THE HOUSE THAT VANITY BUILT

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “Happy times, huh?”

  “More than happy. I probably shouldn’t be saying, but it’ll be public soon enough anyway—what with the press and all. Amy’s pregnant.”

  I smiled. Not so much for the news. I already knew about Amy’s condition, but because it was clear the alcohol Lupe had been tipping that morning had loosened her tongue, and it was to my advantage. Another housekeeper might not have been so forthcoming.

  “Is the doctor okay with that?”

  “More than okay. He kept saying they were all going to be a family again. That this was a new start, and things were going to change. The doctor insisted on family dinners. He wanted music piped throughout the house. He even started working in his garden again. And Amy? That girl’s amazing. For the doctor’s birthday, she baked him a cake. Homemade. Girls just don’t do that anymore.”

  “She sounds perfect,” I said. Too perfect for her own good, I thought. Carlene had chosen well. A more sophisticated girl might have been more aware she was but a pawn in a game of chess between a father and his son’s desire to achieve financial independence and played along for her own selfish gain.

  “We all couldn’t wait for Amy to move in. She’d stay over, but she didn’t want to move in until after the wedding. She was old-fashioned like that and wanted to wait until it was official.” Lupe paused. I could feel she was holding something back. “I just wish…”

  “Wish what?” I asked.

  “I can’t help but think things might have gone differently if she had moved in.”

  “Why?”

  “Maybe Jared wouldn’t have started drinking. Amy wasn’t a drinker. She knew Jared couldn’t handle liquor. She would have stopped him if she knew. It might have been different.”

  “Do you think Jared was drinking last night?”

  “I can’t be sure. There was a lot going on. I try to stay out of the way, but when I went into the master bath to hang the towels, I passed Matthew in the bedroom. He was standing in front of the dresser with a drink in his hand. I asked him if he needed anything, and he said no. He had just come in to use the bathroom.”

  “Not the hall bath?”

  “No, but Matthew’s family, and it wasn’t my business where he was in the house. However, I was worried he might have hidden another flask for Jared.”

  “Did you look?”

  “I didn’t have time. The doorbell rang, and Matthew left. Dr. Conroy had come down to say goodnight. I could hear the doctor and Matthew in the other room, talking and laughing together. I didn’t want the doctor to know I was there, so I stayed in the bath and busied myself polishing the faucet and rearranging the towels.”

  “Were you worried if the doctor knew you were there, he would be upset?”

  “He didn’t feel it proper if I got too close. He preferred I keep it professional.”

  “Employers,” I said. “If they only knew how important that personal touch could be to those we work with.”

  Lupe smiled. “Not enough of that these days.”

  “Don’t I know it. The world’s just too busy.”

  “Amen to that.”

  I smiled and touched her shoulder, convinced I had persuaded Lupe of our shared values and had earned her trust, exactly as I wanted.

  “Was Jared surprised to see his father?” I asked.

  “I can’t be sure. I think the doctor was looking for an excuse to see if Jared was drinking. But a few moments later, they came into the bedroom, and Jared went over to the dresser and splashed some cologne on his face. Then Dr. Conroy patted him on his chest like he was checking for something.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “A flask, maybe? I’m not sure.”

  “Did he find anything?”

  “No. But then the doctor put his hand on Jared’s back, and the two of them turned and looked in the mirror.” Lupe pointed to a full-length mirror next to the armoire. “They looked so handsome together. Almost like they were posing for a portrait.”

  I stared at the mirror and noticed Wilson standing directly behind us, in front of the dresser. In his hand, he had a bottle of cologne.

  I shook my head. I didn’t have time to make this a learning moment and stop him from what I knew he was about to do. Shades have a tendency toward kleptomania, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had worked with Wilson long enough to know that when it came to our joint investigations, Wilson had free rein. Any problem I had while on the job I would have to take up with him later at home.

