THE HOUSE THAT VANITY BUILT

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  Lupe crossed herself. “You have to understand, the doctor saved my life, and for that, I’m forever thankful. You won’t hear any different from me, no matter how difficult he can be. But, please, whatever you do, promise me you won’t say anything.”

  “I don’t plan to. I’m not interested in anyone but Jared. What I need to know is more about his friends, his rat pack. Who they are and how often they were here.”

  “I can’t really say. Most nights, I leave here about eight p.m. If Jared had friends up to the house, it was after I left. During the day, sometimes I’d see Billy. He was in and out with the bees. And, of course, Raul, Jared’s best man. I always thought Raul had a thing for Amy and was looking for an excuse to hang out so he could be around her.”

  “A thing?”

  “You know, a crush. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.”

  I made a mental note. Raul wouldn’t be the first best man guilty of lusting after a groom’s fiancée. But I knew there wasn’t room for Raul in Amy’s heart.

  “What about Jared’s cousin, Matthew?” I asked. “Did he hang out here as well?”

  “Not so much. Sometimes he’d come by with his mother to play tennis. She’s here a couple of days a week. Works out with her coach or sometimes just hits balls.”

  “The doctor play?”

  “Not anymore. But from time-to-time, when Madeline’s done, she stops by with Matthew, and they visit with the doctor on the veranda, and I’ll fix them iced tea.”

  “She doesn’t rush off to work?”

  “Work? I doubt the doctor’s sister ever had a job.”

  “She doesn’t have anything to do with the company?”

  “Other than to represent them at various charity functions? No. I don’t think so. She’s more of a social butterfly.”

  I thought back to the Red Tesla I had seen parked in the motor court.

  “That her car out front, the Tesla?”

  “I wouldn’t know. She changes cars like some women change clothes. Always drives a different car.”

  I laughed. “The rich and famous, huh?”

  “They can afford to live differently.” Lupe took another sip from her cup, and I raised my glass to her.

  “How about Billy? Is he around today?”

  “I saw him out back when I was talking with the gardener. He’s planning on moving his hives. He said he didn’t think he could stay around any longer. He feels awful about Jared and what happened. I think he blames himself.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?” I asked.

  “Some psychic you are. The coroner called the doctor this morning. The tests he ran came back positive for bee venom. The doctor told Billy, and now Billy’s packing up. Can’t say as I blame him.”

  “I need to talk to Billy,” I said. “Hail me if the doctor comes back, will you? I don’t think it’d be good for you if he knew you’d let me in.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I’m sure I am,” I said.

  “So we’re good then? You’re not going to tell the doctor about the ring—”

  “Or bust you with ICE or anybody else,” I said.

  “Good, then I’ll call Roger at the guard shack. We’re friends. I’ll ask him to let me know when the doctor drives through the gate.”

  Chapter 14

  I left Wilson in the house with his lady friends and asked Lupe if I might borrow the golf cart. My arthritic knees weren’t up to hiking the entire estate in search of Billy. Lupe acquiesced, so long as I promised to return the cart in good shape. I assured her it wouldn’t be a problem, and with a quick wink to Wilson, added, “I’ve been told I drive like a little old lady. You’ll hardly have to worry.”

  The golf cart had more spunk than I anticipated. My foot had barely hit the pedal when it took off like a baby bird on its first flight. I held tight to the wheel, and like a drunken sailor, nearly rolled the cart as I turned away from the big house. With the wind in my hair, I zigged and zagged down the path, past the guest house, and onward toward the garage.

  Billy was in the drive, loading his truck. When he saw me and realized I wasn’t Lupe, he dropped his tool belt into the truck’s flatbed and headed for the garage.

  “Billy?” I shouted.

  He stopped and turned back to me. “Do I know you?”

  I parked the cart and shuffled toward the truck. “I’m a friend of Amy’s. I thought we should talk.”

  This was the first time I’d seen Billy close up. Beneath a healthy head of hair, he appeared to be a sweet-faced, gentle-natured young man.

  “Amy came to visit me a couple of days ago. My name’s Misty Dawn.”

  I waited to see if there was a response. If perhaps my name might trigger a reaction. I saw none, just a confused look and a sense of angst that buzzed around him with more flurry than the bees in the hives in the yard next to us.

  “Lupe told me you’re leaving.”

  “Yeah, what’s it to you?” Billy walked back to the garage and returned with a shovel and a rake and tossed them into the truck’s bed.

  “Seems a little sudden, that’s all. Everything okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay, not at all. The doctor told me this morning the coroner called. He said after the coroner completed the autopsy, he ran some skin tests, and the results had come back from the lab. They found bee venom on Jared’s neck and face, a small amount, but enough to trigger a reaction.”

  “And you’re feeling guilty. Thinking maybe you’re to blame.”

  Billy jerked his head back. The realization I had read his mind unsettled him.

  “Yeah, well, I was with Jared when it happened, so who else could it be? I got stung that morning. A couple of bees got inside my mask, and I had an open bite on my neck. I cleaned it up, but evidently not enough. Must have been me who exposed him.”

