her face fell when she saw I was alone in the room. “He's gone?”

“For now.” I went to dump my wine out into the sink and rinsed the glass. “Hey, why don't you bunk with me tonight? There's a spare room upstairs.”

“I have to be up early to open the shop.”

“Not a problem.” I figured I wouldn't get much sleep tonight, but knowing Aunt Jackie would be safe with me would help. Although I wasn't sure if either one of us was totally safe here, at least Greg knew where to find us.

A
fter watching Aunt Jackie drive off to open the store the next morning, I turned back to the overstuffed living room. I'd already called Kevin, the fence guy, to come give me an estimate for the insurance company and repair the fence. I didn't have time to wait around for the bureaucracy to approve the estimates. I'd just have to take my chances I'd be at least partially reimbursed. Time to finish off the new study and start on the living room. The harder I worked, the less likely I would fret about the vandalism and the threats. No one would scare me away from my house.

I walked into the study. The colors glowed, warm and inviting. I could just see the love seat with a tall marble end table on one side, a green droopy plant taking up most of the table. Miss Emily's desk would go next to the window. All I needed to do was scrub down the floor and move in what furniture I did have. Then time to go shopping.

The clock struck noon by the time I had stripped away the paint cloths, cleaned the floor, and gone over it with a sealant that should help protect the wood. I was done with the room until the floor dried. I went into the kitchen to make a sandwich, and Miss Emily's painting caught my eye. I needed to bring in another one for the study before my art thief cleaned out the rest of my supply. I wasn't sure getting back stolen art was as easy as it seemed in the spy novels I read. I quickly made up a PB and J and took the sandwich out with me to the shed, grabbing the shed key from the basket on the kitchen counter.

A beautiful fall day greeted me; the birds were singing in the trees. But all I heard as I walked out was the hammering of siding being replaced on the front of the house. I saw Kevin's crew had already cleaned up the wreckage of the fence and had a few new boards on. He saw me in the backyard and raced over to meet me.

“I guess you noticed we're starting to replace the damaged section. I've got guys in the back finishing up there, as well. If your friends leave you alone, I should be out of here today.” Kevin gave me one of his giant smiles that always came with a larger bill or an extension-of-time request. Today was no exception. “I left the estimate for the damage on the front porch for you. I knocked but you had that stereo rocking.”

“Yeah, I've been working on the study.” I glanced down at my outfit. An oversized man's shirt I'd kept when I threw my husband out and a pair of capris that had seen better days. Not a go-to-town outfit by far.

“You heading out back?” Kevin nodded to the shed.

“I'm looking for something.”

“Can I walk with you? I want to show you something.”

I couldn't imagine what he wanted to show me, unless the vandal had torn down fencing in the back, as well. We walked in silence toward the small creek that ran through the back of the property behind the shed. I'd never been this far back in the field and the ground sloped downward a few feet past the creek. It was like I had my own forest back here. A dirt path disappeared back into the trees.

“Where is the property line?” I glanced back, toward the house, but all I could see was the top of the roof.

“About ten feet that way. It looks bigger than it is.” Kevin pointed toward the dirt path. “Come on, it's this way.”

“What's this way?” I asked Kevin, but he had already gone into the trees. My guard went up. “Kevin?” I called. No answer. “Bad idea, Jill. Very, very bad idea,” I whispered as I headed through the trees. Following the path for a few feet, I broke through the tree stand and saw Kevin, sitting on a four-foot-tall rock wall, grinning.

“Okay, what did you want to show me?” I was tired of the games.

“This!” Kevin patted the wall. “I had heard rumors when we were kids, but no one was brave enough to sneak back here. I can't believe I didn't come back here when I measured out the fence line.”

I glanced around the area. All I saw was the wall and what seemed to be a crumbling fireplace up next to the tree stand. The wall appeared to have been whitewashed, like, a thousand years ago. “Was this an old homestead?”

“Girl, you don't know anything about South Cove, do you?” Kevin hopped off the wall and walked the broken outline of the old house.

