Cloudy with a Chance of Ghosts (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 4) Page 6

  “When does Jagger get released?” I asked Jill.

  “He said he might be home in time for lunch,” she replied. “But I thought he would have called me by now.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you drop me at home and take the truck? That way you can store the paintings wherever he’s planning.”

  “Oh, thanks Mele. That would be great.”

  “Girls! Oh girls!”

  It was Alda, coming out from the house with a stack of something in her arms.

  “Wait a moment! I’ve got copies of the photo from yesterday. The one where we tried to get everyone included. Of course, we couldn’t get everyone. You know what happened to poor Keri, but there are others who didn’t show up for the picture as well. I just don’t know why people have to make it all so hard to organize. But never mind. Here, I wanted you each to have a copy of the group photo.”

  “Oh, thanks Alda. I’d love to have a copy.”

  “I set a bunch out so that everyone could pick up one as they were leaving, but someone grabbed the whole stack and took them. Can you believe it? What would they do that for? So rude! But no matter—I had more already printed. So I’ve put a new stack out, but I wanted to catch you and make sure you each got one.”

  “Thanks Alda. I appreciate it.”

  “Me too,” said Jill, taking one and studying it. “There we are,” she told me, pointing out our position. “Oh this is great. I love it. Thanks Alda.”

  “We loved having you and hope you come to our next event in June,” she said. “I’ve got your email addresses and will be sending you announcements.”

  She waved and headed back to the house. We got into the truck and started down the driveway, but I was thinking. That picture was going to be important to us in so many ways. Once we got far enough away from the house, I pulled over.

  “Let’s take a look,” I said. “Let’s see if we can figure out who was in the picture and who was missing.”

  “Because?” Jill asked.

  “Because the murder was taking place at the same time.”

  She gasped. “Of course! You’re right!”

  I spread out the photo on the seat between us. “Okay, we know Jagger isn’t here. And Keri, of course. And Celinda. Can you find Marilee?”

  We both studied it for a few minutes.

  “Nope. No Marilee.”

  “That’s what I thought. I did see her go to the area where she had a room when she lived there. That was before the murder. I don’t think I saw her again until after Celinda found Keri. Did you?”

  Jill shook her head. “But what about Carlton and Debbie?”

  That was easy. They were both front and center.

  “That woman, Quill?”

  I found her with no trouble at all.

  “How about the man who paints trash cans?”

  “George Marker? Isn’t that him scrunched down in a chair behind where those two blond women are standing?”

  “Hmmm. Could be. Though I can’t be certain.” She frowned. “Oh, and there’s Shady Tree, right by the potted palm tree.”

  “Um hmm.”

  And then I saw her—the girl who’d been in the bedroom. She was standing at the edge of the group and she looked….she looked almost transparent. It gave me chills. I wondered if Jill could see her, but I couldn’t make myself ask her. It would just lead to questions I didn’t want to answer yet.

  Chapter Six

  “What’s the matter?” Jill said.

  “Uh…I’m okay.” I shook it off. “So the picture is missing Jagger, Celinda, Marilee and Keri. Anyone else?”

  “Well, that’s a problem, really. There could be people missing from the picture that we didn’t ever meet and didn’t ever know were there. We only met a fraction of the crowd. So I don’t think this really proves much of anything.”

  “Let’s go over the ones we know about. We know what Jagger was doing. At least, we think we do. He was standing around holding Keri’s clutch bag and waiting for her to show up and take it from him.”

  “That’s what he says.”

  She glanced at me suspiciously, but I made sure I didn’t have a hint of sarcasm in my face.

  “Marilee was up in her old bedroom waxing nostalgic.”

  “Was she emotional?”

  “Very. I had the feeling leaving the house wasn’t her idea. She would have stayed if she’d been invited to.”

  Jill wrinkled her nose in thought. “Poor thing. To spend years of your life in a house, being part of a family, and then to have it all ripped away—that’s tough.”

  I shrugged. Life is change. Anyone who doesn’t prepare for that is going to get hit by a tidal wave of unexpected pain if they don’t protect themselves. I’d learned that the hard way.

  “Keri wasn’t getting her picture taken because she was busy getting murdered. But what was Celinda’s excuse? What was she doing wandering down in that orchard anyway?”

  Jill tilted her head to the side. “Maybe we should pay her a visit,” she said, arching one feathered brow. “What do you think?”

  “I think that is a brilliant idea,” I said. “Later this afternoon. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Meanwhile, you need to get these things into safe storage somewhere and I need to go home and see how Bebe’s doing. I promised her we’d do lunch today.”

  “Let’s go.”

  We went.

  My Aunt Bebe was waiting for me. She’d made a Hawaiian Chicken Salad and spooned it generously into sandwiches made from large, flaky croissants, with a slice of avocado on the side. I sighed happily as I took in the feast to come.

  “Oh, this is just what I need,” I said as I sank into a chair and took a sip of the Paradise Iced Tea she’d poured for me.

  “Any news on the murder front?” she asked as she set out the food.

  I quickly filled her in on what Jill and I had found out, as well as some of our speculations.

  “So what do you think?” she asked. “Did Jagger do it?”

