Killer Moves: The 4th Jolene Jackson Mystery (Jolene Jackson Mysteries) (13 page)

Chapter 16

Melody and Doris were both resting in the bedroom and Emmajean was in the kitchen, so I had a few moments to myself, which I really needed. I settled myself on the side of the sectional where I had a view of the windows so I could look out and watch the sunlight reflect off the water in the pool—and keep an eye on the fire truck that was still sitting on the edge of the hill.

Had I really not put the car in park? Maybe I really had just left it between gears or in neutral. With everything else that was running through my head, it was a possibility. Still, I’d never done anything like that before. But if I hadn’t been at fault then who or what was? Whatever the case, the Tahoe was no more and it made me a little wistful. That truck had been through a lot with me. I’d come to terms with replacing its tires and wheels due to Kickapoo catastrophes and crime-related damage, but I’d never imagined it getting blown up. I wondered what was left of it—and what I needed to do about it. “For starters,” I said, speaking my thoughts aloud, “calling the damn insurance company might be prudent.”

And it certainly was, but it also turned into an unpleasant conversation about the need for a police report. I figured the sheriff had already handled that for me so it seemed to be a fairly straightforward process. I send them the police report and they send someone to view and collect the remains. There wasn’t a loan to deal with so it was pretty simple—at least for me. Maybe not for them when they started fishing what was left of the Tahoe off the side of the cliff.

I chugged down the rest of my smoothie then gazed out the window. With the big swimming pool and its rock wall waterfall on the other side, I had only vaguely noticed that there was a tall artistic water feature on the other side of the patio. Seeing it framed by the big glass window, I realized it really was a work of art. A rectangular base of polished granite formed a pond area and provided support for the center vertical column, which was about eight feet tall and three feet wide. Horizontal ribs had been sculpted into the face to cascade the water downward in a gentle sparkling waves. It was a simple and sleek statement piece that gave a subtle nod to the house’s mid-century modern history. The more I looked at it, the more I liked it.

“Sounds like you’ve had a pretty busy morning.”

I jumped. “What?”

“I’m a little early,” Edmond Grant Vanderhorn, IV, Esquire said, seating himself on the far end of the sectional sofa across from me.

“When did you get here?” I said, wondering how I could have missed him walking in the door.

“Long enough to chat with Emmajean and score a cup of tea,” he said, setting a mug on coaster on the table. “Are you okay?”

Apparently not since I’d been off in my own little world again, oblivious to everything else. Nevertheless, I said, “The car crashed and burned, not me.” I smiled and held up my empty glass with green residue. “I have rebooted the hard drive and am recharging as we speak.”

“Good,” he said. “Because we have a lot to cover.”

Typical man. He knows I’m lying through my teeth, but wants to pretend otherwise rather than attempt to deal with it, not that he actually could. “Wait a minute,” I said, another brilliant thought zooming in. “If there happens to be a mental health clause that would make this deal null and void, I can give a different answer.”

Grant didn’t bother responding, just opened his briefcase, pulled out some papers and spread them out on the coffee table. “First, was there anything left in your car that we need to replace?”

I thought a minute. “Lots of really good CDs. We hadn’t made into the new digital world yet.” I saw his look and knew that wasn’t what he was concerned about. A stack of papers and binder flashed into view. “Yes. All the project paperwork, contracts and such, including Waverman’s site safety plan that he expects me to memorize. They’re gone.”

“Easily replaceable,” Grant said. “What about the paperwork and items we gave you at the office yesterday? Were they in the car?”

My heart sank as I remembered the cash and credit cards and other items that I had basically ignored. I sucked in my breath then let it out in a big rush of relief as I remembered what I’d done. “No, I’d left all that at my mother’s house, so it’s all in a bag with my other stuff somewhere.”

“You might want to find it and put it in the safe.” He held up a hand to stop my comment. “You have a big one,” he said, then proceeded to line me out on the location and operation of it. As he asked other questions, he quickly realized the futility of the effort. “So, just how much of the property have you had a chance to look at?”

“The sofa’s nice,” I said. “And I did sit in that chair over there. I peeked in each of the bedrooms and, of course, you can’t miss the pool.” I saw the exasperation begin to build on his face. “Seriously, Grant, with all that’s happened, back to back and nonstop, just how much time do you think I’ve had to go exploring?”

“I’m not being difficult,” he said. “We just have a lot to cover and I want to bring you up to speed without being redundant.”

“Well, Emmajean gave me a quick tour of this level before Clove and I went to get my things at Mother’s, which is also where he left me when he heard the explosion, which kind of wiped out everything that happened before that. But yes, I generally remember what’s where.”

Grant didn’t seem convinced. “You have about thirty-six hundred square feet on this level with three bedrooms, four bathrooms, an office and a media room.”

“Big freakin’ media room,” I added helpfully.

“Big one,” Grant agreed. “The square footage on the upper level is about the same, although that space hasn’t been renovated to any degree. Since there are essentially two separate houses, the upper level could be a blank canvass to create your own space if you prefer.”

I did not prefer. In fact, every time I thought about the upper level where Bob had lived—and where I was supposed to have grown up—I got a weird feeling. There were a million reasons that would explain it, but the ones that seemed to fit best added an otherworldly creepiness I didn’t want to consider. “The last thing I need is another project,” I said, diverting my own thoughts to something less anxiety inducing. “Besides, I’m feeling pretty cozy here on this couch. I can’t connect any dots about it being mine, but the style and décor are totally me.”

Grant smiled. “Yes, well, it is and that’s part of what we need to talk about today.”

“Emmajean said Bob didn’t live in this part.”

“No. No one has.”

“Why not? Why create something like this if no one was going to live in it?”

