Ghost On Duty (Destiny Bay Cozy Mysteries Book 2) (7 page)

He had some things to talk to Ellie about so I skulked about, wishing I could get into the garage as well. I got close and even looked in through the dusty window, but it looked like a storage area again, with boxes stacked to the ceiling.
 

As I was coming back in, I passed a stack of magazines, obviously ready for the recycle bin, and on top was a flyer that seemed to be aimed at Victorian Village residents. I’d noticed the same flyer at other houses we’d looked at. Curious, I grabbed this one, folded it and put it into a pocket for later perusal. I had a feeling it had something to do with the offer to buy people out. Funny how Lance hadn’t told me anything about that.
 

There had been some talk of going to lunch, but Lance begged off without explaining his reasons very fully. But I forgave him. Maybe his mother wasn’t feeling well. And to tell you the truth, I was relieved. I had other things on my mind, too. As soon as I got back to my car, after waving to Lance, I pulled out the brochure I’d picked up at the Chang household and took a look. Sure enough, it was all about the benefits of handing over control to a development company named “Green Acres”. No specific numbers were listed, but they were sure implied.
Want to get rich? Sell out to Green Acres. The first twenty to do so would get an extra bonus in the thousands.
Who wouldn’t look twice? But who was behind it? I mulled these things over for awhile.
 

Then I called Bebe.

Chapter Seven

“Did Silver ever show up?” I asked her.

“No,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since right after we got back from the meeting last night.”

“Me too. Oh darn. I hope the little guy is okay.”

“I’m sure he is. He’s used to living on a cliff over the ocean with a forest for his backyard. I’m sure he knows how to handle himself.”

She was right, of course, but I wanted him home with us.

I looked at the time and wondered if I should call McKnight—whose name turned out to be Roy, by the way. Roy. Like Roy Rogers. The good guy who rode to the rescue. Yep. I sort of liked that.
 

Anyway—I thought about calling Roy to see about going over to get the parrot. But that made my shoulders sag. After all, if I couldn’t be trusted to keep a cat safe, how was I going to do with a parrot? And they could talk and tell people when you did a lousy job of taking care of them. What had I signed up for, anyway?

I closed my eyes and leaned back, thinking. I wasn’t ready to call him. I wanted some time to digest the phone call from Peg, the sight of Bobby’s hoard of stuff, the question of where Silver had gone, and the guns.
 

The guns! I’d let that one slip. Roy had said there were no guns once they cleared the house. How could that be? I’d seen plenty when I’d been there the day before. Something wasn’t quite right about that.
 

Okay, that was what I would do. I’d go out to Ned’s house, take a look around, see if I could get in and see the situation for myself. After all, Roy had used me as a source of information. I had an official orchid—not on me, but still. Hey, I was practically an honorary cop myself. There just might be something that the police had overlooked. Why not? It happened all the time.
 

In the meantime I’d stop by Jill’s coffee bar and have some lunch. That brightened my outlook. I swung by and parked outside, going in to find the clientele relatively sparse and Jill happy to see me.
 

“I know it’s a little early for lunch,” I said as I sat at the counter. “But you do have sandwiches, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She pointed out the display case. “What’s your pleasure? We’ve got barbecued meatball sliders, baked chicken flautas, Empanadas, chicken salad, ham and swiss on rye, paninis.”

“Oooh, those meatballs look delicious. I’ll try one of those. Just a small one, though.”

“Oh I know,” she said, teasing me. “A big one’s probably 600 calories. Take a small one and it will only be 550 calories.”

I gave her a pathetic look. “Did you really have to go and ruin everything?” I wailed. “Forget the meatballs. I’ll have an open faced
 
watercress finger sandwich, hold the mayo.”

Her smile was smug. “We don’t make those here. Take the meatballs. You’ll thank me for it.”

I groaned, but we laughed and I took the meatball sandwich. It was heavenly. “This sauce is great,” I said as I devoured it. “What’s your secret ingredient?”
 

Jill leaned close and whispered. “Star anise. We got it from a Chinese recipe.”