“I know enough. Like the fact my shop is in the original bank building built in 1860.” Now I sounded like one of the council's promotional flyers.

“Nah, I mean the original South Cove. The one before the city was built out there.” Kevin stopped to gaze over the area.

“I'm confused. The town before the town?” I sat down on the rock wall. The area around me consisted of a small meadow surrounded on all sides by a forest of trees. My house was on the east side of town away from the ocean. But on clear days from my bedroom, I could glimpse the Pacific shimmering in the distance. Anywhere in town was within biking distance to the public shore on the highway. Another good fact for my tourist trade, not that I've ever personally taken the bike ride.

Kevin turned, his eyes gleaming. “A mission existed before the town. A Spanish mission tied to the Spanish crown. As a kid, I heard stories about how the mission became the hiding place for Aztec gold Cortez stole from Mexico.”

“And why wouldn't they just send it back to Spain? Your story has a few holes. And seriously, like the lost city of gold even existed.” I tried to remember my California history, but fourth grade had been a long time ago.

“They couldn't take a chance on shipping the gold because of the Barbary pirates.” Kevin's voice went up in pitch when he got excited. Right now, he was a soprano. “Whether or not the Aztec's lost city existed, this wall is proof that the mission existed. You are standing on a piece of California's history.” Kevin sat down on the wall, out of breath.

The wall area looked kind of pretty. I wondered if I could set up a patio out here, a place to hide in plain sight with a book or two. I could put a fridge in the shed for cool drinks. The birds gently chirping in the background and the air a mixed smell of salt air and the pine trees surrounding the spot. For a second, I felt happy. Then I remembered the council's thirty-day summons. Putting my landscaping daydreams aside, I asked, “You think you can get this all done by the end of next week?” I would have liked to get at least one local contractor off my personal payroll.

Kevin shook his head. Inwardly, I groaned. This would not be good news. “We're going to have to get the historical commission out here to verify the site and give us permission to finish up the fence.”

Another delay. No way would I meet the council's deadline. I'd have to get a lawyer and appeal for more time. “How long is that going to take? I'm on a deadline here.”

“Two, maybe three weeks. They'll send someone out to do an initial survey, but if this is the lost mission, you'll have people in your backyard for months, maybe years. I'm sure once they verify the site, they will want to have the fencing completed as soon as possible. Maybe even do an upgrade.” Kevin had a gleam in his eyes.

I wasn't sure if the gleam came from finding missing treasure or a possible increase in the fencing contract. I'd bet on the latter being the source of his joy, but I'd become cynical around my contractors lately. I sat down on the rock wall and ran my hand over the rough edges of the stone. “It doesn't look big enough to be a mission. Not like the one I visited in Santa Barbara.”

“My high school history teacher was an expert on the mission period. She said that when the measles epidemic wiped out most of the Native American tribe, the chief decided that the mission had been cursed. They tore down the mission and carried off the stones, scattering the pieces over miles so the mission could never be rebuilt. Most of the friars were killed, but a few escaped and headed to the San Luis Obispo de Tolosa Mission down the coast.” Kevin recited the history like high school had been last week rather than more than fifteen years ago.

“You remember all that from a class?” In all the time he'd worked on the house, I'd never heard him talk anything but fencing products and sports. He was an ESPN junkie.

Kevin grinned. “It's the only thing I remember from high school except for the basketball season our team took state. Miss Kelly was closer to our age and hot. She used our class more for research for her master's degree in the local legends about the mission. Everyone had at least one story to tell that his or her family has passed down through the generations. At least the locals.”

“Sounds like a fun class.” Cost estimates on a new, higher fence were running through my head. “The delay will push me past the council's deadline. I guess I'd been a fool to ever think I could save the house.” I glanced around the area, my dreams of a secluded patio slipping away before my eyes.

Kevin stared at me. “You don't get it, do you? If this is the mission, and I think it is, the historical society is going to want to preserve this find. If not, they still will take months to determine the site's historical value. Either way, the council is going to have to give you more time. It's rare to find something like this that hasn't already been destroyed or poached for any historical value at all. This mission has to be preserved.”