Grant leaned back on the sofa. “After your father…after Bertram died, Bob started coming to terms with his own mortality. He realized that his plans for you to inherit his estate weren’t going to be very appealing without a suitable place for you to live.” He saw my questioning look and answered the obvious. “After his wife’s death and your adoption, he shut down in many ways, including making any changes to the house. The majority of the upstairs is exactly the way it was when you were born.”

Oh, now that brought us right back to the creepy place—only it had upped the ante and added very specific images to the creepiness. A shiver shook through me and I rubbed my arms again. “That is so not good,” I said.

“This level had a partially finished game room, bedroom and bath,” Grant said, trying to shift the unhappy wheels turning in my head. “It was never used as far as we know.”

“So they built the house just before I was born—maybe even because I was being born.” I rubbed my hands across my face. “And then Glenda died and everything fell apart.”

“It was devastating for Bob,” Grant said. “He never really got over it. But once he got the idea to create a house for you as a gift, he had a new excitement that he hadn’t had in years. Ed seemed to think he was hoping you might even have lived here with him at some point.”

“I didn’t even know him,” I said, frowning. “That’s just crazy. It all is.”

“It wasn’t to him. It was very important. You were very important.”

And he showed how much I meant by handing me over to Lucille? And now, somehow a fancy house was going to fix it? That made no sense. Well, I guess it could have in his mind. “He felt guilty.”

“Of course,” Grant said simply. “But by the time he came out of his depression, you already had a new life with new parents.”

Thoughts and emotions zipped and bounced around in my head like wild ping pong balls. “Do you have any idea how bizarre all of this is to me?”

“As hard as it may be to believe, Jolene, Bob never got over losing the love of his life—or you. Once he came up with this idea, he was like a whole new man. He’d thrown himself in to his businesses and that had kept him going. But this, this gave him purpose. It also gave him peace. He was finally going to give you the home he’d built for his family—for you. And he wanted you to feel at home.”

Oddly, it did feel like home to me, although I couldn’t tell you why. I hated to admit it for about a thousand reasons, but the second I walked in the door I’d felt it—felt something—like coming in out of the snow and being wrapped in a cozy blanket and handed a cup of cocoa. I’d promptly squashed that feeling and stuffed it away, but I’d felt it—and still did. Why? And why did I also feel the other creepy stuff?

I looked around the room, trying to see if there were any physical things that were familiar that might be triggering it. The kitchen did have a similar feel to mine, except it was much bigger, newer and more elegant. The furniture wasn’t like mine. I didn’t have a leather sofa like the one I was curled up. I had, however, lusted after one very similar to it for a very long time, the five thousand dollars needed to bring it home never quite materializing. The chairs across from me were similar in style to one I had at home, but mine didn’t rock or recline.

My gaze move on to the huge wall of built-in cabinetry with TV and assorted techno things as well as decorative items and books. Definitely didn’t have anything like that. Then, I noticed a big blown-glass fish on a shelf next to the fireplace. It was almost identical to one I’d bought several months ago. I even had a photo of it on my phone because I’d send it to my mother. Huh.

Then, I noticed a huge amethyst geode on another shelf. Definitely not like the one I had at home since this one looked to be museum quality, but the tall blue and green glass vase nearby was exactly like mine. I looked down at the handcrafted pottery tea mug on the table in front of me, the kind I am always on the lookout for. Oh, I smelled a rat. A big two-legged lying one with pink hair. “So that explains my mother’s sudden interest in my home décor purchases—and how they fit in with what I already had in my house.”

Grant nodded. “He had to include her, of course, and it was fine for a while.”

“Then she became Lucille again.”

He shrugged. “She was worried once you found out you wouldn’t want to be around her anymore. She panicked, became determined you not find out, and well, you know the rest of that story.”

“Yes, as much as I would like to forget what happened a few weeks ago, it remains freshly etched in my mind, which is why none of this makes sense.”

“It was all done with the best of intentions, I assure you.”

“Yeah, and that’s exactly what they told the
Stepford Wives
too. Since I prefer to decide what’s good for me, I’ll also be stocking up on bottled water or maybe get a filter system and some kind of drug testing kit.”

Granted ignored my attempt at humor—and reflection of my not-so-latent hostility—and pulled a file from the stack. “Well water is used outside on the grounds and for livestock. None of those wells are showing any signs of impact from the contamination. Those wells are being tested now along with samples from monitoring wells.”

“Waverman.”

Grant nodded. “You have city water in the house, but it goes through its own sophisticated filtration and purification system, which includes a solid block carbon filtration component and…” He paused and looked up. “You have good water.”

“Wow. That’s pretty sophisticated for a home system.”

“Yes, it is. Bob found all kinds of things to occupy himself with. The water system was one of them. It’s designed specifically for this site and is continuously calibrated so it’s better than anything you can buy.”

Now that sounded good. My well water in the mountains was the best water I’d ever had and one of the reasons I’d stayed living where I did. So, hearing the water here was good actually helped. Helped what, I wasn’t sure, but it did seem to help something.

Grant shuffled through the papers, pulled out two identical forms, signed both and slid one across the table to me. “That’s verification of your occupation of the property and fulfillment of the initial trust requirements.”

“This is just weird. On the one hand, everything’s so official. On the other it’s overly personal. I really don’t get it. Dare I ask what my next hoop to jump through will be?”

Grant shrugged. “Bob had specific reasons for arranging things as he did. It may seem a bit odd, but it was all designed for your protection.”

I don’t know why I had the next thought, but there it was so I put it out on the table. “So in these trust papers that we both know I haven’t read,” I said, reaching for my mug of tea, “is there anything I need to know about having someone move in with me on a permanent basis?”