Murder Can Haunt Your Handiwork

by Rose Pressey

  A scowl appeared on his face, and he yelled, “Who are you?”

  He ran toward the window as if he might just jump right out at me. No way would I answer him.

  “Run,” I screamed to Mr. Vanderbilt.

  Why had I screamed at Mr. Vanderbilt? It wasn’t as if the man could see him. At least, I didn’t think he saw him. I took off around the side of the building, hoping that I would make it to my truck before this man made it out the back door. Unfortunately, when I turned the corner, he burst out the door like a caged animal released. I was trapped.

  After screaming rather loudly, I froze on the spot. My heart thumped wildly in my chest. The man ran over to me and grabbed me by the arms, much tighter than necessary.

  “Take your hands off her,” Mr. Vanderbilt yelled.

  “Who are you and why are you spying on me?” the man demanded.

  This was the perfect time to use that story I had concocted.

  “I was just searching for my dog.” I said in a shaky voice.

  Van huddled close to my chest. He wouldn’t even look at the stranger and shook just like me.

  “What?” the man snapped.

  “My dog took off, and I followed him here. I just happened to catch movement in the building. I wasn’t trying to break in or watch you, I promise.”

  His dark, beady eyes remained focused on me. A jagged scar snaked across his right cheek. After what seemed like an eternity, he released his hold. I exhaled and tried to calm my nerves, although I wasn’t convinced this was over. At any time, he could reach out and try to strangle me.

  “This is private property,” he said.

  “You tell him that you’re going to call the police for assaulting you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  Maybe I’d better leave well enough alone and not mention that. I just wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible.

  “You have your dog, so get out of here and don’t come back,” the man said.

  I wished there were something I could do to find out who this man was and why Deidre had been here. But as angry as he was, I wasn’t sure there was any way to bring up the subject.

  “You should walk away,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  He had a good idea. Why was I still standing here, allowing this man to glare at me? Maybe it was because I wanted to ask more questions. Actually, not only did I want to ask more questions, I needed to ask. It was something out of my control. My anxiety was through the roof. I had to get up enough nerve. What was the worst that could happen? Okay, I wouldn’t even think about the worst that could happen. Because that could be bad.

  “By the way, what is this building?” I asked.

  “Oh, dear. This isn’t a good idea,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “He’s even madder, and I wasn’t sure that was even possible.”

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business,” the man said.

  I could find out on my own. I didn’t need him. Though it would be much easier and faster if he’d just tell me. I supposed asking for his name would be out of the question, too.

  “You really should leave,” Mr. Vanderbilt urged.

  I moved around the man and hurried toward the parking lot. I wished he wouldn’t see what vehicle I got into, because once he saw it, he would never forget.

  “Is he watching me?” I asked.

  “Yes, his beady little eyes are burning a hole through you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  That made me feel even worse. If my family were here, they’d surely let him have it. If Grammy had seen him put his hands on me, she would’ve smacked him with her pocketbook. And he certainly would have deserved it. I just wanted to get out of there.

  “I’ve had an encounter with that man before,” I said.

  “Twice?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked. “That’s unfortunate.”

  “He wasn’t nice that time, either.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said.

  “He took our parking space at the diner. My brothers were really angry. I won’t bother to tell them that I ran into him again. The last thing I need is for them to come over here and confront this guy.”

  “He seems kind of unhinged. I’m concerned for Deidre.”

  “You’re probably right. I’m really concerned, too,” I said. “But what will I do about it?”

  “That I don’t know,” he said. “Possibly you should contact the police.”

  “Yes, I suppose that would be the right thing to do.”

  Telling them that I was snooping around wouldn’t be fun. I could use the same story about chasing after Van. Yeah, that probably wouldn’t work with the cops.

  “I hope you avoid any contact with this man in the future,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “I can’t guarantee that,” I answered. “After all, Deidre is supposed to meet him in two days.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Mr. Vanderbilt added.

  “Sometimes things just have to be done. There are a lot of things I don’t like. I would much prefer not to be involved in all of this and just do my craft fair. But I was sucked in.” I tossed my hands up. “It was as if the universe was telling me I needed to solve this case.”

  “But why?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked.

  “I hope to find out,” I said.

  Once at the parking lot, I turned toward the street.

  “Where are you going?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked as he hurried beside me.

  “I want to walk past so he won’t see me get into the truck. I can wait until he’s gone and come back for it.”

  “Oh, good thinking,” he said.

  As I headed down the sidewalk, I walked by the truck as if I’d never seen it before. How would I check to see if the man watched me? Take steady breaths, I reminded myself. Remain calm, I thought.

  Once I was down the sidewalk, I hid behind a magnolia tree with Van in my arms. The scent from the large white flowers permeated the air. Van sniffed the air around him.

  “This will seem awfully suspicious if anyone sees you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “The key is that no one will see me.”

  “That would be ideal, yes,” he said. “Things don’t always work out according to plans.”

  “You’re telling me. Do you think he’s gone?” I asked.