I savored it. “Mmmm. The taste reminds me of something.” I frowned, trying to think, and then it came to me. “I know! Crack seed!”

Jill frowned at me. “Crack seed? What’s that?”

“Oh! You’ve never had crack seed? When I was a kid in Hawaii….” But I stopped myself. I said that too often. A wave of nostalgia swept over me. I saw a young girl, walking barefoot in the red dirt, chewing on a chopped off section of sugar cane and feeling the sun on my back. I was more homesick for the islands than I sometimes realized. Maybe it was time for me to go home.

But how could I do that? I’d been on the mainland for years now and my life was so entangled with these friends and family members here that I wasn’t sure I’d know what to do with myself in Hawaii anymore. But someday---someday.
 

“Crack seed,” I said, getting my focus back. “Okay, I think it was originally brought from China and called see moi. What it is is--plums fermented in spices-sort of half way between fruit and candy. Sometimes you get it with the seed broken open and that interior taste of the nut inside the seed gives it a really special quality. But even without that, you’ve got all kinds of see moi. As kids, we just called it crack seed and when we got some, we carried it around in little bags in our pockets and bit off little pieces all day long.” I laughed, remembering. “And when it was gone, we licked the packaging, because that taste was just too good to waste any of it.”

By now I realized I had a small audience, all listening as though I was giving a lecture on it. I felt my face get hot. “Sorry everyone,” I said. “I didn’t mean to take over the conversation here.”

They muttered and shrugged and began to drift away. Jill laughed at me. “Eat your sandwich,” she said. “And enjoy every calorie.”

Jill went off to help as the crowd was growing. I noticed someone slip in to sit beside me at the counter and when I turned and found Bobby grinning at me, I nearly dropped my lunch.
 

“Oh!” I said, brilliant conversationalist that I am.

“Hello sheila, remember me?” he said. We met last night at the association meeting.”

“I do remember you,” I said. “You’re the man with the big plans for the pageant.”

“Too right.”

“I was just in a house where you rent space today,” I told him, deciding to come right out with it. “Ellie and Rose Chang? I was surprised that you needed all that room for your supplies.”

“Are you kidding? I’m already busting at the seams at their place. And I only moved there six months ago when Nasty Ned got me kicked out of the storage locker I was renting closer in town. Now that Ned is no longer an issue, I’m hoping to get my locker back into operation. It’s a lot bigger and handier.”

I wiped my lips with a napkin and faced him. “So you really benefit from his death, don’t you? I don’t suppose you have a line on who did it? Maybe you ought to thank them.”

He looked at me as though he thought I was a bit cuckoo. “Just because it makes my life easier don’t mean I fancy a murder,” he said with a frown. “But the man made a nuisance of himself, a right tall poppy, and the tall poppies get the scythe.” He grinned at me, one eyebrow cocked. “And as to who did it, I lay that squarely at the feet of Lance Mansfield. That’s who.”

“Lance?” That set me on my heels. “What on earth makes you think he did it?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for his good guy image? The man’s phony as a two-legged dog.”

I blinked at that one, but I didn’t want to get sidetracked. “Did you ever go out to Ned’s house on the cliff?” I asked, trying to look innocent.
 

He grinned at me. “Sure. Plenty of times. At one point, I was working for him, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Hey, you’ve got something called the Fifth Amendment in this country, right? I like to follow the rules of whatever country I’m staying in. I think I’ll just abide by that one for now.”

Bobby was laughing and joking the whole time. Would a murderer be able to keep that up? I just didn’t know enough murderers to take a stab at that one. The one thing that was obvious to me was that I didn’t have much of a future as a criminal investigator if I couldn’t think up better questions than these.
 

But Bobby had other things on his mind.
 

“Listen, I heard you talking about that stuff you liked as an ankle-biter. Crack seed, I think you called it?”

I groaned. “If you think this has anything to do with drugs…”

“No, no, I realize it’s a confection made from fruit. Right? But it sounds intriguing. I think I might have tried it once when I was surfing the north shore. How can I find out more about this stuff? I’m thinking I might want to add it to my fast food inventory as a novelty item.”