  I hesitated a beat to long, then said quickly, “I sure hope not.”

  Bebe nodded. “Me too. It’ll hit Jill hard if he gets charged, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely. She’s crazy about him.”

  “She hasn’t known him very long.”

  “No, but she’s head over heels right now. Of course, once she gets to know him better….” I left the obvious statement unsaid, but Bebe nodded her agreement and we both sighed.

  “Okay,” Bebe said, sounding tense. “I asked you to come have lunch with me today because I have something I want to talk to you about.”

  For some reason, the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end and a wave of nervous tremors swept through me. I don’t know what I was so scared of, but I knew that Bebe didn’t often make a special effort to prepare me this way and I didn’t know what to expect.

  “Really?” I said, playing with my fork. “Is it…is it something I’ve done?”

  “Oh no.” She reached out and covered my hand with her own. “Nothing like that. It’s just that, I’ve been promising you for so long that I’d talk to you about your mother, and I thought it was way past time I actually did that. So….”

  I stared at her, more jumpy than ever. Was it really going to be so bad? If it was this hard to get out, I couldn’t imagine what it could be that she was about to tell me.

  “You okay with that?” she asked, and I wondered how scared I must look to have her ask.

  But I nodded. “Sure,” I croaked.

  She smiled at me. “You look so much like her,” she said softly. “I just wish….” She sighed and shook her head. “Okay. Here goes. Your mother was born three years before me. Our Mom died when she was six and I was three. So it was just the two of us and Grandma Kalena from then on.”

  I nodded. I knew all that. I’d heard it told often when I was very young. Hawaii was in many ways a magical place to grow up in—think tropical waterfalls, white sand beaches with flowers e
verywhere. Imagine soft evenings with neighbors barbecuing and calling you over to join them, with someone on a guitar, someone else on a ukulele, and soft voices singing familiar songs. Someone was dancing a provocative hula in the limelight and a couple was kissing in the shadows. That was nightly. Hawaii was the best.

  But at the same time, if your mother was gone and your father was emotionally out to lunch, it wasn’t as easy as it should have been. I’d been lucky to have my grandmother and Bebe to take the place of parents most of the time. Still, I’d always known some very important components of family were missing in my life. And there had been times when I’d deeply resented it. Rose Carrington Keahi—my mother. Missing in action, but sorely missed.

  “Rose was like the flower she was named for—beautiful, but surrounded by thorns. I loved her so, and we practically raised each other, along with our grandmother. But I never felt as though I could quite reach her heart, or read her soul. There was always a part of her that stayed distant.”

  I felt tears stinging my eyes, thinking of those poor little girls who had lost their mother so early. Their father, I knew, was long gone by then.

  All alone in the world.

  It must have felt that way, despite Grandma Kalena being there for them. The mother and father every child needs—those were missing. But I knew a bit about that, didn’t I? Still, so did Bebe. She’d gone through the same pain and loss my mother had. Could she have run off and left a baby behind? Somehow, knowing her, I couldn’t imagine it.

  “She was a wonderful singer right from the start. Even as a little girl, her voice was like a gift from heaven. But that talent was a blessing and a curse, all rolled into one. And in the end, it was what took her from us.”

  I closed my eyes, knowing what was coming next—dreading it but looking forward as well. I loved the sound of Bebe’s voice, falling into the old island tone and rhythm. It made me smile to realize Bebe was slowly, unconsciously taking on some of her island heritage, speaking with a bit of a pidgin inflection.

  “Boys started coming around when she was much too young to know how to deal with it. We tried to protect her, but she struggled against rules. She was barely sixteen when she had you. Much too young. When she had you, she wasn’t even ready for marriage. But they did get married, she and your father. And they had some good times. They loved you.” Bebe smiled at me lovingly. “You were the sweetest little baby right from the first. It would have been hard not to love you.”

  Why was it that I could believe that love from my mother, despite what she did, and couldn’t quite get myself to believe that my father gave a darn about me. I guess that was the reality of knowing him against the dream of what I didn’t know about her. Was that what made me feel, sometimes, like I was balancing on the top of a mountain, not sure how to step on anything firm that would support me?

  “But your dad was not a homebody,” she went on, saying it nicely. “He was much too young, too. He liked best to go off with his buddies, surfing or drinking beer, playing guitar and talking story, as we say in Hawaii.”

  “Your mom would sit home. She was sick during a lot of the pregnancy, and she had some troubles after you were born, too. I used to go over and help her.”

  “How old were you?”

  She thought for a second. “I must have been about twelve or thirteen, I guess. I stayed overnight a lot of times. Grandma Kalena would come over and make us food and we would have a great time, talking and singing and wondering what you were going to be like. After you were born, she loved you so much. She wanted to get everything for you but there was no money. Friends gave her baby things and diapers and some supplies, but it was pretty sparse at your house. As soon as she could, she got herself a job and she would leave you with Grandma Kalena. She didn’t have any real education or training or skills, but the one thing she could do was to sing. She sang in some of the local clubs, and for weddings and luaus. Then she met De Ponce. Do you know who that is?”

