Intrigue Books 1-6

by Delores Fossen, Rachel Lee, Carol Ericson, Tyler Anne Snell, Rita Herron

  He’d figured, but it never hurt to ask, especially when Dena’s sources had proved fruitful in the past.

  He thanked her and disconnected, then decided to wander over to the sheriff’s before heading out to the Castelle place. He figured Candy might be hating him by now.

  Being a cop often meant getting deep into the weeds of the world of records. Prior arrests, yeah, but general information on suspects and witnesses. Getting the word from the streets, which often came through other cops. Research until his eyes nearly fell out of his head. It sure wasn’t a matter of walking around wearing a gun and badge like a big man.

  Nope. It would have been even tougher if he hadn’t had a team.

  Candy had no team.

  Get her a coffee, maybe suggest a quick lunch. Ask her if she could take a break and join him out at the Castelle house. She might jump at the opportunity by now.

  A glance at his watch told him it was nearly noon. Yeah, she could use a break. Besides, he had an ulterior motive. He wanted to see her again.

  The bug had bit him.

  He found Candy at the back of the office, focused intently on a computer screen. She looked up when he said her name and her eyes refocused.

  She spoke. “I suppose I don’t have to tell you how much this sucks.”

  “Nope. Hence my invitation to lunch and maybe a trip to see the Castelles.” He put a coffee beside her. “Or you can sit here torturing yourself for the next few hours. I’ll come back and help you pick your eyes up off the floor.”

  That pulled a laugh from her. “Lunch it is.” She took the cup and sipped the latte. “Fuel. Or maybe ambrosia.”

  “Well, then, let’s go.”

  She rose, pulling on her jacket and picking up her cup. “Take me away.”

  His heart skipped, which it shouldn’t have. “Glad to oblige.”

  Maude’s didn’t seem very busy for the time of day. They found a booth without any problem, and as they sat, Steve wondered if the murders had caused the emptiness. Were people so nervous they didn’t want to come out to lunch? Or so nervous they wanted to keep an eye on their kids? Were kids even going to school?

  “Have people gone into hiding since the murders?” he asked her.

  “All I know is they’re nervous as hell. I’m sure there have been cases of multiple murders here, if for no other reason than that sickos appear everywhere, but I’m not that far into the loop yet.”

  “If I were a parent, I’d be worried,” he admitted.

  Then Mavis appeared wanting their orders. Both of them were prompt. This didn’t seem like a place you could dither for a while. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mavis decided for them.

  He went for clogging his arteries again, blaming it on the travel. Or excusing it. A succulent cheeseburger with fries and a side of salad. Candy had apparently given up fighting her appetite, too. No salad, which he was used to women ordering. No grilled chicken. Nope. Steak, corn bread and broccoli.

  “Corn bread?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Every so often. Love the stuff.”

  “It’s pretty good,” he agreed. “I never think of it.”

  Her answer was dry. “It’s rarely on a menu. Besides, I don’t like it dry, so I never make it at home.”

  She dug in happily, as did he. Then she asked, “Anything more that’s interesting?”

  “My researcher is going to gently sound out her street informants, but she doesn’t want to draw attention to any of them.”

  “I have to admit I’m disappointed in Castelle,” Candy admitted. “You’d never guess.”

  “And maybe that drug stuff is really all in the past. People do recover. But even so, I have to wonder what effect that might have had on their marriage.”

  “I can’t imagine it was good. Maybe they’re putting it back together. But the kid. Why would anyone want to torture that child?”

  “To send a message. Let him know they’ve found him. Maybe he thinks this will draw him and Annabelle closer. I can think of a whole lot of motives. Anyway, my producer is hounding me. Work with the damn psychic.”

  He saw her lips twitch. “Have fun.”

  “Oh, yeah. Loads of it.”

  “You don’t like psychics?”