I stared at the man. I couldn’t quite believe he could be so self centered as to kill Ned one day and try to find out how to import crack seed for kids to eat the next. It just wouldn’t work in my feeble brain. I was losing hope that he could be the killer.
 

We talked for a few more minutes and then he hurried off to an appointment before I could probe him for his reasons in suspecting Lance. But I couldn’t buy that theory. Think of his impeccable attire. Think of his standing in the community. No, that wasn’t going to work either.
 

But I had things I had to get to as well. I waved at Jill, who was busy as could be and looking like she was in her element. At least she seemed to have found her place in the scheme of things for now.
 

I got into my car and headed out to Ned’s place. I got all the way up the driveway before I remembered Peg’s advice about bringing protection. That gave me an icy shiver, but it was too late to do anything now.

Besides, Ned was the one who’d scared me. And he wasn’t going to be an issue, was he?

Still. I did wish Dante had come along. He wasn’t in the passenger’s seat, so I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to be seeing him this afternoon. Funny—he was more than a ghostly presence to me. He was a friend and comfort. I missed him.
 

The big old house looked sad and eerie as I drove up to the entry. If I was going to be able to explore at all, I was going to have to figure out a way to get in. I stared at the house for a long moment or two, wondering why I’d come. But I was here now. Might as well give it a real try. I got out with a sigh, and began to walk around the house. No open windows. No unlocked doors. This was hopeless.

I went up to a window and looked in. Then another. Nothing inside but empty rooms with old-fashioned utilitarian furniture. Not even any crime scene yellow tape—after all, the murder had happened at the cliff. At least that was what we were assuming.

For some reason, I was getting more and more positive that I needed to get in there, that there was something, something important, that I would see if I could only get in.
 

I turned, looking around. Where might Ned have hidden a key? I checked every door mat, tried a lot of flower pots, and all for nothing. Frustrated, I turned slowly, looking out into his yard. No chair swings, no art work, no lounge chairs. But there was a barbecue out the kitchen door in back. I opened it and found only rusting innards and a greasy smell. No key.

And then I ran my hand along the back of the metal guard. Something was back there, something taped with duct tape. I pulled hard and brought it out to look at. Bingo. I couldn’t believe it. It was actually a key. Now to find out it still didn’t match any lock that I could get to.

Chapter Eight

I tried the kitchen first, and to my surprise, that was it. The door swung open. Wow. This was surely my lucky day. I glanced around quickly to make sure Dante wasn’t around somewhere making good things happen for me, then I slipped the key into my pocket and went inside. I closed the door, then began a slow exploration through the house.
 

It was creepy, being in someone’s house. It was creepy enough when they were just gone for the day, but when they were dead….

I shivered. I really wasn’t thrilled to be doing this, but somehow, I knew I had to. The house was neat and clean for a place the police had swarmed and searched just a day before. Maybe the housekeeper had been in since.
 

That made me think of Peg. She had cleaned these very rooms in her day. Imagine trying to poison your employer! What could have set her off that badly? It made me wonder how many other people had wanted Ned Barlow out of the way over the years. And finally, someone had actually done it.
 

I went into the study where I’d seen the gun racks on my first visit. True enough, the guns were gone. The racks were still there, but they looked a bit forlorn standing there empty. I had no idea where he might have stored the rest of his collection. I took the stairs to try the rooms on the second floor.

There was what I supposed was his bedroom, and a couple of guest bedrooms. And then there was a sitting room with beautiful portraits on the wall—one of a lovely woman in a Seventeenth century gown, but with a modern hairstyle and look on her face. Odd.
 

I went on up to the third floor to see what might be hiding up there. The rooms were sparse and looked like no one had been in them for years—until I reached the last bedroom. Inside was a gallery of pictures of that same beautiful woman, only in the photographs, she was wearing clothes from mid-century and on, not quite to modern day. She was beautiful—obviously the target of Ned’s affections. In most of the pictures, she was dressed in white—flowing white, lacy white, romantic white. And she looked familiar, but not familiar enough for me to identify.