  I closed my eyes. I could see the scene in my mind’s eye: a thin, nearly invisible veil of bee venom on Jared’s neck, and his reaction. A physical manifestation I could feel within my own body. A clamminess. A tightness about my chest and throat, followed by a shortness of breath, and itching. Jared’s exposure to the bee venom had been so subtle it had killed him without any outward sign of the attack or the attacker. Like death by the Visha Kanya. But I doubted that attacker had been Billy. There may have been bee venom on Jared’s neck, but the idea that Billy had accidentally exposed Jared to bee venom from an open sore just didn’t fit. Billy would have been too careful in treating the wound, and the likelihood of any bee venom remaining on his neck from that morning would have been highly unusual, if not almost impossible. The venom from a sting would have been internal, not external. Like a magnet that repels, the picture of Billy as Jared’s murderer just wouldn’t come together. Something was missing.

  “You’re leaving because Jared died, and you’re afraid everyone will blame you?” I asked.

  “I don’t think the doctor’s going to want me around. Kind of a sore reminder, don’t you think?”

  I could feel Billy’s pain. The overwhelming sense of guilt he had done something to cause Jared’s sudden death.

  “Have you told Amy?”

  “What? That I’m leaving?” Billy rested his hands on the rim of the truck bed. “I don’t imagine she’s thinking about me right now.”

  “I think you’re wrong about that. I’m a psychic. Amy came to me because she was confused. She thought she had lost something, and she wanted me to help her find it. I think you know what it is.”

  Billy’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Amy doesn’t know it, at least not consciously, but she was afraid if she married Jared, she’d lose you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “She’s confused, and she needed to talk to
someone. The two of you have a history together, and I don’t believe it’s finished.”

  Billy backed away from the truck.

  “You still care for her, Billy. It’s written all over your face.”

  “Look, I never did anything to come between Amy and Jared. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and Amy was happy. So I was happy for her, okay?”

  “Are you telling me, or are you telling yourself?”

  “Hey, it’s not like I could compete. Take a look around. This place is a palace, and Amy was about to be the queen. What have I got? A truck and a couple of angry beehives.”

  “I think you underestimate Amy. I don’t believe she’s all that materialistic. The city can be overwhelming, especially for someone who’s not familiar with all the trimmings. It’s easy to get a little distracted. When she moved here, she’d just lost her mother. It’s understandable, don’t you think she might feel a little lost?”

  “She told you that?”

  “Some of it. Some I pull from those I talk to. That is if they’re open to being read.”

  “You trying to pull something from me?”

  “Only if you’ll allow me to.”

  “Well, I’m not into that. I don’t believe in psychics, and I don’t have time to waste.” Billy walked back into the garage and returned with a toolbox.

  I glanced back at the hives. “What about bees, you going to take them too?”

  “I’ll come back for them later, but for now, I’m outta here.”

  Billy tossed the toolbox into the truck bed and turned to open the cab door. As he did, the box flipped open and fell onto its side. He reached back into the truck bed to close it, but before he could, several tools fell out, along with a small, cylinder-shaped tube.

  His eyes met mine.

  “Is that an EpiPen?” I asked.

  “Yeah. So what?” Billy picked up the pen and stuffed it back into the box with the other tools. “The doctor gave it to me a couple of weeks ago. Told me he wanted me to have it, just in case. I guess you would say he had a premonition. Too bad I didn’t have it with me the night of Jared’s party. Maybe it could have made a difference.”

  “But Jared had one,” I said. “I know because the police spoke with everyone who was at the party.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. The cops spoke to me too and a couple of the other guys as well. We all saw Jared use it, but it didn’t work. If it had, he’d probably still be here.” Billy picked up the toolbox and put it on the passenger seat inside the truck’s cab. “Look, lady, I’m sorry, I need to go.”

  I backed away from the truck. “If you need to talk to me, Amy’s got my number.”

  “Don’t hold your breath.” Billy got in the truck and slammed the door.

  I returned the golf cart to the house, where Lupe stood outside the back door, anxiously waiting for me. The doctor had come home, but because the Rolls had been parked to the side of the house, he hadn’t noticed it. Lupe wasn’t taking any chances. She wanted me out and pointed to a gate alongside the house and told me to leave, quickly as possible.

  When I got back to the Rolls, Wilson was sitting behind the wheel, playing with a ladybug. The creature had flown through the open window and landed on his hand. Wilson watched it as it gently crawled along his index finger, and then as though the ladybug knew it was time to go, took flight and escaped the car.

  For the moment, Wilson appeared lost in thought.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Do you think it’s really possible to communicate with animals, to get them to do your bidding, like Eli and Christina claim?”

  “I assume you’re speaking about the gophers and the holes in the doctor’s garden?”

  Wilson looked over at me as he put the car in gear. “And the bird doo-doo on the doctor’s car. Can luminaries really do that?”

  “Easily,” I said.