  Steve shrugged, certain he’d mentioned this before. Or maybe only inside his own head. “I’ve met a couple that I thought might be genuine. Can’t really prove it, of course. Then there are those who walk around giving vague impressions that anyone could provide in the circumstances. Or those who just put on a show to make it look like they’re doing something. I’m wondering which kind Ben Wittes is.”

  She cut another piece of steak. “But you allow the possibility?”

  “I’ve learned not to dismiss anything without proof. I suppose it’s possible that some are genuine.”

  Like ghosts. He just needed some really good proof. Hard proof. The kind he could take to court. How likely was that in this field?

  After lunch, Candy ran over to the sheriff’s office to check on the progress of her searches. When she came back, they both climbed into her official vehicle.

  For once he was agreeable to that when visiting a client. It showed his involvement with the police in case something truly unsavory was going on.

  “This search is going to take forever,” she told him as she wheeled onto Main Street and drove toward the Castelle home. “I’m astonished how many Ivy Haskells there are. She did turn up in the 1960 census, though. Last time.”

  He gave a low whistle.

  Candy shrugged. “At some point the Census Bureau stopped making names public as far as I can tell. It doesn’t really mean much, except it gives me a search bracket. Name changes, divorces, police records, the whole deal.”

  “There must be a lot out there.”

  “As I’m discovering. What about you? Anything?”

  “More questions at this point. Somebody’s going to be facing legal trouble if they’re harassing that little girl. Enough said.”

  Candy spoke slowly. “That drug conviction must have nearly destroyed their marriage.”

  “I thought of that. A lot here under that Donna Reed facade. Well, I’ll find it out.”

  He always did. People’s secrets had been his meat and potatoes as a detective, and that much hadn’t changed.

  “But why would they want to be on TV, considering the possibilities?”

  “Cover,” he said flatly. “They get national exposure, and if anything happens to them, it’s not going to escape notice. Protection.”

  She drew a sharp breath. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Most people wouldn’t. Under this friendly exterior lies a mind that is used to thinking the unthinkable. The not immediately obvious.”

  “I have a lot to learn.”

  “You’re on the way,” he said as they turned into the Castelles’ driveway.

  “This is going to be a learning experience.”

  “I hope not.”

  * * *

  THE CASTELLES GREETED them warmly. Viv was out back with Buddy, and Steve and Candy were invited inside.

  “Let me run around and check my equipment,” Steve said. “Then I’ll join you in that coffee.”

  “Help yourself,” Todd answered.

  Steve paused. “Anything last night?”

  “Not that we were aware of. We were all hunkered down in our bedroom. As usual. Plus, we didn’t want to bother your equipment, like you said.”

  Steve smiled. “Good job. If I hear footsteps on a tape, I want to know if it was you.”

  Annabelle laughed. “You may hear the thump-thump-thump of Buddy running around, though.”

  “I think that would be pretty distinctive.” He disappeared in the general direction of the attic stairs.

  Candy sat with them at their kitche
n table. Like a lot of people, they seemed to prefer it to the more formal living room. It was hard now not to look at them with suspicion, so she turned the conversation in a safer direction.

  “You ever consider finishing the attic?” she asked. “From the outside it looks huge.”

  “It is big,” Annabelle answered.

  “Nice,” Todd agreed. “We could put a couple of spacious rooms up there. We’ve talked about a bigger office. Maybe an extra bedroom. And a bath, for those that don’t want to run up and down stairs repeatedly.”

  Annabelle made a face at him. “I wouldn’t be that someone, would I? Anyway, it would be expensive. We certainly couldn’t do the wiring or the plumbing ourselves. But did you get up there, Candy?”

  She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

  “When you do, take a look at the lath. It covers all the walls up to the peak of the roof, and someone stained it at one time. It’s a work of art unto itself.”

  Todd laughed. “It’s beautiful all right. Almost a shame to hide any of it.”

  “Excuses,” Annabelle retorted. “Space. We came out here for space.”

