Secrets by Starlight, page 15
“That sounds about right.” Bramm scrubbed a hand over his wiry red beard. “Now, do you have any food? I’m keen for breakfast.”
Worried that Lulu would object to having Bramm in the house, I put up a finger and then retreated inside to grab my purse. “Come on,” I told him when I returned to the porch. “You can wait in the car while I get us sandwiches.”
We walked around the side of the house and suddenly, Bramm disappeared. I paused and turned a slow circle. “Bramm?” I whispered.
“Still here. Carry on.”
“You can make yourself invisible?”
“Of course,” he growled. “Like I’d go around with a bunch of humans seeing me? They’d be after my gold in no time.”
“There’s really a pot of gold?”
He didn’t answer. Feeling increasingly out of sorts, with a headache beginning to build at my temples, I opened the passenger door and held it open for a few seconds. If anyone saw me, they’d think I’d gone loony. “Are you in?”
“Of course!”
Jeez. He was a hangry character. I hoped his attitude improved after food.
I jumped in the car and drove to Mark’s Sandwiches. I’d been meaning to try this place, and I had a feeling Bramm wouldn’t find the breakfast sandwiches at the Crescent Cafe satisfying enough. I’d only had cookies for breakfast, so I was hoping Mark would have some salads, too.
Standing on the sidewalk, I flipped out my phone and gave Mel a quick call over at Morning Star. “Hey, have you eaten yet? I’m stopping at Mark’s Sandwiches. What can I bring you?”
“Oh, I’d love their chicken Caesar salad. Thank you – that’s so nice!”
“I meant to be in earlier, so now I’m figuring we can make it a lunch meeting, if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s great, Naomi. See you in a few.”
She sounded delighted, and the chicken Caesar sounded great to me too. I glanced at my parked car to see Bramm glaring at me over the dashboard. I made a show of reading the menu and taking my time going in. The little dude could not anticipate bossing me around and getting something out of it.
I felt my headache ease as soon as I stepped inside Morning Star. The plethora of plants made the air feel light and fresh in here. Or maybe it started when Bramm took his large Italian sandwich and disappeared, this time not in my vehicle. Next time I saw him, he better not be such a grump.
Melinda welcomed me warmly, and her chicken Caesar salad even more warmly, and over lunch we talked about the store, upcoming orders and promotions, the end of summer sale season coming up in August and September. I signed a few things and made sure she had my contact information in case anything went wrong before I was back in a couple weeks.
Visiting the store gave me something besides the murder to focus on. At least until my phone rang again. When I saw the number, I stepped out onto the sidewalk to take the call. “Detective Morris?”
“Hello, Ms. Monday. Do you have a moment?”
I glanced around but didn’t see Bramm anywhere. “What is this about?” I knew what this was about.
“We had a break in at the station overnight. Someone attempted to take the evidence from Cherise Tillson’s case.”
“Attempted?”
“They didn’t actually take anything. Everything is accounted for. But the evidence bag holding the gold ingot was torn open. That seems to be what they were after.”
A chill rushed into my bones. Bramm’s demon wanted the gold ingot? What was going on?
“Have you come across any additional information?”
“Don’t you have video surveillance of the station? Who was it?”
“The video cut out for about ten minutes. Shorted somehow. Would have taken some skill to do that so neatly and not leave anything we could trace.”
Skill like an electrician might possess? Was it Sean after all? But why in the world would he try to reclaim the artifact his wife had when she died? And how was Sean connected with Bramm’s demon?
“Did you find anything else, Naomi? This case gets more odd by the day.”
“Is that a joke?”
I heard him shake his head and he gave a rough chuckle. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
I couldn’t exactly tell him my additional information revolved around a demonic presence being tracked by an otherworld leprechaun.
He thought the information he had was odd.
“I can’t think of anything helpful.”
“Call me if you do.”
He signed off and I slipped my phone into the pocket of my capris.
For a small town, Crescent Bay was a lot.
Chapter Eighteen
I dropped by the Museum of the Odd and Wondrous. The little bell above the door rang loudly as I paused to digest the improved layout of the curios. Somehow the movers had achieved sort of a half-moon shape, with the door at one point and the popular fortune teller a couple steps from the other point. Traffic could flow on either side of the half moon, as they’d moved the narrower curios to the edges, leaving more room for perusing. It was smart.
“Ah, Naomi.” Sheldon called from behind the counter at the back of the museum.
“You can see me from all the way over there now.”
“Yes. A big improvement.” He crossed his arms. “I wish I’d thought of it years ago.”
The glass in the curios shone and the dark woods gleamed. Sheldon had been busy. I moved to talk to him over the counter. “Has anyone been in yet?”
“No. But I’ve only been open for twenty minutes.” He glanced toward the front doors of the shop, fidgeting with a coin he kept passing over his fingers and back through his palm. A pretty reddish-orange patina was the only detail I could make out as it flashed past. I wondered if Sheldon knew a bunch of magic tricks. The skill would fit his interest in the weird. “I have seen a couple necks crane this way. I believe we’re emerging from this nightmare with heightened notoriety.”
