Cloudy with a Chance of Ghosts (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 4) Page 2

  “Thanks.” She had tears of sincerity shining in her eyes and it broke my heart. “You don’t know how important your opinion is to me.”

  We hugged, something we didn’t get to do much anymore, and I almost felt like crying myself.

  Jagger returned and we walked over to the great room where the watercolors were being displayed. Strolling among them, I fell in love with that method all over again. Maybe I could try art lessons one more time. But probably not.

  “Light and shadow,” Jagger was saying in answer to a question from somebody. “It’s always a factor of light and shadow.”

  “Wasn’t it Paul Klee who said, a drawing is merely a line going for a walk?”

  People around me stared in awe.

  “That’s great,” said Debbie, who’d stopped by to listen to Jagger for a moment. “I hadn’t heard that one before.”

  Jagger looked at me as though I were trying to upstage him, but honestly, I hadn’t planned it at all. I’d heard it in an Art History class and it just popped out. Now he was going to hate me. And Jill didn’t look too pleased either. Ouch.

  I found myself right next to her honey and looked up, wondering if it would help to get to know him better. Maybe I would change my mind about him. Maybe he would change his mind about me. Maybe I would feel better about his relationship with my best friend.

  “Tell me about Carlton Hart,” I said.

  Jagger looked down at me and shrugged. “What can I say? He’s rich as a king, he loves art and wants to be part of that scene. He pays top dollar for the things he likes and he’s quite a ladies’ man. What else do you want to know?”

  I hesitated. It wasn’t as though I was planning to date him. What did I need from this? What intrigued me? Maybe it was because he’d surprised me by having such a beautiful…and close to my age… daughter.

  “Do you know Debbie?” I asked Jagger.

  “Debbie? Sure. She showed up, out of the blue, a few weeks ago. I don’t think he invited her here, but she came anyway.”

  “And he has no wife in evidence, huh?”

  He shook his head. “I think he was married to Debbie’s mom years ago, but no one knows anything about her.” He stopped dead and I turned to see what he was looking at.

  “See that woman?” he whispered, grabbing my arm. It was the professional-looking female who had been arguing with Debbie on the lower path. “She’s been snooping around for days. Asking questions, jotting down notes.” He grimaced, his gaze still on her. “Someone ought to do something about her,” he said grimly.

  Another journalist, looking for a juicy story? I turned to look at her again, struck by the intensity in his voice, but she’d disappeared, and when I turned back, Jagger was gone, too.

  But the Siamese cat was back, peering at me from behind a short sculpture of an enraged golden marmoset in full attack. It was a frightening sight, but it didn’t seem to bother kitty. She blinked her beautiful blue eyes at me and I thought I heard a distinctive meow.

  “Hi cutie,” I said, taking a step toward her. But she turned on a dime and sprinted away, much to my relief. I seem to have a thing with cats that I don’t have with any other species. It isn’t that they like me, exactly. It’s more that they have a need to try to get me to take care of them. It’s usually best that I not get involved-- otherwise I might find his sleek little body stowed away in my car when I’m half way home. It had happened before.

  I started to turn back to the art works, but my bracelet caught on the silky fabric of my jumpsuit and I had to take the time to carefully detach it again without making a tear. Once I’d freed it, I held up my arm and admired the way it looked against my tanned skin. Made of thin, polished leather strung with silver beads and turquoise chunks, it reminded me of a dream-catcher design. Roy McKnight had bought it for me at a street fair we’d visited in Santa Barbara. I loved it. I seemed to find a reason to wear it all the time lately. Maybe because it reminded me of the man who’d given it to me. I smiled, feeling happy inside. It was such a beautiful day.

  Chapter Two

  By the time the butler announced that tea was being served on the terrace, everyone had pretty much had their fill of art work. We took our places at the tables and I ended up sitting with Jill and Jagger, Carlton and his daughter Debbie, Celinda, the body painter-- and the professional-looking lady, who introduced herself as Keri Shorter. There was also a middle-aged blond woman I didn’t know-- and me, all at the same table.

