Full Bloom

by Janet Evanovich

  “Just do me a favor and stop trying to help me, okay? I’m in enough trouble.”

  • • •

  “How do you think Annie is holding up?” Jamie asked Destiny when she arrived at the office to pick up her mail.

  Destiny shrugged. “As well as can be expected considering most of the town thinks she murdered her husband.” She looked at Max. “It meant a lot to her that you retained a lawyer for her.” Destiny paused and shot a glance toward the door. “Please don’t just stand there.” She pointed to the sofa.

  Max and Jamie followed Destiny’s gaze. “I take it your spirit is with you?” he asked.

  “Like I have a choice? But I’m going to solve the problem once and for all. We have an appointment with a therapist in an hour.”

  Max and Jamie exchanged looks.

  “Hold it, Destiny,” Jamie said, “and let me get this straight. You’re actually taking a spirit, an entity that no one but you can see, to a psychologist? Do you think that’s wise?”

  “She needs help. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

  “What kind of help does she need?” Max said.

  “I think she’s suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  Max nodded as though it made complete sense. “I know I’m going out on a limb here, but what if this therapist doesn’t believe you?”

  “He will. I mean, what kind of person would admit to this sort of thing unless it’s for real?”

  “A delusional person?” Jamie suggested.

  Destiny glanced at the sofa. “Don’t start shaking your head. We’ve already discussed this, and you agreed to go.” She turned back to Max and Jamie. “Believe it or not, most, if not all, of my friends have been in therapy for years. Trust me; I know what I’m doing.”

  “May I borrow your muscles for about ten minutes?” Annie asked Wes when he returned from his outing.

  “Sure. How can I help?”

  “I need to set up some tables in the ballroom for the wedding on Saturday.”

  “Lead the way.” He followed her toward the living room and through a door that led into a massive room with highly polished wood floors, ornate woodwork, bronzed statues, and the tallest ceiling he’d ever seen, on which fat white clouds had been painted. Wes gazed up at them, so realistic, and for a moment they seemed to be moving. He wasn’t aware that Annie was watching him, a smile playing on her lips. It was impossible for him to look away. He thought he saw something in the clouds, but the harder he stared the more difficult it became.

  “Don’t try so hard,” Annie said. “It’s like looking at one of those three-D illusion pictures.”

  Wes relaxed his shoulders, neck, and eyes and simply waited. He had an odd sense of the clouds being alive somehow, as though something pulsed in their centers. The clouds seemed to expand and contract, the edges becoming crisp and distinct, and their roundness began to take on human forms, Ruben-esque women and powerfully built men, and from behind, a radiant light somehow seemed to pass through them and purify their nakedness so that it was a thing of beauty. Wes blinked, and the forms faded once more into the clouds.

  He looked to Annie for answers.

  “One of my ancestors commissioned a French artist to paint something on the ceiling,” she said. “He spent three years on the project. Most people can’t see what’s really there.”

  “What is it about this house?”

  “I’m not sure. I just know it’s important to preserve it. That’s why I could never sell it.”

  Wes was quiet as Annie led him to an adjacent storage area where a number of tables, legs folded inside, were propped against one wall. Dozens of metal folding chairs with padded seats had been stacked around the room as well.

  Annie selected seven large round tables, and she and Wes carried them into the ballroom and placed them near the wall. “I need to make sure there’s enough room for dancing,” she said.

  Annie was breathing hard by the time they’d lugged some fifty-plus chairs into the room, placing eight at each table. “Boy, I must be out of shape,” she said.

  Wes looked her up and down. “Your shape looks fine to me.”

  “Anybody ever tell you you’ve got a silver tongue?”

  He grinned. “As a matter of fact, I have received a few compliments with regard to dexterity—”

  “Never mind,” Annie said. “I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

  “Perhaps it’s time we should. Too bad you’re already involved.”

  She knew he was referring to Danny, but she shrugged it off because it was difficult to explain the relationship she shared with him and because she was beginning to sense a subtle change in Danny. Perhaps it had been there all along and she’d simply been too wrapped up in other things to notice. Like with the clouds, she thought. One had to pause and look closely to see what was really there.

  “The guy is in love with you, Annie.”

  “I can’t think about that right now, Wes. Not with everything else that’s going on.”

  “You might have to,” he said. “I suspect he has been in love with you for a long time. The question is: what would he be willing to do to have you all to himself?”

  Annie frowned. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “It hasn’t crossed your mind?”

  “Not even once. Danny would never.”

  “People will do almost anything to protect the person they love,” Wes said.

  Annie suddenly laughed. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous of him.”

  He grinned. “I’m not the jealous type, because I always get the girl in the end.”

  “You are so full of yourself, Bridges.”

  He stepped closer and toyed with a lock of hair. Annie met his gaze. “How about it, Annie?” he said softly. “How about you and me? Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like?” He traced the lines of her mouth with one finger. “Think about it.”

  She watched him go. Holy hell, she thought. How could he possibly not know that she hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the minute she’d laid eyes on him? It was Destiny’s fault. All the woman talked about was sex. Sex, sex, sex. Anyone who thought about sex that much had a serious problem. Of course, Destiny would never admit to it; she blamed it on the house.