  Candy couldn’t help wondering if that had been the real reason.

  “Anyway,” Annabelle said, “our apartment in the city? Hardly any room. One bedroom, barely big enough for a bed. We had to turn the living room into our office and screen off an area for Vivian to sleep in. Then we had this kitchen that was almost too small to move around in.”

  “I’ve seen places like that,” Candy said. Mostly in foreign countries where entire families lived in one-room shacks and cooked outside under lean-tos. Many of them probably would have thought the Castelles’ apartment was a palace, but she could understand why they didn’t.

  Steve passed by on his way to the basement.

  Annabelle spoke. “I don’t know whether I hope he finds something.”

  “It could be worse,” Todd answered.

  “Since I heard those sounds, nothing would be worse. Trust me.”

  Todd slipped an arm around her and squeezed her from the side.

  “It’s true,” she said. “I’d rather have a ghost than wonder if Viv and I are losing our minds.”

  “You’re not,” Todd said, giving her another squeeze. “I’m sure of that.”

  How could he be sure? Candy wondered. Because he knew something? Damn, she hated the suspicions Steve had awakened in her.

  But it remained Todd couldn’t know, even if it was highly unlikely that both wife and daughter were developing a mental illness at the same time. Or unless he suspected a cause for this that had nothing to do with mental health or ghosts.

  Jeez, was this how Steve had to think?

  She didn’t envy his world at all. She’d lived with suspicion for too long in combat areas. Suspicions about every local she talked to. Sometimes suspicions about members of the local armies. That was some of the baggage she wanted to leave behind. To learn to be trusting again.

  Steve returned about twenty minutes later. Conversation had revolved around exactly what Todd and Annabelle did for their living. Both of them appeared to become excited when they talked about it. Much of it was over Candy’s head. 3-D graphics? Like in the movies? She didn’t ask.

  They also talked briefly about the conventions they had to attend to promote themselves and their work, but mostly to meet fans. The crowds. Candy was sure she would have shrunk in crowds that size.

  Then Steve reappeared and joined them at the table, accepting a mug of coffee. “Nothing,” he told two inquisitive faces. “But you were right about Buddy. He makes quite a ruckus when he runs.”

  “He’s not at all light-footed,” Annabelle said drily. “We always know where he is. So nothing?”

  “Not yet. Two things. If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend a night in Vivian’s room. Listening. Maybe I’ll hear something or get a brainstorm. Right now I could use one. The other thing is a psychic. My producer found one, and she’s hot to try him out.”

  Annabelle leaned forward. “I’ll try anything if it might help. I just need someone to find out if this is real and, if not, what might explain it. Bring a psychic. Bring the Army. Bring another building inspector.” Her eyes teared up. “Anything except make my daughter live with this fear.”

  “Honey,” Todd said. “We’ll move.”

  “Not until we’ve tried everything,” she said fiercely through her tears. “This is our dream. Every dime we have is right here. I want to fight for it.”

  Candy gave her props for that. A strong woman, determined to stand and fight. Fleeing sure as hell would have been easier.

  Todd looked at Steve. “Nothing? Absolutely nothing?”

  “Not yet,” Steve answered. “One night doesn’t mean a damned thing, though.”

  “Then you’ll stay tonight?”

  “I said I would. I generally like to do at least several nights by myself. When my crew gets here, I’ll repeat it all, but you may want to take our invitation to find a decent motel so you don’t have to live with the uproar. If you think spirits are noisy, try a film crew.”

  That at least made Todd grin. “I can almost imagine.”

  “Anyway,” Steve continued. “Have you done any remodeling since you moved in?”

  Annabelle started to shake her head, then stopped. “What do you mean by remodeling? Paint? Wallpaper? Or something bigger?”

  “Moving walls? Making holes when you checked the electrical? Things like that. I keep hearing that renovations can disturb the spirits.”

  “Oh.”

