This Old Homicide (16 page)

I was grasping at straws.

What I needed here was a long talk with my dad. He had to know plenty of details about Jesse that I didn’t. I dialed his cell phone, but there was no answer. Dad didn’t always carry his phone with him when he was busy. I would have to try him later.

I stared at my list again and wondered who among Jesse’s friends and acquaintances had seen the necklace. My instinct told me that the necklace was the key to Jesse’s death. Why would anyone kill him otherwise?

We already knew that Cuckoo had seen the necklace. Who else had Jesse shown it to? Other antique dealers? Pawnshop owners?

He couldn’t have shown it much around town. If he had, everyone would have been talking about it. And that realization left me exactly nowhere.

I did an online search of such businesses within a ten-to-fifteen-mile radius of Lighthouse Cove. I found a number of possibilities and printed out their names and addresses, determined to visit them and find out if any of them had seen the necklace.

Feeling good about taking some concrete action, I headed out to my truck. Across the street, Mrs. Higgins shuffled out her door and down the walkway. At her front gate, she stopped and waved. “Yoo-hoo, Shannon, dear, can you come over here?”

I felt instant guilt and remorse for adding her name to my suspect list. It didn’t matter that I’d removed her name almost as quickly—my guilt was a living, breathing thing.

I shook it off and I walked across the street. “Hi, Mrs. Higgins. How are you?”

“I’m superfine like Chablis wine,” she said, snapping her fingers in a Z formation.

Oh, dear. Had she been drinking already? She wore a satin pink housecoat with kitten-heel slippers with little tufts of pink fur on the toes. Her hair was in curlers, and her rhinestone-studded bifocals completed the look.

“You look very glamorous today,” I said.

“Thank you.” She touched her curlers gingerly. “
Celebrity Wheel of Fortune
is on today and I want to look my best.”

“Ah.” I nodded. “What can I help you with?”

“I got a call from Sloane’s telling me my bird fountain is ready for pickup. Can you drive out there and get it for me today? I don’t want them to send it back.”

“They wouldn’t send it back, but I’ll be happy to pick it up for you.” Anything to assuage the guilt, I added silently.

“And you’ll install it for me?”

“Of course.”

“By tomorrow?”

I mentally checked my schedule and my level of guilt. “Sure, I can pick it up today and install it tomorrow.”

She reached out and pinched my cheek. “You’re a good girl.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Higgins.” I returned to my truck, rubbing my tender cheek where she’d squeezed it like a Vise-Grip. Maybe the old gal
was
strong enough to punch a few holes in Jesse’s walls, I thought, and was tempted to add her name back onto the suspect list, just for spite.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said, staring at the bird fountain Mrs. Higgins had ordered. It was even bigger and uglier than I’d thought it would be.

“Nope.” John Sloane laughed again. He’d pretty much been laughing his ass off since I drove onto the lot.

“Have I mentioned that your customer relation skills suck?” I felt comfortable telling him that since I’d known him forever. My father and I had been shopping at Sloane’s Stones for almost that long, too.

My critique just made him laugh harder.

“I don’t think it’ll fit in my truck,” I said.

“Oh, we’ll get it in there,” he assured me with a chuckle. “Because there’s no way we’re keeping it here.”

“Thanks, John. You’re a peach.”

His shoulders were still shaking as he walked off to find a couple of guys who could help him squeeze that gargantuan atrocity of a birdbath into the back of my truck.

It took four of them, plus me. It wasn’t that the fountain was too heavy. In fact, it was light enough for me to lift on my own. The thing had been carved out of polystyrene foam, coated in plastic, and then spray-painted a bronze color to make it look much heavier than it was.

No, it was just a big awkward thing, at least eight feet long, four feet wide, and seven feet tall, with odd angles everywhere and all those naked boys and dolphins and angels sticking out all over it. Fitting it back there took some clever maneuvering, but we managed it.

“There you go,” John said, slapping my tailgate. “All set.”

“You’ve got to lend me a tarp,” I said. “I can’t be driving around town with this thing exposed to the world.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? Are you implying that it’s ugly?”

“I’m saying it’s hideous,” I said, laughing. “I’ve got stops to make between here and home. I don’t want to scare any small children.”

“All right,” he said. “But I think you’re going to need more than one tarp.”

*   *   *

On the way back to town I stopped at another construction site to talk to Wade about getting some of the guys started on rehabbing Jesse’s place. I would’ve stayed to chat longer, but I had a strong urge to get home with Mrs. Higgins’s fountain before anyone I knew saw it and gave me a hard time.

I had to make one more stop at the supermarket to pick up a few essentials I needed. I ran inside and was out in seven minutes, but it was too late.

Whitney had just stepped out of her Jaguar and was headed straight toward me. She wore stiletto heels and skinny jeans with a strategically torn T-shirt that was tie-dyed and glitterized. It was what all the housewives in Lighthouse Cove wore when they had to dash off to the market to pick up dinner.

“Hello, Whitney,” I said breezily as I unlocked the truck and tossed my small grocery bag onto the front seat.

