The Five Strangers, page 24
“You had a brief window of time to remember you left the camera behind, smack yourself in the forehead for being so stupid, and work out how you’re going to get it. I don’t know when you finally remembered it, but judging by the fact that you didn’t go right back to the shop for it, it must have been too late. Your time is severely limited by the fact that Jasper gets up early, before dawn, to sing to the rising sun. What time do you usually get up, Jasper?”
“This time of the year? Around 5:30, quarter to six, so I can get to the beach before the sun begins to rise.”
I turned back to Grady. “So to be on the safe side, you needed to be back home before 5:30. You probably wanted to shower, burn your clothes, get rid of any spatters of blood . . . you had so much on your mind! So much, in fact, that you didn’t remember the camera until it was too late. Poor Grady.”
I was trying to bait him, but he just kept staring, glassy-eyed, looking like a statue of an ogre. I went on.
“But a clever man like you isn’t going to be stumped for long, are you? You had hidden the camera somewhere in the shop, so Sheila wouldn’t notice it. There was still a small chance that the cops hadn’t seen it yet. Small town cops – they’re not so smart, are they? And even if they did find it, they’d probably think Sheila put it there herself, for security reasons. There was absolutely no chance they would connect the camera with you, especially since you planned to disappear before they even knew you’d been here. But it would be far, far better if they never found the camera at all, and that’s why you had to go there yesterday, in spite of the danger of getting caught.”
“I told you she was a smart lady,” Jasper said to his fuming cousin. “She’s got it all figured out, you’ll see.”
“Thank you, Jasper. Well, this is what I figure. I realized there had to be a pretty compelling reason to bring you back to Beloved of Old at a time like that, and it wasn’t just to gloat over a few tchotchkes. Even though you just wanted to make a run for it, you knew you couldn’t. Not without that camera. Even the witness wasn’t such a big problem. You knew there was a darn good chance that if you and Jasper were put into the same line-up, the witness wasn’t going to be able to swear which one of you he’d seen. Even Dusty fits the description. From a distance, even Ed thought Dusty was Jasper, the first time he saw him on the beach.”
“He did?” Dusty asked, more amused than worried.
“He did,” I said, then I bore down on Grady again. “You didn’t know at the time that Dusty was Emerson Fogg. Whoever this drifter was, he’d just add to the confusion, stir up reasonable doubt. And with Jasper acting like a crazy man, you could have concentrated on throwing suspicion on him, but not if they found that camera and saw what it had recorded. Jasper had been taken in for questioning. You had his truck. The cops were busy with him. All you had to do was zip into the shop and grab the camera, and nobody could prove you went anywhere near Sheila the night she was killed. It was just your bad luck that I saw you as soon as you stepped inside. And I was right behind you, getting into the salesroom before you could even look at the camera.”
“Which wasn’t there anymore,” Jack told him. “I guess with Taylor all over you, you never even got a chance to look up to the shelf where you’d planted it among some old dolls. It’s sitting in my evidence locker as we speak.” Then he turned to me and said, “Are you sure about all this?”
“Nothing else makes sense. That camera probably recorded the murder, and it would have led you right back to Grady. I mean, who else could it be?”
Jack thought about it for all of five seconds.
Going to the door and opening it, Jack called for Brody before ordering Grady to stand up.
Chapter 44 – High Tea with the Boys
We, the ladies of Tropical Breeze, simply adore high tea. The men, not so much.
At least that’s what I thought when I conducted Michael into the dining room of the Whitby House and he got a load of all the sparkling china, gleaming silver, fresh flowers, crisp linen and the octopus-like epergne spread all over the expanded table.
I quickly realized he wasn’t looking at the table the way a woman would, though. He was looking through the eyes of a man, and men don’t admire the china. They admire the food. The fussy little cakes. The savory apps on their warming trays. The dainty sandwiches in the tier trays. And the generous assortment of wine bottles on the buffet, next to the crystal punchbowl and the fancy tapper filled with iced tea. On the other side of the buffet, the statue of the goddess Bastet silently regarded the banquet, looking serene.
When I looked back at Michael surveying the feast, he was glowing like a man just admitted into heaven.