  I scowled. Don’t you dare. Wilson grinned back, his eyes locked on mine. Watch me. He spritzed the cologne about his head and shoulders and dabbed his neck. Then looking at me, as though he couldn’t help himself, opened his jacket, slipped the bottle inside his coat pocket, and shrugged.

  Lupe looked over her shoulder. The hint of Jared’s cologne wafted throughout the room. I could sense she was troubled by the scent. Before she could comment, I diverted her attention.

  “Did the doctor say anything else?”

  “He asked Jared if he had remembered his EpiPen.”

  “Had he?”

  “No, in fact, Jared had forgotten it.”

  “Where was it?”

  “In his dresser. Jared kept at least two there all the time. Just in case.”

  “Dr. Conroy always looked out for him like that?”

  “He did. In some ways, I suppose that was part of the trouble between the two. The doctor was always hovering about, second-guessing his son. Jared hated it, but the doctor never stopped. Always wanted Jared to look good and do well. Even after last night. When the cops came, the doctor asked me not to say anything about Jared’s drinking. He didn’t want it to get back to the media that Jared had slipped up and was drinking again. He said it didn’t matter, and there was no reason to ruin his name.”

  Lupe’s cell buzzed. She pulled the phone from an apron pocket and took the call.

  “It’s the guard gate. There’s another flower delivery. I can’t keep track of whether they’re for the wedding or the memorial. Terrible, isn’t it? I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the house. I don’t want them to disturb the doctor. You’ll have to excuse me.”

  Lupe stood up and started to hand me Jared’s tux, then stopped. “Oh, I almost forgot Amy’s ring! It’s in the pocket.”

  I glanced back at Wilson. I told you so. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity for him to know how accurate my prediction about Amy and her ring had been.

  “I found it on the bathroom sink. Amy must have left it there after she took a shower. I gave it to Jared for safekeeping. Poor girl, her fingers have swollen so much from the pregnancy, I suspect it had become uncomfortable to wear, and she took it off and forgot it. Jared insisted I not say anything. He put it in his tux pocket. He was going to surprise her with it at the wedding on Sunday.”

  Lupe slipped the ring into her apron pocket. I leaned in to take the tux and hug her goodbye. The woman had been through a lot and needed a little extra hug.

  “I’m sorry,” Lupe said, “I’m going to have to leave you here, but there’s a shortcut up the walk to the motor court in front of the big house where you parked. It’s flat and shouldn’t take but a minute.” Lupe pointed out the bedroom window to the path outside the front door.

  “Don’t worry about me,” I said. “I can let myself out. You go on ahead.”

  Chapter 6

  There were times when I felt like Wilson and I had slipped into a pattern, like an old married couple. Days when there was a comfortable silence between us, and we went about our respective roles with neither of us feeling the need to speak. Then there were times when his very presence irritated me—and we bickered.

  Today was one of those bickering days. Wilson had crossed a line at the Conroy guest house, and I was feeling testy. As we drove home, there was a chill between us.
Wilson was tight-lipped. His hands gripped the steering wheel. I was biding my time, waiting for the right opportunity to let him have it.

  I got as far as the front door then exploded.

  “How dare you steal that bottle of cologne. You know the rules.”

  “Rules?” Wilson stepped ahead of me into the house. “There you go again, Old Gal. Muttering on about your rules. As though something terrible would happen if I broke one now and again.”

  I stomped into the living room. This wasn’t the first time Wilson had returned home with a souvenir from one of our investigative missions. While I had tried to explain to him the importance of leaving a site untouched—if for no other reason than to not disturb evidence—he appeared not to care. After our last big case, I discovered an Emmy hidden beneath the desk. The award belonged to Zoey Chamberlain, a young actress we had been helping. I was upset he had made off with it, and even more concerned, he appeared to show no signs of remorse. I tried the old, you-can’t-take-it-with-you line, the title from one of his favorite plays. To which he replied that he didn’t believe it made much difference, particularly in the case of an actress who had so many, it would hardly be missed.