  “I wouldn’t see why not, unless he comes after you,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “Oh, don’t say that.”

  “Well, you have to think about the reality. He did seem angry.”

  “Yes, I suppose he was angry. I’ll just take a peek out and see if he’s there,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, he’s gone,” Mr. Vanderbilt announced.

  Was that true? I had to see for myself.

  After counting to three to steady my anxiety, I peered out from around the tree. Thank goodness there was no sign of him, although he might still be beside the building, waiting for me to come back to the truck. Did he know it was mine? I couldn’t wait here forever. I wanted to get out of there.

  When a dog barked and growled right behind me, I jumped and spun around. A petite gray-haired woman stood behind me, holding a white-and-cream French Bulldog by a leash. It was good that he was restrained, because based on the display of his sharp white teeth, I assumed he wanted to take a bite out of my leg.

  “What are you doing back there?” she asked suspiciously.

  I didn’t have a good answer for her question. It wasn’t as if I could tell her I was playing hide-and-seek. Or could I?

  “I’m hiding from someone,” I said.

  Her face scrunched up. “Do I need to call the police?”

  “No, no.” I gestured for her to stop.

  This movement made the dog bark even louder, which would inevitably draw attention to us. Van yapped, too, as if the dogs were arguing with each other. The purpose of hiding behind the tree was to hide from the man, but if he checked this way to see why the dog was barking, he would spot me.

  “Nice doggie,” I said.

  Of course, that made him bark more.r />
  “You should get out of here,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “The truth is, I have a stalker,” I said. “And I thought I saw him.”

  “Oh no,” Mr. Vanderbilt groaned.

  “Well, you can never be too safe. You should report this to the police,” the woman said.

  “Oh, they know,” I said. “But there’s really nothing they can do. I just have to be careful.”

  “What a tangled web we weave,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  This little lie was just to get me out of the situation. It could be life or death.

  The woman peered around. “I don’t see anyone.”

  “I guess he’s gone,” I said, attempting a smile.

  “What does he look like?” One of her bushy eyebrows wiggled upward like a caterpillar crawling on her forehead.

  “Don’t describe the man you just had an encounter with, or she’ll probably go after him. She seems quite concerned.”

  Yes, I thought I’d scared the lady. That wasn’t my intention.

  “He’s tall and wears eyeglasses. And he has a limp,” I blurted out.

  “Okay, you can stop,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  I supposed that was enough description.

  “I think I would remember seeing someone who had a limp walking around here,” she said.

  “Yes, I suppose you would. I guess he’s gone. Well, I should be leaving.”

  She stared at me for a little longer. The bulldog was getting antsy, and so was Van. She took a few steps. Luckily, she was leaving.

  “Just be safe around here,” she said.

  “I most definitely will,” I said.

  “I’m glad she’s gone,” Mr. Vanderbilt said after the woman walked away. “My nerves are a mess.”

  “Your nerves? How do you think I feel?”

  “Well, you kind of got yourself into the situation.”

  “I’m trying to solve a murder,” I said. “I suppose I’ll have to take a chance and go back to the truck.”

  “You’ll probably never see the man again,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, trying to make me feel better.

  “That’s not true,” I said. “I have to find out why Deidre’s meeting him and what the item is that he wants.”

  “Do you think it has something to do with the murder?”

  “Maybe or maybe not, but I have to be sure. What if it does? This could be the clue to solving the case.”

  “I still say you should leave the detectives to do this.”

  “Well, not that I don’t appreciate your input, Mr. Vanderbilt, but I have to disagree,” I said.

  I hurried out from behind the tree and down the sidewalk toward the truck. I was glad to see that the man wasn’t waiting by the truck for me. As I got closer, I glanced over at the building. Whew. The man wasn’t there. At least I could breathe easier. I quickened my steps and headed for the driver’s door.

  “You dodged a bullet,” Mr. Vanderbilt said. “Figuratively, of course.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” I said.

  CHAPTER 10

  Travel Trailer Tip 10:

  If you can’t get rid of guests, then enjoy

  the closeness.

  I’d just made it back to the estate when my phone rang. Mr. Vanderbilt scowled, trying to locate the source of the ringing.

  “Celeste, I’m on my way. This will be fun,” Sammie said when I answered.

  My best friend Samantha Sutton was heading toward North Carolina to help me out at the craft fair. Mostly, she just wanted to tour the mansion. I had to tell her the horrible news.

  “You’re not going to believe this,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t tell me they canceled the craft fair. I was as excited as a pig rolling in mud,” she said.

  “The craft fair is still on, as far as I know. However, I discovered a dead body.”

  It sounded even crazier when I said it out loud. A silence filled the connection.

  “Are you still there?” I asked.

  She chuckled nervously. “You’re just kidding, right? You almost got me for a minute.”

  “I wish I was joking. Unfortunately, it’s all too real.”

  “What happened?” Sammie asked.

  I explained the whole sequence of events. Peeking out the window, I checked to make sure no reporters were lurking around.

  “The craft fair is still going on as normal, though,” I said.