I laughed. “Just what this place needs.” A stack of bright-blue flyers drew my eye. Enter the unknown. Indulge in the impossible. A few pictures, including one of Jake the Alligator Man, finished it off. “When did you have time to make these?”
Sheldon wagged his eyebrows at me. “I had to stay occupied somehow. I’m going to take these around town tomorrow morning, take up a little counter space anywhere the kids might go first.”
“That’s great. Thank you.” I turned and glanced over at the area where Cherise had died.
He shuffled out from behind the counter and came to stand next to me. “How are you, Naomi? It’s still a shock, isn’t it?”
“I just wish we knew what happened.”
“A murder solved only gives so much information. It’s likely we’ll never know exactly what was going through Mrs. Tillson’s head when she broke in here.”
I didn’t find that conclusion satisfying at all. I did want to know.
“Have a safe trip home,” Sheldon said.
“Thanks. You have my number if you need anything. I’ll be back weekend after next.”
Did I even have food at the apartment in Sacramento, or was I going to need to go shopping tomorrow too? I groaned. Would it be super weird to ask Dana to pack me a couple things from the overflowing Covett House kitchen?
Home. I didn’t allow my mind to rest on the word as I took the path behind the museum, to Covett House’s backyard.
Thomas sat on the porch, his tail swishing. He stood when he saw me, stretched and yawned. Arriving by the door, he looked up at me. Mee-ow.
“I agree,” I told him. “Nap time.”
I woke to rich smells wafting up from the kitchen. Oh, wow. Roast braised in a red wine sauce? For a second I let myself fantasize it was a tiny brownie crafting the mouth-watering meal. Standing on a small stool, waving her hand as ingredients lifted into the air and the wooden spoon rotated all on its own.
I sat up and blinked as waking memory settled like a hive of bees in my mind. I didn’t have to imagine it – I could go downstairs and see who was cooking, and there was a chance it was an actual real-life brownie. Because they existed. And Nanna had always known it.
This was my life now.
A glance at the clock showed it was nearly five o’clock. If I wanted to show proper appreciation for the cook and get to Sean Tillson’s house by six, I’d better get on it.
Thomas flicked his tail at me and gave a wide yawn. Apparently, he wasn’t quite done with his nap. I left him where he was.
As I was coming down the stairs, the doorbell rang. Dana glanced up as she came to answer it, wiping her hands on a towel. “Good morning, Naomi.” She winked.
“Dinner smells delicious.”
“We wanted to make something nice for your last night in town.”
“Thanks. That’s so thoughtful.”
Dana opened the door as I reached the bottom of the stairs. “Hello, Sarah.” She ushered Nanna’s best friend inside.
“Sarah,” I said with a little wave. “How are you today?”
She smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that Dana invited me for dinner.”
“Not at all.”
We all traipsed into the kitchen, where the cupboard door was just slipping closed as Lulu stayed out of sight.
“You’ve been resting?” Sarah said once she was seated at the table with her hands wrapped around a glass of iced tea.
“Yeah. I have…kind of a lot to do tonight. And I have to get back to Sacramento pretty early.”
Sarah pursed her lips. “I hate to see you leave so soon. When do you plan to return to Crescent Bay?”
“I won’t be gone long. I’ll have more business to attend to in Crescent Bay two weeks from now.”
“Ah.” She turned to Dana. “Rob has sure been busy outside – the garden is a miracle this year. I’m sure enjoying it from across the street.” The abrupt shift gave me a bit of whiplash. I had the strangest feeling she was changing the topic deliberately.
Did Sarah know what business would bring me back to Crescent Bay in two weeks?
I looked for my opportunity to trigger another reaction like that. “Thomas has been staying inside the house since I’ve been here.”
“Rose would be so pleased he’s okay. Do you think he’ll stick around with you away?”
Dana spoke up. “We put a nice thick cat bed on the porch, and we’ll keep an eye out so we can feed him. If he wants in, we’ll let him in.”
“He seems to have a habit of wandering.” I pointed out the back door. “He’s pretty fond of that patch of woods. Did Nanna used to spend time back there?”
Sarah smiled. “Some. And that cat would follow her anywhere.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair as Dana moved around finishing up the salad for dinner.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“Sure. There are rolls in the pantry. Tin foil in the bottom drawer there. Let’s get those heating. Rob should be in—” The sound of stomping boots could be heard at the edge of the porch.
I took care of the roll business and kept an eye on Sarah. I couldn’t ask her anything straight out. Dana would have told me if Sarah was in on all the happenings on the Covett House property. But her behavior…I just couldn’t decide if she knew about the moon garden or not. She and Nanna had been very close. And it was Sarah who pushed me to go through the contents of the library sooner rather than later. Was that because she knew there was a deadline?
“You’re pretty quiet.” Rob had come up next to me to wash his hands at the large apron sink.
“Me? No way.” I grinned at him. “Just a lot on my mind. I need to get back to Sacramento and work tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Dana said something about that.” He grabbed a towel and turned to face me while he dried his hands. “Said you’ll be traveling back and forth for now. No wonder you have a lot on your mind.”
I nodded.