  Annie looked around the room. With all the naked statues and titillating art filling the rooms, it was impossible not to think of sex. But maybe there was more to it, she thought. What if Destiny was right and there was something about the house itself that caused people to feel more sensual?

  Annie walked over to one of the walls and pressed an open palm against it. She waited. She didn’t feel any different. She tried the other palm. The wall was surprisingly warm. Why had she not noticed it before? It warmed her hand and slowly moved past her wrist and up her arm. Annie wondered if she was just imagining it, even as the tension seemed to drain from the muscles in her shoulders and on either side of her spine. Her body became loose, and she was filled with a sense of well-being. Her mind floated.

  She thought of Wes. The two of them locked together, embracing. Warm and naked in her bed, Wes’s hands caressing her, deft fingers seeking. And suddenly his mouth on her, tasting, and her breath becoming rapid. Her reaching out, grasping him tightly as he filled her.

  “Oh, my Lord!” she said, and snatched her hand from the wall.

  The bearded man sitting across from Destiny read the form she had filled out. Finally, he looked up. Kind eyes peered out from beneath bushy gray brows. “Okay, Miss Doe,” he began.

  “You may call me Jane, Dr. Smithers.”

  “How may I help you, Jane?” he asked.

  “I know this is going to sound strange,” she began.

  “Please feel free to speak your mind. You’re safe here.”

  “I have a problem with dead people following me around. Sometimes there are more than just one of them; they just latch on to me and won’t let go. It’s driving me c
razy.”

  “I’m sorry you’ve been having such a hard time,” he said.

  “The problem is convincing them they’re dead and pointing them to the light. Like this redneck named Ronnie who got drunk and fell out of the back of a pickup truck while coon hunting,” she said. “He died instantly, but he was too dumb to realize it. Followed me everywhere, even came into the shower with me. He was a pervert.”

  “That must have been awful for you.”

  “Took me forever to get rid of him. I finally lied and told him there was a strip bar on the other side of the light, and let me tell you, he hauled ass the minute I said it.”

  Dr. Smithers looked sympathetic and he made notes on his tablet. “Tell me about your childhood, Jane.”

  Destiny frowned. “My childhood? Listen, Doctor, we don’t have time to go into that. I have more immediate problems. There’s a new spirit following me, and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since she showed up.

  “She was a prostitute many years ago. She met her death violently, and that’s why she’s still hanging around. But I can’t help her, because she won’t talk. I’m pretty sure she’s a mute.” Destiny leaned closer. “There are other problems that I can’t discuss with you in her presence because she’s blocking them.”

  One hairy brow arched high on Smithers’s forehead. “She’s in the room with us?”

  “Yes. I’m hoping you’ll hypnotize her and help her remember these things in her past that are too painful for her to face alone.”

  Dr. Smithers put down his pen and studied Destiny closely. “Let me make certain I understand what you’re asking,” he said. “You want me to provide counseling and hypnotherapy for a spirit. So she will go to the light.”

  “Right. But first she has to help solve a murder. See, a friend of mine has been charged with murdering her husband and burying his body. If I could get this spirit to talk—her name is Lacey, by the way—she might be able to tell us who the real killer is. Oh, and if you could convince her to stop stealing our underwear in the meantime, that would be great,” Destiny added.

  He took a deep breath. “Okay, back to this friend of yours who has been charged with murder,” he began patiently. “Is this person a spirit as well?”

  “No, she’s real.”

  “So you’re able to differentiate between what’s real and what’s not?”

  Destiny gave him an odd look. “Excuse me?”

  He smiled gently. “I believe I can help you, Jane.”

  Annie was setting the table for dinner when Max and Jamie arrived. “Bad news,” Jamie said. “Destiny called as we were leaving the office. She’s been locked up in a psychiatric ward.”

  Annie, Theenie, and Lovelle just stared back at her, looks of astonishment on their faces. Finally, Theenie spoke. “I’m not surprised. I suspected her elevator was one floor short.”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Lovelle said.

  “It’s all my fault,” Jamie said. “I knew what she was planning to do, and I didn’t stop her.”

  “I’m equally responsible,” Max said. “I should have tried to talk her out of it.”

  Annie finally found her voice. “What did she do?”

  Jamie sighed. “She took the spirit to see a psychologist, hoping he could help her overcome her fears of what happened that traumatized her. I don’t know the whole story, because Destiny and I only spoke briefly. She’s pretty upset, says she’s surrounded by crazy people.”

  “Jeez Louise,” Annie muttered. “They’re going to throw away the key. What else can go wrong?”

  “Don’t ask,” Theenie and Lovelle said in unison.

  “What should we do?” Annie asked.

  “Nunamaker is going to take her case,” Max said. “He can’t do anything tonight, but he promised to check on it first thing in the morning. I personally want to know how it all came down. You can’t just lock someone up without going through the proper channels.” He looked at Jamie. “We need to get going.”

  “Are you sure you can’t stay for dinner?” Annie asked.

  “We’re dining tonight with Max’s family,” Jamie said. “We wanted to tell you about Destiny because we knew you’d worry when she didn’t come home tonight.”