Rita, brazen enough to be wearing her sexy French maid costume with all the men that were there, came forward and gestured toward the epergne. Its whirligig of arms had been topped with fresh fruit and nuts, looking more ornamental than edible.
“I knew I had to have one of those things around here somewhere,” she told me. “And sure enough, I did. It was in the silver closet, on the shelf above the punchbowl set. Speaking of which . . . .”
The punch was a little strong for my weak head, and I filled my glass with iced tea instead.
She’d made out place cards, and mine was at the head of the table. Her own was at the foot, giving her quick access to the kitchen. Along the table were Jack, Jasper and Ed on one side, facing Michael, Caden and Dusty on the other.
After proposing a florid and embarrassing toast to me, Rita leaned toward Caden and said, “She had a lot of brilliant ideas, didn’t she? But she also had a few silly ideas. Did you know that at one time she thought you might be the private detective Sheila hired to find her husband?”
I grinned and tried to be a good sport while everybody had a good laugh at me.
“Such a fine young man,” I said, smiling at Caden when the laughter finally died away. “Shame on you, Jasper, for the way you behaved when Caden went out of his way to introduce himself to you. What was all that fussing about, anyway?”
Jasper bridled and blushed. “Kid came right up to me while I was working and out of the blue started talking about The Foggy Mountaineers. Gave me a turn, that’s all.” Jasper looked very uncomfortable, sandwiched between the Chief of Police and the paranormal investigator he’d hired while he’d been temporarily insane.
“I’m sorry,” Caden told him, trying to see across the table around the arms of the epergne. “I tried to be subtle about it, but by then I suspected you might know something about Grady. The way Sheila was acting toward you –”
“You were following her while she tried to track down Grady, weren’t you,” I said. “Just like Dusty was.”
“Yeah. Kind of obvious, wasn’t it.”
“Not at all.”
Rita cut in, saying, “Taylor’s just a noticing kind of woman. She sniffs things out. And anyway, you managed to find your father, and we’re all glad. Is that another thing you sniffed out, Taylor? Is that why you wanted Dusty and Caden at the roundup at the Police Station?”
“No. Well, maybe. There’s something about their eyes, and their gentle ways. But I still wasn’t sure Grady wasn’t really his father. And if it was Grady, I wanted Caden to hear everything that he had done; to know that he was toxic, and he should walk away.”
“But I don’t have to worry about that,” Caden said. Rita had placed him next to Dusty, and they shared a look with those eyes that were so alike. “We got the DNA results. He’s my dad, all right.”
“And he’s my boy,” Dusty said. “Imagine finding out you’ve got a grown-up son when you’re my age.”
For the first time, I noticed a similar dark-satin tone to both of their voices.
“So,” Michael said, “what are your plans now, er, Emerson? Will you be staying on with us?”
Dusty smiled, a slow, warm smile. “This town’s been awful good to me. I got a good gig at a place I like, run by people I like that are giving me a place to stay. And I got kin here. Why would I leave? And it’ll be Dusty from now on. I don’t think I’ll ever feel like Emerson Fogg again.”
“And what are you going to do with your inheritance?” Michael asked. “Are you going to run that shop?”
“I haven’t decided. The landlord’s being really nice about it, giving me time to decide if I want to keep the space or not. If I do, I’ll keep the name Beloved of Old. I wouldn’t have thought of it myself, but Sheila loved that song enough to name her store after it, so I have to honor her wishes. Maybe I’ll try to find a manager who’ll run it the way Sheila would have. I just don’t know yet.”
“Anyway,” Rita said briskly, as if summing up, “everything is sorted out and finished, now that Grady has confessed.”
Jack snorted. “He had no choice. We had the proof, right there in his phone. And then he had the nerve to say it was Sheila’s own fault he had to kill her. He said he’d only gone there to discuss an amicable division of their estate – including everything she’d just inherited – and she pulled a gun on him. When he saw her there alone in the middle of the night, he figured it was the perfect time for them to have a discussion like that, when they couldn’t be interrupted or overheard.”
“Good grief,” I said. “Does he really think anybody is going to believe that?”
Jack gave me his cynical cop look. “A jury might.”
“You know,” Dusty said, “I like to think Chrissy had a hand in all this.”
We all stared at him, but only his son went ahead and asked him why.