  Despite his obstinance, I continued to argue my case. “They’re not my rules. I don’t make them up.”

  “Oh, that’s right. They’re from a much higher power.” Wilson turned and made air quotes around the word as he spoke. “The universe!”

  “Which,” I reminded him, “could change its mind about you and your situation at any moment.” I had seen shades whisked away for lesser offenses than Wilson had committed that afternoon.

  “Obviously the universe isn’t concerned about me, is it? I’m still here, rules or otherwise.” Wilson took a seat on the wingback chair closest to the fireplace, stretched his legs out in front of him, and put his hands behind his head.

  I exhaled. “Stealing, no matter what side of the veil one is on, is just plain wrong. You’re a shade, and it’s my job to point it out to you. You should know better.”

  “Well, I know this.” Wilson took the cologne bottle from within his jacket and spritzed himself. “Jared’s not going to miss it. Besides, I’m not the only one who brought back a souvenir today, am I?”

  I turned my back and began to smooth out the wrinkles on Jared’s tux. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh? You’ll excuse me if I say I think differently. I saw what you did when Lupe handed you Jared’s tux. You may have tried to make it look like you were giving her a hug. Offering her a little emotional support. You do that so well. Always there with a hug for those in need. But, in truth, what you did was slip your hand into her pocket and take Amy’s ring. Admit it. You’re busted, Old Gal, I saw you!”

  I sat down on the edge of the couch, took the ring from my pocket, and held it against my chest. Damn, I hated when a shade was right.

  “Relax, your secret’s safe with me. Lupe didn’t see, and I don’t count, being as I’m not mortal. So what are you planning to do with it? Sell it?”

  “Please. I’m not a thief, Wilson. What I want to do is see if I can get a read off of it. Maybe learn something more about the Conroys before I give it back to Amy.”

  “Because you don’t trust Lupe to give it back to her, right?”

  “Not entirely. Lupe assumed she and Jared were the only two people who knew the ring was missing. She had no idea Amy had visited with me or that Amy had told Carlene about losing it. With Jared gone, and the doctor not exactly easy to work for, I was afraid the ring might be too tempting for her.”

  “May I see it?” Wilson put out his hand.

  I watched as he held the ring into the light, and like a jeweler, examined it.

  “Extraordinary. It’s at least three karats, maybe four if you count the smaller baguettes around it. And in an art-deco platinum setting like this, definitely one of a kind. Early twentieth century, I’d say.”

  Wilson placed the ring back into the palm of my hand. I folded my fingers over it and held it tightly against my chest. With my eyes closed, I waited until I felt I could get a sense of the spirits that surrounded the ring. Objects, particularly jewelry worn for a long period of time, absorb the wearer’s energy. What remains is like a shadow, and has a story to tell. For a fleeting second, I sensed Amy and the blush of a newly excited bride. I pushed my thoughts of her aside and invited what other spirits once attached to the ring to come closer.

  When I felt I had made a connection, I opened my eyes and moved the ring from the palm of my hand to the tip of my left thumb. The ring had a complicated past. With the tips of the fingers on my right hand, I rotated the ring counterclockwise toward my body so that I might go backward in time with its history.

  “The ring belonged to Jared’s mother. Before that, it had been his grandmother’s wedding ring.” I paused. My chest felt heavy. My breathing difficult. Not an unusual sensation when in the presence of an anxious spirit. “The grandmother was a brilliant woman. High energy, but strange and impulsive. I sense she suffered from long periods of darkness, and I’m not sure they were self-imposed. Her husband found her difficult and had her institutionalized. It wasn’t a happy marriage.” I paused again and closed my eyes. The metal felt cool between my fingers. “It’s a family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. Dr. Conroy’s father gave it to him shortly after the doctor met his bride. It was her engagement ring. Her name was—”

  “Elenore.” Wilson paused. “Elenore Leroy Conroy, to be exact. Eli for short. She was the face of Conroy Cosmetics, right up until her death. Ageless. And very beautiful. I was sitting with her and her friend in the solarium today.”