  Carlton was back to flirting with me and I was back to trying to ignore it. The woman I didn’t know was introduced as Marilee Jeffers.

  “Practically a member of the family,” Carlton muttered, though his tone was somewhat dismissive. “She’s here now to assist with putting on the show, but she was Debbie’s nanny and tutor for years.”

  I smiled at Marilee, but she didn’t smile back, and her attention seemed riveted to the Keri Shorter woman, who was obviously the odd person out in this crew. She acted like it too, eating quickly and then excusing herself and leaving the table. The rest of us lingered, enjoying the English tea, scones and clotted cream. I saw Vince, the cub reporter, wandering among the tables, looking for a newsflash to make his reputation on, and it made me grin. Poor kid. Reality was about to flood him like a tsunami. If he only knew.

  Jagger was the only other one who kept leaving the gathering, saying he had to check on his paintings, then coming back for two or three minutes and leaving again. At one point, Marilee excused herself to visit the bathroom, and Carlton left to check on the parking area attendants. Someone had complained about having been treated rudely and Alda Gruening, the apparent organizer of this event, an older woman with her gray hair in a bun, came over to ask him to handle it.

  The rest of us stayed where we were, happily chatting, sipping lovely fragrant tea and trying the beautiful pastries passed around by serving people. The day was perfect for sitting on the terrace, and the breezes kept it just cool enough for the afternoon sun to feel deliciously warm on our shoulders.

  I noticed that Jill was getting restless, looking around the terrace and down over the stonewall as though she was missing something. And of course, she was. Jagger had been gone for a long time.

  “Don’t worry dear,” Celinda said with a bit of an acid edge to her tone. “He’s probably off making sure his award ribbons are hanging straight. And maybe he wants to make sure the judges add up his points properly. He really does think he deserves to win the Carlton Award this year.”

  “What’s that?” I asked in all innocence.

  Everyone stared at me as though I’d asked if fairies were real.

  “The Carlton Award is bestowed upon the member of the Carlton Group who most deserves it,” said Debbie coolly. “You have to enter this show to qualify for nomination.”

  “It’s fifty thousand dollars,” Jill murmured close to my ear as the others began discussing it.

  “Like chum in shark water, huh?” I whispered back, but she didn’t like that much.

  “Jagger really is hoping to win it,” she said, eyes wide, and I was sorry I’d made light of it.

  “Aren’t we all?” Celinda said sharply, then rose and left the table.

  At one point, I excused myself to visit the bathroom as well, and as I came out, I noticed Marilee heading up a wide stairway. Assuming there must be more artwork in that area, I followed her up.

  “Hello,” I said as I caught up with her. “What’s happening up here?”

  She jumped at the sound of my voice and turned toward me. At the same time, I realized we were in the private area of the house. It was a beautifully decorated sitting room, opening to three lovely bedrooms.

  I took a step backwards, regretting my mistake. “Oh, I thought…”

  Then I noticed she had tears in her eyes and she was trembling. I stared a moment too long, then reached for her hand. “Are you okay?”

  Her face crumpled, but she nodded quickly. “I’m okay. I just…” She turned and looked at
me again as though she needed someone to understand. “I just wanted to get a look at my old bedroom. I used to live here, you know.”

  “Oh, of course. When you were Debbie’s…” I wasn’t sure what to call it.

  “Tutor,” she supplied. “Companion, really. Yes. I spent so many happy years here. And then, Debbie grew up and it was over.”

  She voice broke and she looked so sad, my heart went out to her. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d thought herself in love with Carlton at the time, and if that was a part of her heartbreak.

  “Well… .” I felt awkward and wished I’d just gone back to the table. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” I said, turning and starting back down the stairs. Glancing back, I could see that she’d already forgotten me, so I breathed a sigh of relief and started toward the terrace.