  Wes came through the back door soon after Max and Jamie left. He glanced about the kitchen. “Uh-oh. How come every time I walk into this house I sense another catastrophe? A new drama?” he added.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annie said. “Everything is fine.”

  “Couldn’t be better,” Theenie said, obviously following Jamie’s lead.

  Lovelle nodded. “Life is good.”

  “Not only that,” Annie said brightly. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Isn’t Erdle eating with us?” Theenie asked once everyone was seated at the table.

  “He’s probably embarrassed,” Annie told her. “I lowered the boom on him after the stunt he pulled.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t a stunt after all,” Wes cut in.

  All three women just looked at him.

  Wes shrugged. “It’s a thought. He could have had his buddy lie for him.”

  “I don’t think Erdle could stay sober enough to get away with murder,” Theenie said. She looked at Annie. “We really should get him some help.”

  Annie nodded. “I worry about him, too. I’ll take a plate over after dinner.”

  “He’s probably out cold and won’t hear you,” Lovelle said. “You’ll have to climb through his kitchen window like before. Maybe this time he won’t have his underwear soaking in the sink. Maybe he got rid of that mouse and you won’t sprain your ankle again running from it.”

  “It won’t be easy climbing in a window with a plate of food in your hand,” Theenie said. “I would help you if I wasn’t afraid that mouse was still in his house.” She shuddered.

  Something hit the cabinet door and everyone jumped. Peaches sat there looking at Annie. “You’ve already eaten,” she said. Peaches began batting the door with her paw, never taking her eyes off Annie.

  “We should drop that cat through Erdle’s kitchen window,” Lovelle said. “She’d sober him up right quick.”

  “That’s mean,” Annie said, although she grinned at the thought.

  The garbage can toppled to its side and dumped trash to the floor. Peaches stuck her head inside searching for food. Annie pretended not to notice.

  “I’ll clean it up,” Wes said, shoving his chair from the table.

  “It can wait,” Annie said. “Go ahead and finish your dinner.”

  “She’s making a big mess,” he said.

  “Trust me. It’s best to ignore her when she gets into a mood.”

  The garbage can rocked back and forth. Inside, Peaches kept digging, and before long all the litter was on the floor. The garbage can began to roll. It rolled through the open swinging doors and into the dining room and kept going. Something shattered in one of the rooms. The women didn’t look up from their meals.

  “Is there ever a peaceful moment in this house?” Wes asked.

  Annie looked at him, remembering he once had referred to it as a crazy house. “All the time.”

  Lovelle nodded. “It’s usually real quiet around here.”

  “Boring, you might say,” Theenie added.

  Wes went back to eating. “By the way, where’s Destiny?”

  “Locked up in a mental hospital,” Annie replied, concentrating on her food once more.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  It was after 10:00 PM by the time Annie showered and climbed into bed. Theenie and Lovelle had turned in early, and Wes, who’d selected a Ludlum book from a stack in the sunroom, had gone up shortly afterward. Annie set her alarm clock, turned off the light, and snuggled deep beneath the covers, not because she was cold but because she needed to feel the heaviness of the blankets on her, the sense of security their weightiness evoked.

  Moonlight peeked through her window and cast a soft glow in the room. Annie had sl
ept in this room the very first time she remembered visiting her grandmother, and it had become her own when she moved in. She’d felt safe and loved, knowing the woman was just next door. Annie had remained in her small room even after her grandmother had died. She’d closed off the grand master suite with its ornate furnishings and mirrored ceiling, slipping inside from time to time for a nap on the tall rice bed, covering herself with the woman’s favorite shawl.

  Shortly before Annie was to be married to Charles, she had packed her grandmother’s clothes and personal items and moved them to the attic, and eventually the woman’s scent had faded, replaced with Charles’s Aramis cologne and Annie’s simple White Linen perfume. Their lovemaking was squeezed in between Larry King Live and David Letterman. When their marriage began to sour, Charles channel-surfed during the hour-long gap and Annie spent her evenings reading magazines on “How to heat up your sex life,” “How to drive your man crazy in bed,” and “Satisfying him every time.”

  She obviously hadn’t gotten it right, or so she thought at the time, because one day Charles was there and the next day he was gone. Annie moved back into her old room and read magazines on “How to survive the split,” “Life after divorce,” and being “Happily single.”

  Annie jumped when something hit her door, and she heard Peaches mewing on the other side. She thought of putting a pillow over her head to drown out the sound, but she was afraid the cat would wake the others. Annie dragged herself from her bed and opened the door, but the cat started down the hall toward the steps leading to the kitchen. Darn cat, she thought. It would be easier if she just stuffed a feeding tube down her throat.

  “Peaches,” Annie called out softly as she tiptoed down the hall. “Come here, Peaches.” The cat made a sound low in her throat and dashed away.

  Annie saw it before she felt it, something light and wispy hovering several yards away, coming toward her slowly. She froze as she caught sight of a woman’s face and long swirling hair, barely visible but there nevertheless. Then, a brush of cool air against her cheek, the smell of flowers, and the feeling that something was swirling around her. The air shifted and became icy cold.