  The couple exchanged looks.

  “Well,” Todd said. “I guess we have. I added some track lights in our office. And we had an electrician install more outlets that could handle the needs of our equipment.”

  Steve nodded. “Anything else?”

  “We had some rewiring done, but that was in the barn. Place is a firetrap waiting for a spark. Useless until we can do more about it, but we still need some light in there. A fluorescent lantern wasn’t cutting it.”

  “Great for camping, though,” Steve joked. “Well, that sounds like enough to answer audience questions. Have to touch all bases, you know.”

  Annabelle lifted her head a bit. “You don’t believe that renovations could cause this?”

  Steve shrugged. “I’m in the business of not believing theories. I’m not sure when last someone actually talked to a ghost about what’s bothering them.”

  Todd snorted. Even Annabelle managed a weak smile.

  “That’s the point, isn’t it?” Steve asked, leaning forward. “If you want to confirm a preconceived idea about what’s happening in this house, I was the wrong guy to choose.”

  Todd nodded. “That’s why we came to you.”

  “I hope so. The unvarnished truth, if I can find it. That’s my way.”

  Barely two minutes passed before they heard a knock at the front door. At the same time, Vivian burst in through the back door. The air around her and Buddy carried the outside cold.

  “I’ll get the door,” Todd said, as Annabelle leaned forward to hug her daughter and start unzipping her outerwear.

  “Chocolate, Mommy.”

  “You betcha!”

  A happy little family, Candy thought. Hard to believe there was something dark behind them.

  Then Todd walked in with a scruffy Ben Wittes, who looked as if he could use a shave.

  “Ben Wittes,” Todd said. “I believe he’s expected.”

  Steve rose and shook the man’s hand. As dirty as it looked, Candy didn’t envy him.

  “Good to see you again,” Ben said.

  Annabelle turned from the stove, where she was making Viv’s hot chocolate, and murmured a greeting. She wasn’t happy about this, although she claimed she was willing to try anything to help Vivian.

  And Vi
v herself stared at the man, her eyes huge.

  Candy couldn’t blame her. Ben looked like something that had crawled from under a rock. When he smiled, the expression wasn’t comforting.

  Vivian slid off her chair and edged toward her mother.

  “What do you want me to do?” Wittes asked Steve.

  “Walk through the house with me,” Steve said. “Give me your impressions.”

  Ben nodded. “I’m ready to start. The spirits have been ramping up since I began driving this way. Guess they have a lot to say.”

  Candy had trouble keeping a straight face. She waited to hear anything that might stand out from casual conversation. Something with meat on it.

  “Do you mind?” Steve asked the Castelles.

  “Go for it,” Todd said. “No stone unturned.”

  Except, Candy thought, the one Ben Wittes had crawled out from under.

  * * *

  STEVE TURNED ON one of his recorders and began the walk-through. He wanted one thing, just one thing, that would justify making this man part of his show. If he couldn’t get anything but a jumble of impressions anyone could have provided, he’d send the man packing and go to the mat with his producer, Etta Miller. He didn’t usually have to fight her, but when he did, he stood his ground until she came around, or they could reach a satisfactory compromise.

  But it was fair to give the man a shot at this, especially to placate Etta.

  He just hoped someone would clean this guy up before filming. He looked downright disreputable.

  He led Ben to the very back of the house, to the Castelles’ bedroom. No activity had been reported in there, and it was a good test of Wittes.

  “Go ahead,” he told the guy, then waited with his recorder on. If the man provided anything useful, he wanted it on tape.

  Ben closed his eyes and swayed a bit. Not terribly theatrical, which was good.

  “The man is still here,” he murmured slowly. “He hangs around all the time, doesn’t want to leave.”

  Steve wanted to question him but waited. That was a pretty general statement, hardly worth paying attention to. Yet.

  “He doesn’t want to leave,” Ben continued. “There are others here. A woman. She’s angry.”