  Something caught my attention as I went. I looked through the sliding glass doors that opened onto a side patio and I saw Jagger out on the path, almost hidden by the bushes, talking to that dark-haired Keri Shorter woman. The thing that startled me was the hold he had on her arm. He was talking passionately as far as I could tell, and she seemed to be trying to tear herself out of his grip. He glanced in, noticed me and quickly let her go. She turned and walked into the trees. I didn’t stick around. I figured it was none of my business. But once again, I wished I could warn Jill about him.

  The table had been abandoned by the time I got back. Everyone was milling about, taking pictures of each other and enjoying the view by leaning out over the railing. I found Jill and scanned the area, wondering where Jagger was now. Should I tell Jill about what I’d seen?

  I looked at her. Her eyes were just a little too bright and her smile looked forced. She knew something wasn’t quite right. I wasn’t going to say anything to increase her misery.

  Alda, the organizer called us all together for a group photo. Just as we were settling in place, a flock of seagulls came swooping over, crying out with their noisy calls and flapping their wings much too close to human faces for comfort and everyone scattered across the terrace.

  It took time for everyone to calm down and to get into place again.

  “I hate those birds,” George Marker, the trash can painter said to no one in particular as he came to join us. He’d been out walking around and still had leaves in his uncombed hair. “When they did their little attack on us, I could have sworn I heard someone scream, but then I realized it was just a bunch of crazy, nasty birds.”

  “Birds are people too,” Jill said, more to counter his mean nature than to convey any sort of truth.

  “All animals are nothing but trouble,” he said, grinning at her with crooked teeth. “I try to euthanize as many as possible at all times.”

  She glared at him. “You should be locked away,” she muttered, but not loud enough for him to hear.

  He laughed for some unknown reason and I wondered if he was all there, mentally. A very strange man, and not one I wanted to get to know better.

  “You should hear peacocks if you think those things sounded human,” Alda noted as she tried to get us into some semblance of order for the photo.

  “Peacocks on the grass—alas, alas,” I murmured and Jill hit me with an elbow to the ribs.

  “It’s pigeons on the grass,” she corrected tartly. “If you’re going to make fun of things, you could at least get it right.”

  I stared at her. She was hardly ever testy. “Who are you?” I whispered. “And what have you done with my best friend?”

  She flushed and gave me a one armed hug. “Sorry,” she said. “I just wish….”

  She wished Jagger would stick by her side and not be running off to who-knew-where every five minutes. I knew it. She knew that I knew it. And we were both sorry about it. But there it was.

  Before I had time to think of something comforting to say, Alda was ordering, “Everybody say cheese!”

  The photo was finally snapped and then Vince the reporter had to ask for us to pose for another one for his paper and finally everyone began to mosey off. We’d begun to walk back inside when we heard a real human scream. It came from outside, down the slope below the house, and we all gasped and rushed to the stonewall again to look down. There was Jagger coming up the outside stone steps toward the terrace. He seemed to be carrying something, but I couldn’t see what it was. And further down, just beyond where the young citrus trees were growing, Celinda Moore was just emerging from a brushy area, waving her arms and crying out.

  “Hey, you guys! Hey! Someone’s hurt! Come quick! Somebody call 911!”

  We all assumed someone had fallen, and we began to stream down the stone steps, some faster than others. A couple of people reached her right away, and then a voice cried out, “Hey! Too late. I think she’s dead!”

  Celinda screamed out, “No!” and turned back frantically, as though she might still help her.

  But the rest of us all stopped as though we’d suddenly been turned to stone ourselves.

  “Dead?” people began to mutter. “Oh no.”

  “That can’t be.”

  “There must be some mistake.”

  One of the men who’d gone all the way down came out of the brush, shaking his head. “I used to work as a paramedic,” he said. “I’m sorry to tell you all, the lady is definitely deceased. It must have happened recently, but she’s been gone too long for any further attempts to do any good.”