Hope seeped into my bones. “Do you want to make the call to the historical commission or should I?”

After being transferred six times, I finally reached someone who promised a surveyor out to the house on Friday. When I asked if they would call the council, the woman had been vague. “The surveyor will make a determination of future commitments for the site within two weeks of the visit.” In bureaucratic code, don't get your hopes up.

I made a second call to Jimmy Marcum and scheduled an appointment for nine on Wednesday. I wasn't going to wait for fate to intervene. This time I would force the council to back off, even if it cost me all the money Miss Emily left me to do it. I didn't have the money last week, so if I didn't have it tomorrow, it would be no big deal.

Kevin had taken off after the first call but promised his crew would have everything done except what he now called the mission site tomorrow. “I'll be here on Friday when the history guy shows up. Do you mind if I bring my camera? This is going to be South Cove history I can show my kids when they're older.”

“Knock yourself out.” I watched as he danced a modified version of the electric slide on his way out of the kitchen. You would have thought I'd just promised him a million dollars the way he acted. I glanced at the clock. Three o'clock. If I hurried, I could get changed and head over to Bakerstown to pick out furniture for my new study. I headed upstairs.

After showering, I pulled on a blue flowered sundress I'd found in my closet and some cute but sturdy sandals. I had to either do laundry tomorrow or stop by my apartment for more clothes. The sundress had been my only option.

I locked the front door when I heard a voice behind me. “Going somewhere?”

I knew that voice. “Heading into town for some shopping and dinner.” I turned and almost fell over.

Greg sat on the rails of the fence surrounding my front porch. His crisp white button-down shirt was tucked into black jeans that hugged black cowboy boots. I could feel the way the cool cotton would touch my skin as I ran my hands down his chest, the heat of his body matching mine and heating up the cotton as I pushed harder, making contact.

“Jill?”

God, I had to stop that. This man could make me think, well, think. I put my keys into my straw bag. “What?”

“Where were you? I asked if I could come along.” His grin said he knew what I was thinking.

Blushing, I headed to the truck parked in front of my house. “If you drive.” I felt the heat of his body as I walked by. I had to be imagining this. I should have said no. I wasn't quite sure I'd be able to keep my hands from following my thoughts, especially on the road trip to Bakerstown. I whirled around. “Why do you want to come, anyway?”

His eyes met mine. “Do I need to tell you?” He paused. “Who else is going to keep you out of trouble? Until we determine who's been threatening you, we're joined at the hip.”

My heart sank. The job, nothing more. “I guess I should say thanks.” I took a deep breath. “I'll fill you in on the latest episode of the soap opera that has become my life on the way to the furniture store.”

“Now what?” Greg called after me, but I was already sprinting to the truck. He wouldn't have to open my door or help me in if I could help it.

I waited for him to climb in and start up the truck before I filled him in on the rock wall that Kevin swore was the old mission. Greg's eyes stayed on the road while I went through Kevin's logic. When I got to the part about the mission hiding Aztec gold, he snorted. I stopped talking and turned to watch him. With his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, the only thing I could see on his face was an enormous smile.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Kevin's wrong about the mission being Cortez's hiding place. Unless Cortez lived for at least two hundred years, his body had already turned to dust before the first rock was laid to build the mission.” Greg sped up and went around a slow-moving minivan with Texas plates.

“Tourists,” he mumbled under his breath.

“How come you know so much about local history?” This man had more layers than a Vidalia onion.

“I majored in history.” Greg glanced at me. “What, cops can't know anything except how to catch bad guys?”

I'd assumed he had a criminal justice degree if he had even gone to college. But I wasn't going to admit my error to him. “I never see you in the shop, so how would I know your tastes in reading?”

Greg's face turned pink. “If I tell you this, you can't hate me.” He paused, waiting for a response. When I stayed silent, he continued, “I buy my books online.”