  I wondered when Wilson would get around to mentioning the women in the sunroom, but I didn’t want to break my concentration. I held my hand up.

  “Unfortunately, the ring didn’t bring her happiness. Things started out well, but Elenore and the doctor had a rocky relationship. She didn’t like to wear the ring. I feel as though it felt tight on her finger.” I continued to twist the ring around the tip of my thumb. “Telling, isn’t it? Amy felt the same thing. In fact, I believe Eli gave the ring back to the doctor at one point.”

  “Because there was another woman living with them,” Wilson said.

  “The woman sitting with you in the sunroom?”

  “Christina Munoz, his paramour. They had a baby together. Eli may have been the face of Conroy Cosmetics, but she was never the doctor’s only love.”

  I put the ring back in the palm of my hand and folded my fingers over it. “Conroy kept Christina and the baby close. Like a second family. I get the feeling they may have even lived with them.”

  “She lived in the guest house with her daughter. She was the Conroy’s housekeeper. They lived together until the girl graduated high school. Christina died the following year.”

  I stopped reading. “And these two women, were they friendly with each other?”

  “They are now,” Wilson said. “However, they were quite content to say it wasn’t always so.”

  I fisted the ring in the palm of my hand and put it in my lap. “We need to talk, Wilson. These women—”

  “You mean my lady friends?”

  I rolled my eyes. Under the best of circumstances, shades can be difficult. “You need to be careful. They are not ghosts. They’re luminaries.”

  Wilson moved to the couch and sat facing me. “You mean to tell me there’s a difference?”

  “Quite,” I said. “A luminary is more than a shade and less than a ghost.”

  “There’s a hierarchy?”

  “Yes,” I said. “But for now, all you need to know is a luminary is not a ghost. In the ancient world, they were considered to be a group of dispossessed spirits who refused the laws of the universe and remained close to the veil for self-serving purposes. Though sworn to do no harm, luminaries have been known
to plant thoughts in the heads of mortals and use their powers to get lesser souls to do their bidding.”

  “Like me?” Wilson pointed to himself. “You think I’m a lesser soul, and that I’m being used? Oh, what a delightful thought.”

  “There are times when you can be incorrigible. What you need to know and understand is that a luminary can be either good or evil. And in your current state as a shade, I’m not so sure you’d know the difference. But it’s important you believe me when I say they may try to use you. And you need to remember, you’re in a very vulnerable position.” I put the ring down on the coffee table. “Did they tell you why they were here?”

  Wilson shook his head. “I assume they’re just having fun with the doctor. Doing what they could to torment the old man.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning I was still thinking about Wilson and his lady friends when I was disturbed by the sound of an impatient rapping, like a woodpecker, on my front door, followed by an even more incessant hollering.

  “Misty? Misty? Are you home? I have bagels.”

  The voice belonged to Wilson’s sister, Denise Thorne. Realtor. Wannabe actress. And psychic junky. I did regular readings for Denise in exchange for her allowing me to live in her brother’s home. At the sound of his sister’s voice, Wilson slammed the door to the study.

  The love lost between the two siblings could fill an ocean. Wilson had made it very clear, despite his limboed-state, he preferred his sister’s visits to be short, if not at all.

  In a voice barely above a whisper, I put my head against the door to the study and said I’d do what I could to get rid of her. But I knew if I didn’t hurry, Denise would let herself in and burst through the front door like she owned the place. Which, in reality, she did.

  I managed to reach the door as she inserted her key.

  “Oh, good, you’re home.” Denise entered talking, like she always did, and with little attention to me or the house, brushed by me and made her way to the kitchen. “A client sent these over as a thank you. Way too many for our small office. And since I was showing a house down the street, I thought I’d drop them by.”