  I shared with him a story that forever changed my life. Years ago, when I had first come to California, I lived in a hippy commune. At the time, my friends and I were searching for peace, love, and a connectivity between ourselves and the universe. I was committed to finding that connection, and as will happen, where we place our energies, results will follow. For me, it was a news story about a giant sea turtle that had rescued a woman who had been shipwrecked in the Philippines. She had been sailing with friends and washed overboard. Just when she was about to give up hope—fearing the worst was about to happen—this giant turtle appeared from beneath the depths below. She grabbed hold of its shell, and for two days, the turtle towed her on his back. Never once did the turtle dive for food, which would have been its natural instinct. Instead, it swam with her, clinging to his shell, until a ship headed into port, spotted her, and tossed her a life preserver. Only when the woman was safely aboard, did the turtle swim away. From that day on, I felt certain there was a connection between our world and the animal kingdom, and the veil that separates us from this world and the next.

  “I don’t know what spirit communicated with the turtle and directed it to save her, or why. But I knew if I honed my talents, I might be able to better understand that connectivity between my mortal world and the next. I’ve made it my mission to do so.”

  “And have you,” Wilson asked, “learned to communicate with animals?”

  “It’s not as easy for mortals. Even for me. There’s a gravity on this side of the veil that holds us from accepting the energy that exists among all living things. Birds. Bees. Even flowers and trees. Everything’s connected. Ancient cultures believed it. The early Indians in this country believe it. But today the world is full of skeptics, and there’s so much noise, it’s hard to tap into. Your lady friends, however, understand it all too well. And while they can’t tap into that energy to create anything more than a nuisance, they are able to persuade those creatures with whom they come in contact to do what comes naturally.”

  “Is it something I could learn?”

  “When you’re ready, yes. It’s the next level for you. It would mean you’re advancing, moving onward. But I would hope you’d use it for good and not evil. How you use it would be very decisive for your future.”

  “You mean instead of selfishly communicating with gophers and requesting they dig holes or instruct pigeons to poop on windshields and Italian leather?”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  Chapter 15

  Detective Romero arrived just as I was about to sit down to dinner. Not that I was surprised. I needed to chat with him, especially after I’d seen the EpiPen in Billy’s truck. It would have been illegal for me not to call and let Detective Romero know about the EpiPen since I knew they were looking for one. Not that I was convinced Billy was hiding it or that he was responsible for Jared’s death. But because if I didn’t, I might later be accused of aiding and abetting a potential suspect.

  However, I wasn’t in any hurry to reach out to the detective. I knew he would call me. I could feel it in my bones. He had news, an update I expected, and a convenient excuse to stop by. So instead of calling him, I busied myself and made a fresh pot of tomato soup with an assortment of heirloom tomatoes from my garden and garnished it with a sprig of wild rosemary. I had just sat down to wait when my front bell rang. Soon as I opened the door and got a whiff of the detective’s cologne, I knew I wasn’t the sole purpose of his visit.

  “On your way to dinner?” I asked.

  Romero stepped inside. “How did you know?”

  “Really, Detective? You have to ask?” I shut the door behind him and shuffled back to the kitchen with the detective behind me.

  For all practical purposes, Romero was a reluctant believer, one I considered to be on the cusp. Content only if I could provide him with the type of evidence he could drag into court before a judge and jury.

  “Denise wants to try a new restaurant tonight. A French place, The Petit
Trois, down on the boulevard.” Romero went directly to the stove and lifted the top off the soup pot. “I thought I’d stop by on the way to pick her up and say hello.”

  “Nonsense.” I slapped Romero’s hand with the back of a wooden spoon. “You’re here because you’re either concerned about my mysterious visitor in the gray sedan, or you have an update on our case. Which is it, Detective?”

  Romero replaced the lid on the pot. “Neither. In fact, I’m not convinced whoever followed you home the other day was someone from Jared’s memorial. And forensics didn’t find any prints on the rock. It’s more likely a disgruntled client or someone in the neighborhood who doesn’t like psychics. After all, you are new here.” Romero rubbed his hands together. “As for our case, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s not much there. The coroner found traces of bee venom on Jared’s neck and face, but rather than anything malicious, he’s convinced Jared had an allergic reaction from the cologne he used the night of his party. The doctor, however, doesn’t think so. He says that’s impossible. That the cologne Jared always used was from Conroy’s venom-free line. Either way, the coroner doesn’t believe Jared’s death was a homicide. As a result, close as Dr. Conroy is to the department, LAPD’s pulling back. The doctor’s not happy about it, but what are you going to do? There’s not enough manpower to chase a case just because someone thinks things just don’t feel right.”

  Feel right? I sensed the detective’s comment was a jab at me. I sat down and took a sip of my soup, then slammed the soup spoon down on the table.

  “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in knowing what I’ve been up to? Or what doesn’t feel right to me about the case?”

  Before Romero could answer, Wilson entered the kitchen with Bossypants behind him. Bossy jumped up on the counter, and Wilson, who was still wounded from the detective’s previous comment concerning my—or his—driving like a little old lady, began to bat the copper pots above my head with the flat of his hand. I stifled a laugh, stood up, and grabbed the cat in one hand while I steadied the pans above my head with the other. From the startled look on Romero’s face, I could see he was questioning whether the pots had swung as a result of the cat’s quick movement or if perhaps I had done something to cause the disruption. Rather than entertain an excuse, I sat back down and smiled innocently.