“If you think about it,” Dusty said, “Chrissy must have been most of the reason he was hiding out like he was. He didn’t want to hide from Sheila anymore. In fact, he wanted to get to her and try to make her fork over some of what she’d just inherited from her grandma. But Chrissy . . . he was afraid of Chrissy. He’d taken her out of a happy home with a husband who loved her, dragged her around a while and then dumped her somewhere out on the road. And he knew the state she was in. He had every reason to think she’d come after him, either for revenge or . . . or maybe because she still wanted him.”
“Chrissy,” I said quietly. “Our fifth stranger.”
“Your ghost,” Dusty said. He turned to Ed with a sad smile. “I guess she belongs in your world now. She’s gone forever from mine.”
“Are you asking me to investigate?”
“No! Thank you, but no. Let’s leave her in peace, at last.”
I was bearing down on Ed, who was right beside me, willing him with all my might to refrain from any more talk about ghosts – Chrissy or even Violet. In all the years I’ve known him and as good a man as I believe him to be, I’ve had to remind him many a time that a ghost is still a person, not just an interesting phenomenon. In this case, relatives of both ghosts happened to be sitting right there at the table.
With a wary glance at me, Ed decided to take the moment to thank Rita for the copy of the video from the Violet Room.
“I always insist on the completeness of my files,” he told her gravely. “One never knows what new technology may present itself in the future, enabling us to access sub-wavelengths. If I’m ever able to bring up further imagery from that video, I will be sure to let you know immediately.”
“Thank you, Ed,” she said, and I wondered if I was the only one who knew she wasn’t just humoring him.
Which was all very nice, but before I could stop him, Ed went on to enlarge on the contents of the video.
“It disturbs me to think that your grandmother, Miss Violet, may have inadvertently sent poor Sheila to her death that night. However, I cast no aspersions. I’m sure Miss Violet only wanted her room to herself again. Now, the other ghost –”
“Dusty, have you tried these finger sandwiches,” I said abruptly, slinging a tier tray at the poor man. “Watercress. It’s an herb. Go ahead, it’s good for you. Agatha Christie said so.”
He thanked me, but he wouldn’t be sidetracked. Going right back to Ed, he asked, “What other ghost?”
“Well, I have a theory about that, with your permission, Taylor.”
“Denied.”
“Oh, come, come –”
From the other end of the table, Michael said, “Oh, go ahead. I want to know, too. What other ghost?”
“Thank you, sir,” Ed said with a little bow. “I refer to the other grandmother, Sheila’s grandmother this time. The portrait, Taylor. Remember how you described it to me?”
I never should have said a word about it to Ed, but yes, in a moment of lunacy, I’d told Ed about my dream, and the way the portrait had seemed to come alive during the duel between Grady and myself in the shop.
When I didn’t reply, he simply went on. “Living eyes. Boring into Grady with hatred and contempt, presiding over her treasures, fiercely guarding them from beyond the grave. Yes, I believe there was an influence there, one that kept you, Taylor, safe from attack, and delayed the villain long enough to be gathered in by the long arm of the law.”
He bowed to Jack, who seemed amused and nodded back in silent thanks.
“Yes, it’s been an interesting investigation,” Ed droned on. I began trying to locate his ankle so I could kick him without anybody noticing. “Yes, there were a few disappointments. I have yet to encounter a client who is genuinely hag-ridden, and the vampire turned out to be only a human being who’d never been bitten by anything more impressive than a mosquito. And the ghosts, as so often happens, were too elusive for any real documentation. But I live in hope. As always, Taylor, when we hunt together, I have learned – learned from unique and novel experiences, thrilled to your lightning intuition, and admired your dauntless courage.”
I got toasted again, from all over the table.
I was about to get up and ask for volunteers to help clear the table when Jasper nearly made me faint dead away by standing up, lifting his glass and saying very formally, “I’ve got a toast to make, too.”
Stupefied, everyone hastily reached for their glasses.
“To all of you,” he said. “And all the people of Tropical Breeze that make a man happy to be alive. When I thought I was about to die, the only thing that really made me sad was the thought that I’d have to leave all of you. My friends. To the Breezers.”
“To the Breezers!”
We drank. And maybe we got a little misty-eyed.
The End
Mary Bowers, The Five Strangers