“Well,” he said, somewhat gruffly for Rob, “just so you know you can call us if you need anything, all right?” He patted me on the shoulder and went and took his seat.
I blinked. What a touching offer. What had I done to deserve these people?
I might not have done much yet, but his sweet encouragement cemented my resolve. Crescent Bay was full of caring people.
Sacramento sounded cold and dry by comparison.
I had a lot of thinking to do.
Chapter Nineteen
The two-story Tillson residence was set back from the main part of town, in a neighborhood that sprawled into the forest behind the elementary school. Each house sat on a half-acre or so, well spread out and each of them with their private space. It felt very green over here, though it was only about a half mile from Covett House, and houses just down the street probably still had a bay view.
Nothing had been built back here in decades, all of the greenery was established, and no one seemed to bother much defining yard from the wilds. They just mowed down a patch near the driveway and called it good.
I found Sean’s house without issue. A blue Ford F-150 sat in the driveway next to a gray Prius.
Odd combination. But the truck was more hometown Crescent Bay than the hybrid car. I wondered if Cherise had tied a lot of her identity to not belonging in this tucked away little town.
I found it too easy to think of her in the past tense. I needed to remember I was dealing with a grieving husband here. I didn’t have any experience with investigations.
And that wasn’t what I was doing. I was just trying to understand what had drawn Cherise to the museum. Her interest had been sudden, and it had coincided with this research that both Sean and Deija had mentioned.
I gave myself a quick glance in the mirror, saw exactly nothing I could improve quickly, and went to the door before I spent a conspicuously long time procrastinating in the car.
Sean answered as I walked up, like he’d been waiting at the door. He nodded, but didn’t smile as he waved me in. “Hello. Come in.”
“Hi, Sean. Sorry to intrude on your evening.”
“If you can make heads or tails of the connection…” He shoved his hand through his hair. “If it helps, I’ll be happy.”
We’d walked into a foyer that opened onto two front rooms, a stairway curving up, and a hallway stretching into the back of the house. The paint ranged through soft grays, creams, and greens. The room on the left held a piano under the trayed ceiling. On the right was a dining room that would seat eight or ten comfortably.
The house spoke of more money than I would have thought for an electrician and his wife who was not, as far as anyone knew, employed. Maybe her family had money. That’s sure where mine came from. It wasn’t easy to get ahead, but it appeared the Tillsons had been doing just fine.
Sean led the way down the hall to a door on the left. “This is Cherise’s den. You’re welcome to take a look at her books.” He gave me a quick glance and I couldn’t decide what emotion crossed his face. Embarrassment? Frustration? “Shout if you need something. I’m the only one here.”
It struck me suddenly that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have come alone to the insulated residence of a murder suspect.
But I’d already decided Sean didn’t kill Cherise. If he threatened me somehow, I’d be even more shocked.
As Sean’s footsteps retreated into the background, I took stock of the room. The wood paneling was classy, not ancient. Two leather couches with a long coffee table between them took up a big chunk of the room. The decor struck me as masculine for a female’s office, and I had no doubt that this was, in fact, a room occupied by just one person, despite the copious seating. A consistent level of disorder pervaded the entire space. Every surface held stacked books or crumpled, rummaged through papers.
I didn’t know where to start. I got the impression she had worked standing, sitting, lying and pacing, from the way the piles were arranged. Two pillows rested at one end of a couch, and I could almost see the impression where she’d lain. A pair of reading glasses sat atop some papers on the coffee table.
Maybe the current disorder of the room represented her disordered mind rather than her usual workstyle. I ran a finger through the dust on top of a bookcase. No…it seemed like things had been arranged like this for a while.
There was a lot of stuff in here, but it made sense the most recent stuff Cherise would have touched would be at the tops of some of these piles.
Texts on unearthed ancient cities, on archaic construction practices and pagan religious rituals. Lots more books exploring world history. When I lifted them, I had to put them right back where they’d been, because there wasn’t space to properly sort through things. With each pile I went through, I grew more frustrated with her. I should have brought Sheldon if I wanted to make sense of a connection to the museum. I couldn’t see it here.
Her work seemed Euro-centric. Most of the books regarded either old European civilizations and cities, or their offshoots as they colonized around the world. The place of women seemed central. One stack held almost a dozen books about witch trials from Scotland to Spain, and over in the new world.
A bunch of papers had been printed out and sat in a haphazard pile nearby – the red ink scrawled across some scratched out lines told me it was a draft in progress. I almost lost myself in the description of women’s daily lives in the 1650 Scottish highlands. Cherise was a quality writer. I didn’t usually go in for academic papers. I was more likely to read about historic Scotland through the lens of a romance novel, complete with kilts and a time-traveling heroine.
Rome was a current topic of interest and took primary position on Cherise’s wide, cherry wood desk, but I didn’t see any written pages about that. It was difficult to tell if she’d been reading up prior to her recent trip or going into more detail after having seen those historic sites for herself.
I heard Sean’s footsteps returning and my stomach fell. I wasn’t going to figure this out. I’d have to let this puzzle go. Morris would figure it out eventually, and the connection to the museum would be resolved. Or not. Maybe we’d never know why Cherise had been killed there.