  A feeling of dread shivered through me. “I’ve heard the name,” I said evasively. The truth was, there had been people who had made sure I heard of him. They’d told so many conflicting stories about my mother when I was young, I never knew which ones to believe. As a consequence, I didn’t believe any of them. It seemed safer that way.

  “I don’t think anyone hears of him anymore, but in our day, he was very big. He was a sort of cult leader, a guru, and he held tent meetings that were almost like religion.” She sighed. “Whatever religion he was, it wasn’t anything normal. But he had charisma and he mesmerized your mother. He treated her like a princess, charming her, making her feel wanted and needed like your father just didn’t seem to want to do.”

  I ached, thinking of them both, so young, younger than I am now. They weren’t ready to have a family. And still—could I forgive them? In a way, I was the one who ended up paying for their mistakes. I was the one who was abandoned.

  “So she ran off with him.” My voice sounded flat even to my ears. My resentment was showing. I glanced up at Bebe, wishing I could laugh and brush it off. But I couldn’t. My mother running off and leaving me had twisted my entire life in ways I would always regret. I couldn’t ignore that. It was the truth.

  Bebe nodded, not trying to sugar coat it. “Yes, she did. Grandma Kalena took you in and raised you. I helped for a few years, but then I met Jimmy and we got married and I came back here to California with him.”

  I studied her for a moment. “So you turned out okay, despite losing your mother. Didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “I had hard times, but I also had Jimmy. He was worth everything.” She drew in a sharp breath and steadied herself. “If only I still had him today.”

  I turned away, not sure I could buy that as the answer to all our problems. There was no doubt that her husband Jimmy Miyaki had been a wonderful man and had made her very happy. But since he’d died a few years ago, she’d had periods of feeling lost and lonely. I knew, because I’d witnessed it. She didn’t have to tell me.

  “Did you ever try to find her?” I asked, going back to talking about my mother.

  “Many times. It seems as though she just melted away into the air. No one knows what happened to her.”

  There was a lump in my throat. I clenched my hands into fists, trying to keep from lashing out. It didn’t seem fair. Someone should have kept track of her. Someone should have known where she went. How could she just disappear like that? It was so wrong.

  “How about that man?”

  “De Ponce? He was killed in a car accident about fifteen years ago. I never could find anyone who would even admit to knowing him.”

  I nodded. I’d done my own search during my freshman year at UCSB. I hadn’t found anything either.

  Reaching out, I took Bebe’s hand and held it tightly. I already knew most of what she’d just told me, but it had been a long time since I’d last heard it and I’d needed to hear it again, just to make sure I wasn’t making things up in my own mind. I had only heard vague rumors about the man she ran off with. I hadn’t been sure of his name. Now that I knew it, I could hate him with a little more intensity.

  Emotions were clouding my brain and misting my eyes. I realized it was probably time to end this for now. I reached for Bebe.

  “Thank you,” I said, tears in my eyes. “For telling me all this, and for all you did for me from the time I was born.”

  We hugged and cried together for a few minutes. Then we sniffed and got tissues and began to smile again.

  “I’ve got a couple of photo albums from those days,” she told me. “They’re in the attic. I’ll go up and search them out. Maybe this weekend.”

  “Oh, I’d like that,” I said.

  “Okay then.” She took a deep breath and shook her head. “Well, I’ve got to get over to the office. The foreman has some changes to the plans for the new orchid greenhouse that I have to okay before he can move on. Will I see you for dinner tonight?”

  I hesitated. “I’m not sure.
Jill and I were thinking of trying to talk to some of the artists from the Carlton Group tonight.”

  She frowned. “You know, you really ought to leave it to the authorities. They’re the experts at these things. If there is a murderer out there, you could be asking for trouble getting involved like that.”

  I could almost hear Captain Stone’s voice in what she said.

  “Oh don’t worry. We’ll be careful. And Jill is going crazy about Jagger being a suspect. You don’t think we can just sit home and let things play out like this, do you? Not when we might be able to see or find something the police might miss?”

  She sighed. “It’s like yelling at the wind,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I guess nothing I say is going to stop you.”

  “About dinner….”

  She held up her hand. “Okay. We’ll play it by ear.”

  “Thanks.”

  And then I followed her to the door because I had another thought. “Bebe, I know you don’t see Aunty Jane much anymore.”

  She looked at me in surprise. “I don’t see her at all anymore. I haven’t for weeks.”

  That made this hard to ask, but I felt I had to. “Well, I think I told you I was a little worried about her. She seems to be frightened of something.”

  “Do you know what’s scaring her?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “But I was thinking, if only we could make a special place for her to stay. Maybe set up something in the shed. Make her feel like she had a place to go and be protected from harm….”

  She grabbed my hands. “Mele, that’s very sweet, but she’s a ghost. She can’t live like a human. She’s a spirit. If she wants something special she’ll make it happen on her own. You don’t have to worry about her.”

  “But…” I remembered how she’d looked hiding behind the rakes and shovels and my heart ached for her.

  “Hey, you have enough things to worry about. Aunty Jane has always taken care of herself. She’ll be fine.”

  One last hug and Bebe was out the door.

  I watched her go, knowing she was probably right, but sorry anyway.