  “Maybe it’s best to keep a hint of normalcy,” Sammie said.

  “I suppose,” I said with hesitation in my voice.

  “Did something else happen?” she asked.

  “There’s another ghost,” I said.

  Mr. Vanderbilt was playing with Van. He ran in a circle around the tiny kitchen area while Van chased him.

  “Who is the ghost?” Sammie asked.

  “Okay . . . here goes. I believe the ghost is William Vanderbilt.”

  Another pause. Mr. Vanderbilt heard his name and waved, as if Sammie could see his reaction.

  “You mean the Vanderbilt who built the mansion?” Sammie asked in shock.

  “Yes, that’s the one,” I said.

  “How did that happen? Did you paint him?”

  “Apparently, I did. Of course, not on purpose.”

  “Where is he? Is he with you?” Sammie asked. “I have to come. Do you think I’ll see him, too?”

  “It’s possible. He’s right here in the trailer with me, playing with Van. He’s nice,” I said.

  “Well, I guess I should be on my way,” Sammie said. “I don’t want to miss him.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt had sat down on the sofa bench, and Van was trying to sit on the ghost’s lap.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about missing him. It doesn’t seem as if he’s going anywhere anytime soon. Plus, I think he stays at the mansion all the time.”

  “Did he say why he’s at the mansion, or why he came to you in a painting?”

  “Not yet. Unfortunately, his memory is spotty. I hope he’ll clue me in soon,” I said.

  “I hope so, too,” Sammie said. “I’ll see you in two shakes.”

  When I ended the call, I stood back from Mr. Vanderbilt’s portrait and studied the work. Was there a hidden image in this painting that I had missed? Lately, not only had I painted ghosts, but I also painted strange hidden images within my paintings. I had no idea I was even doing it. Only after the fact did I see them, and only while peering at the art through glass.

  This talent of mine had been stumbled upon by accident. It continued to happen, and I had yet to figure out why. Maybe I would never know the cause. Still, the hidden images had helped me solve a couple of mysteries. Was that the reason for Mr. Vanderbilt’s appearance? Would new images help solve the Biltmore mystery?

  “Why are you studying the painting for so long? Are you thinking about how handsome I am?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked with a laugh.

  I chuckled. “Well, you are dashing, of course. But I’m searching for hidden images within the painting.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “When I paint something, I’ve discovered that there are sometimes hidden things in the painting that I don’t know I painted.” I picked up the jar that I used for my brushes.

  Squinting one eye, I peered through the glass at the portrait.

  “That’s a funny way of seeing it,” he said.

  “That’s the way they appear,” I said as I scanned the canvas.

  “Do you see anything?” he asked.

  Van’s barking pierced the quiet little trailer, breaking my concentration. He wouldn’t stop barking. Something was definitely wrong. I scooped Van into my arms and hurried over to the door to peek out the tiny window. I moved the curtain back just a smidgen. No one was there.

  “What’s happening?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked.

  “I’m not sure,” I whispered. “If Van barks like that, it means something is around. As far as I can tell, no one is here. It could be another animal.”

  “Mayb
e it’s a person, and they’re hiding,” he said.

  “Way to make me feel better, Mr. Vanderbilt. That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.

  I stood there for a few seconds longer, just in case I spotted someone.

  “Maybe you’re just spooked after what happened,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “I guess that’s possible.”

  Mr. Vanderbilt gestured toward the canvas. “Go back to the painting and tell me what you see. You’ve piqued my interest.”

  No sooner had I stepped toward the painting than a knock sounded against the door. I jumped, and my heart sped up. I knew that someone had really been around the trailer. Bless my tiny guard dog. I rushed over to the door.

  “Don’t open the door without checking out the window,” Mr. Vanderbilt said.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” I said as I reached the door.

  My anxiety was high as I inched the curtain back for a peek outside. No one was standing there.

  “Who is it?” Mr. Vanderbilt asked.

  “No one is out there,” I said.

  “That’s impossible,” he said. “They just knocked. Are you sure no one is there?”

  “Maybe they took off quickly. Someone could be playing a trick on me.”

  “I can go out there and check,” he said.

  “That’s a good idea,” I said.

  In a split second, Mr. Vanderbilt disappeared. Van and I waited with bated breath. I paced for a moment and went back to the door. This time, I didn’t even see Mr. Vanderbilt.

  “Where did he go, Van?” I asked.

  “I’m right here, Celeste,” Mr. Vanderbilt said from over my shoulder.

  I spun around. “Oh, you scared me.”

  “Sorry about that,” he said.

  “What did you see?” I asked.

  “I saw a man running after a dog.”

  Another knock sounded against the door. Van barked again. I knew his bark wasn’t to alert me to a stranger. He was barking because he wanted to see Gum Shoe.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” I said, clutching my chest. “Is everyone trying to keep me on edge tonight?”

  I placed Van on the floor and checked out the window again. Caleb stood in front of the door, holding Gum Shoe’s leash. The German Shepherd danced in anticipation. His thick coat gleamed in the bright sunshine.