“Always a pleasure,” she lied, flipping in dismissal her keratin-treated straight black hair. As she passed the back of my truck, a bungee cord snapped and one side of the tarp began to flap in the wind, smacking her in the face.

She screamed and ducked, waving her hands over her head as if she were being attacked by bats.

“Jeez, freak out much?” I grabbed the bungee cord and the edge of the tarp and was about to reattach it when she gasped.

“Holy Versace,” she cried, as one shaky finger pointed at the item under the tarp. “What is that horrible thing?”

Even though I agreed with her description, I felt indignant on Mrs. Higgins’s behalf. “It’s a one-of-a-kind fountain. A very wealthy client just ordered it. What do you think? Beautiful, isn’t it?” I raised the tarp a little higher to give her a better look.

She recoiled in horror. “That is the most hideous, gauche piece of garbage I’ve ever seen. It figures a client of yours would think it was fabulous.”

“Sticks and stones…” Although I couldn’t disagree about the hideous-gauche part of her statement. I tried not to snicker as she made a face and stomped off.

“Always great to see you,” I called after her, then chuckled as I jumped into the truck and drove off.

*   *   *

The next morning, I got one of my guys to help me haul the fountain into Mrs. Higgins’s backyard and install it. I had already removed last year’s rejected fountain and easily attached the hoses and pump to this new one.

Mrs. Higgins watched from the edge of her small patio, twenty feet away.

“We’re going to turn the water on now, Mrs. Higgins,” I said. “I’m not sure if all the water will wind up in the fountain itself or spray the yard, so I think you should stay back where you are.”

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” she said, clapping her hands. “Hurry. Turn the water on.”

“Coming up.” I twisted the handle and the fountain spurted and coughed to life. Water began to trickle from the mouths of the dolphins and the birds, and after a minute they were spitting water everywhere. The naked boys began to pee.

The water tumbled down and collected in a small pool at the base of the fountain and then recycled through the pipes. It was actually a clever design if you ignored its outer shell.

“Oh, it’s stunning,” Mrs. Higgins whispered, clasping her hands to her bosom. “I’ve never seen anything like it before in my entire life.” She walked closer, grabbed my hand, and clutched it tightly. “Thank you, sweetie. I’m just thrilled.”

“I’m glad, Mrs. Higgins. I hope you’ll enjoy it for many years.”

“Oh. Oh.” She looked around the yard, mystified. “Is that music?”

“I think it’s coming from your fountain.” It had started as soon as the water reached the three angels that stood at the highest point of the fountain. When they began spitting, the sound started. There had to be some sort of mechanism inside their mouths that created the high-pitched heavenly choirlike humming noise whenever the fountain was running. Unbelievable.

It was all too much for Mrs. Higgins, who collapsed in ecstasy into a patio chair.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

She gulped. “I am sublime and on time.”

Where did she get those lines?

“That’s a good thing, right?” I asked, just to make sure.

“Right and tight,” she muttered, and closed her eyes. She looked happy, but the fountain experience had exhausted her. I just hoped we wouldn’t have to call the paramedics.

I gathered my tools and took off, hoping this particular fountain would keep her interest for more than a year, unlike the previous two. But then I figured, what did it matter? If having a gaudy new fountain brought her a little bit of happiness, who was I to pee on her parade?

*   *   *

That night, I finally reached Jane, who was excited about the idea of getting together with the girls at Emily’s apartment the following evening. I emphasized the fact that we were guaranteed a delicious meal prepared by Emily herself or her fabulous catering crew.

“Wonderful. I had tentative plans,” Jane said, “but I’ll cancel them. I’ll have much more fun with the girls.”

“Tentative plans? With someone I know?”

“It’s not important,” she said, and quickly changed the subject. “Hey, don’t forget my big gala is this weekend.”

“How could I forget? It promises to be the party of the year.”

“Of the decade,” she said, and laughed. “I’m so thrilled to be opening my doors at long last. Everything is ready. I’m just waiting for it all to begin.”

“You’ve worked really hard to make this happen and I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make me cry.”

“Save your tears for Wednesday night with the girls.”

“Good idea. Maybe I can make everybody cry.”

“There’s a goal,” I said with a laugh, and ended the call a minute later. As soon as I did, I realized I hadn’t even mentioned the necklace to her. I’d completely forgotten. And I had hardly heckled her at all about her
tentative
plans. I was really falling down on the job of BFF.

Before I could call her back, though, I received a call from my second foreman, Carla. She had a lot to talk about, and by the time we finished the conversation, it was too late to call Jane back. I’d have to catch her before we got to Emily’s, and talk it through. One way or another, we had to spill the beans.

*   *   *

Of course, Jane and I played telephone tag all day, so Wednesday night, I got to Emily’s early to try to grab Jane. We had to discuss strategy. Would we tell our friends about the necklace? Would we tell them that Jesse had been murdered? And we absolutely had to tell Eric about the necklace. My hair was turning gray just worrying about what he would say.

But Jane didn’t show up until after everyone else had arrived. So we were going to have to wing it, but I was determined to tell them about the necklace.