  “Who is it?”

  That last voice, rough and just this side of emotional, belonged to Jagger, still standing on the steps, looking a bit confused. He looked at Jill, and then he looked back out toward where Celinda was standing, looking tragic and wringing her hands. I could see now what he was carrying. It looked very much like the clutch leather purse Keri Shorter had tucked under her arm when I’d seen her arguing with Debbie earlier.

  “It’s that dark-haired woman with the glasses,” Celinda called up toward him. “The one who’s been hanging around lately, asking questions. I think her name was Keri?”

  My gaze swung around toward Jagger and I saw his eyes widen, and then he looked down at the purse he was carrying. Suddenly he looked like he wanted to get rid of it any way he could.

  Too late. Everyone else was staring at him in wonder.

  “I…I was just holding this for her,” he said lamely, looking around into faces as though he thought he could explain it all away if they only saw things clearly.

  But no one was listening any longer. A large group of people tried to leave, but Alda stopped them.

  “The police are going to have to give the okay before we can let you go,” she said firmly.

  “But just because there’s been an accident….”

  “We don’t know yet exactly what has happened,” she pointed out. “Please be patient. We still have tea and scones enough for everyone. Please go back to your tables and stay there until the police get here.”

  We did that, but it was a completely different atmosphere now. We talked softly, but our eyes kept straying to the empty chair where Keri Shorter should have been sitting.

  Celinda showed up and took her seat as the paramedics arrived.

  “Well?” Carlton said to her gruffly. “What happened?”

  “To Keri?” Celinda shuddered and held her arms in close to her sides. She definitely looked shaken. There was no sarcasm now. “I don’t know. She’s still lying exactly like she was when I came across her in that brushy area.”

  “Is there….?”

  “Blood? Yes. She was bleeding quite a bit from the head.”

  “She must have hit her head when she fell,” Carlton announced as though he knew that for sure.

  Celinda looked uncertain. “I’m not sure if that is what killed her,” she said, looking nervous. “There was this large rock lying there and….it had blood on it.”

  “What?”

  We were all stunned. I couldn’t help it, I glanced immediately at Jagger. He was looking as stunned as anyone else. Was it real? Was he faking? W
ho knew?

  But I looked at the purse he had sitting on the table in front of him. He looked at it as though it had turned into a stick of dynamite and he was going to have to find a way to get rid of it. I saw his gaze skitter around the room, looking for an appropriate receptacle and coming up empty. Funny how quickly supreme, wide-shouldered confidence can turn into basic panic mode when things go against you.

  “When did you get that?” I asked him.

  Jill gasped, but I held his gaze with my own. He knew I could bring up what I’d seen between the two of them. Maybe that would help make him answer honestly.

  “I…I was just going for a walk on the lower path—I really needed to think something through--and she was coming toward me. All of a sudden, she thrust the purse at me and said, “Here, hold this, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  He looked at us as though trying to assess if we were buying his story.

  “I stood there waiting for about ten minutes. I thought she’d gone to the bathroom or something. Then I gave up the waiting and started up the stairs to the terrace, and at the same time, Celinda called out that she’d found the body. I swear I didn’t move from the spot where she gave me her purse until then.”

  Jill was looking pale. “Of course you didn’t,” she said, patting his arm. “Of course.”

  Looking down at the lower area, I could see Vince racing about, trying to collect information as well as photos, and I thought he would have been wiser to stick with us up on the terrace. It seemed that was where the information was.

  The paramedics arrived, and then the police. I shrank down in my seat, hoping Captain Stone wouldn’t be the responder. Then he walked in the door and I hoped he wouldn’t notice me. But of course he did. He came right toward me, shaking his head.

  “Unbelievable,” he muttered, standing close to where I was sitting but not actually looking at me. “You again.”

  I tried to smile. After all, my Aunt Bebe liked this guy. I, however, didn’t. Not really.