“I know it’s only been a week or so,” Marigold said after giving me a warm hug, “but I feel like I haven’t seen you in months.”

“I said the exact same thing to Shannon,” Lizzie said. “I’ve been so busy with work.”

“And a few of her men have been busy at
my
place,” Emily said dramatically as she poured wine into five glasses.

“How’s that coming along?” Marigold asked.

“It’s fantastic,” Emily said. “I can’t wait for you all to see it.”

Even though I hadn’t been back to her place since we did the walk-through with Wade, he’d been keeping me apprised of the progress. It seemed that the ghost of Mrs. Rawley was still very interested in what was going on there.

Emily passed me a glass. “You’ll be happy to know that Wade and Douglas and the others have been doing amazing work.”

I smiled. “That’s why I pay them the big bucks.”

“And they deserve every penny,” Emily said, and turned to the others. “They have not only me to deal with, but an interfering ghost, as it turns out.”

Lizzie’s eyes widened. “The Rawley ghost. I’ve heard about it for years. Do you think it’s real? Have you seen it?”

“Let’s say I’ve felt her presence,” Emily said, swirling her wine.

It was more than just a presence, I thought, if my experience at age seven was any indication. And Wade had been filling me in on a few incidents that had happened since they started the job. Nothing too scary, he’d said, but still a little nerve-racking to work with a
ghost
in the house.

“That’s so fascinating,” Marigold whispered. “Is it scary? Do you feel cold air in spots?”

“Not at all,” Emily said. “I just feel she’s there, taking an interest in everything happening around her house. There hasn’t been much to occupy her for the last five years that it was on the market, so now she’s fairly active.”

“How can you tell?” Lizzie wondered.

“It’s an energy. Plus, you know, the lights going on and off by themselves.”

“Seriously?” Marigold’s mouth hung open.

“Yes,” I said. “And the guys assure me it’s not the wiring. The first time we walked through with Wade, he heard a yowling sound, like a cat.”

“Was it a cat?”

“Maybe,” I said, “but nobody else heard it.”

“It’s a presence,” Emily said. “I can’t describe it. You’ll all have to come over once I move in.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Jane said.

“Me, neither,” Marigold said. “I can’t wait to meet your ghost.”

“She seems to show up in whatever part of the house the men are working in,” Emily put in.

“Smart ghost,” Lizzie murmured.

Emily grinned. “Yes. Sometimes their tools get moved. The other day a paint can tipped over, but it was on the tarp, so no damage was done. I don’t know if she wants to observe the work itself or if she just likes watching the men, period.”

“Don’t we all?” Jane said.

Emily winked. “They’re awfully cute.”

“Yes, they are,” Jane said. “When Johnny and Douglas were working on my place, it was hard to ignore them with those tool belts hanging low around their hips and those muscles bulging as they hammered and sawed.”

“Tell me more,” Marigold said, fanning herself.

I laughed. “You’re talking about guys who are like brothers to me.”

“I’m sorry for you, then,” Emily said, “because they’re quite adorable.”

Lizzie carried a bowl of guacamole into the compact dining space. “This is so much nicer than meeting at a restaurant.”

“I agree.” Emily brought a platter of pâté, cheese, and crackers to the table. “It might be the last gathering I have in this cozy little place, so I want to enjoy it while I can.”

I raised my glass to her. “I hope you’ll be even happier in your beautiful new home.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” she said, clinking her glass against mine. “I can’t wait to get started.”

“The guys are making pretty good time,” I reported, both to Emily and the others. “I think we’re right on schedule.”

“I know you are.” She watched as Lizzie placed a large bowl of pasta with a thick red sauce on the table. “But I don’t want to force you to talk shop tonight.”

Not that I would’ve minded talking shop, but the table was now crammed with food. We all took our seats and I glanced around. “How about if we talk about Jane’s ‘tentative plans’ for tonight?”

They all turned to look at Jane, who shot me an evil glare. “I’ll get you for that.”

“Let me rephrase the question,” I said, laughing. “Jane, are you seeing anyone lately?”

“I figured I couldn’t keep it a secret for long.” She sighed and reached for a marinated olive. “If you must know, I’ve gone out with Stephen Darby twice now. We were supposed to do something tonight, but I canceled.”

“Stephen who?” Emily said.

“Who’s Stephen?” Marigold asked, glancing around the table.

“Darby?” I said. “Ned’s son?”

“Yes,” Jane said, her tone defensive, knowing we were poised to pounce on her every word. “He called and asked me out and I said yes. We’ve gone out twice and I’ve enjoyed myself. He’s very tall. And, um, nice. He likes good food.”

“Ooh, tall,” Lizzie said.

“And
nice
.” Marigold emphasized the word since Jane hadn’t made it sound very appealing.

“That’s something, isn’t it?” Lizzie glanced around the table, clearly hoping we would support Jane in her quest to find true love. As the self-proclaimed matchmaker of the group, she wanted everyone to be as happy as she was in her marriage. Of course, each of us wanted that for ourselves, too. Eventually. Lizzie wanted it to happen right now.