She dug around in her bag. “In fact, I have something for you.” She pulled out the Winslow letters and handed him the extra copies. “These are copies of letters I got from the museum. They were written by John Winslow—a confession that he and some others killed both Jacob Reynolds and his wife. They wanted the property because of gold.”
Phil Bowers took the letters from her. He fanned through them but didn’t read them.
“I have reason to believe,” she continued, “that Ian Reynolds saw these same letters, possibly several weeks ago. Maybe he felt the property should be his. Maybe he thought he could bully you and your family into selling it to him. And maybe it wasn’t about building condominiums. It could be that he thought there might still be gold out there.”
“There’s been no gold around here for years.”
Emma shrugged and held her hand out for her phone. “Now, if you’ll give me back my phone, I’ll be moving along. It’s hot out here, and I have a long drive ahead of me.”
“But you can’t go, Emma. We still need to stop him.”
At the sound, Emma turned around and faced Granny, who’d disappeared during the initial face-off with Bowers.
“Stop who, Granny?” In her frustration, she forgot about Phil. “Garrett Bell is dead.”
From behind her, Emma heard a throat clear. Sweat beaded on her forehead and dampened her underarms. She closed her eyes and wished she could transport herself somewhere, anywhere. She tapped her sneakers together, hoping beyond hope that they could whisk her back to Pasadena.
“Who’s Garrett Bell, Fancy Pants?”
Emma slowly turned around, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head as she moved. With a set jaw, she locked eyes with Phil Bowers. They stared at each other in an emotional standoff for nearly a minute.
“Who’s Garrett Bell?” he asked again, his eyes hard as steel. “Or should I go get one of the detectives? They sent three up from San Diego, you know. I’m sure one of them would have time to hear what you have to say. Just don’t forget to cop the insanity plea.”
“Keep the phone,” she snapped. “I’ll get another.” She started marching out of the parking lot. Bowers was on her heels.
“Who’s Garrett Bell, Fancy Pants?”
At the sidewalk, Emma stopped and faced Phil. “Stop calling me that!”
“Then tell me who this Garrett guy is. Is he another partner in this land scheme? Or maybe he’s another body—one you have stashed somewhere else.”
“Do you really think I killed Ian Reynolds?” The question came out in a half snarl.
“I didn’t, but now I’m not so sure.”
At the same time, they both noticed that a few people had stopped to stare at them. Bowers took her arm once again and steered Emma back a few steps into the shade behind city hall.
“Do you have an alibi for last night?” He let go of her arm.
“As I told Detective Hallam, I went directly from the Rong Branch to the hotel and straight to bed.”
“Anyone see you?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Emma stood defiantly in front of him. “Someone did see me. Someone was in my room all night.”
When she didn’t continue, Phil nudged her along. “And that person was …?”
“Is it any of your business?”
“I’m making it my business.”
There, on the spot, Emma decided to slap him with the truth. “Albert Robinson. That’s who saw me.”
“Albert Robinson.” Phil said the name out loud, rolling it over and around his tongue while he searched his memory. Once the name clicked, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Nice act, Mrs. Whitecastle. Guess being married to that TV freak rubbed off on you.”
“Come on, Emma,” said Granny, her whispery voice filled with determination. “You can’t go now.”
Emma held up a hand but looked at Phil while she spoke. “Not now, Granny. One pest at a time is all I can handle.” With a huff and a puff, Granny disappeared.
“You’re psychotic.” Phil gave a little laugh. “Cute but psychotic.”
Psychotic. The word jarred her like a slammed door. Emma had used that same word when she’d first found out about her mother and Granny Apples. Thinking about it now, she was ashamed she hadn’t been more open minded, especially concerning Elizabeth.
“This isn’t an act, Phil.”
She spoke in an even tone, forcing herself to remain calm. Let him go to the police with this—with everything. She didn’t kill Garrett Bell, and she wasn’t the only one in the world who talked to ghosts.
“Last night, I was scared, afraid Ian would find me at the hotel. You heard him; he said he was staying there. When I got to my room, I bolted the door and barricaded it. At some point, the ghost of Albert Robinson appeared.”
“And I suppose he watched over you like some guardian angel.”
“In a way, yes. I told him I was scared. He told me to go to sleep and not to worry. Then he sat in the chair I used to block the door. He was still there when I went to sleep.”
Phil stared at her a long time, weighing her words for both fact and fiction. “So, who’s this Garrett guy?”
Emma wasn’t sure if she should tell Phil outright about Garrett. She decided to tread soft at first and see where it led. “Another ghost. He came to me this morning after I left the museum. That’s how I knew Ian had been killed.”
“So this ghost, this dead Garrett guy, he told you? He simply popped in for a visit and gave you a news flash about the murder?”
So much for the soft touch.
“Garrett Bell is Ian Reynolds. That’s his real name. He’s a clairvoyant with sketchy ethics—a real piece of work. You were right to suspect him.”
Phil stared at her like she’d dropped from an alien spaceship. “But if you’d never met him before, how do you know all this?”
“A friend—another clairvoyant—told me. I realized last night at the Rong Branch that Ian couldn’t be the real Ian Reynolds, so while you two baboons slugged it out, I snapped a photo with my phone and sent it to him. Seems my friend knew Garrett Bell personally.”
She started walking away, then turned. “And since I didn’t share that with the authorities, feel free to do so yourself. I’m going home.”
Emma hadn’t gone but a step or two when she heard the familiar ring of her cell phone. She turned just in time to see Phil opening it.
“Ghosts‘R’Us,” he answered, keeping his eyes on Emma.
She stomped back to where Phil was standing. “Give me that.”
“No, she’s right here. Who’s this?” After listening, he said to Emma, “It’s some guy named Milo. You in?” He gave her a crooked grin.
Shooting daggers at him, she held out her hand for the phone. Phil handed it to her.
“Milo?” She kept Phil in her sight as she talked. “That was Phil Bowers, the guy who was with me and Ian Reynolds last night before Ian—I mean Garrett—was killed. You know, the bald guy in the photos.” She grinned at Phil. He frowned. “Tell me, Milo, is Bowers here the murderer?”
As she listened, Phil made a grab for the phone. She hopped back out of his reach.
“Hmm, too bad. I wouldn’t mind seeing him behind bars.”
“What the hell?” Phil came closer but made no move for the phone.
“You’re what?” Emma stuffed an index finger into her free ear to hear better. She couldn’t believe what Milo was saying. “No, you don’t need to be doing that, neither of you. I’m coming home today. Leaving right this minute, in fact.”
“Stay where you are, Emma,” Milo told her. “In fact, can you put me on speaker? I want that Bowers guy to hear this.”
“Why?”
“He’s a good guy, Emma. At least I think he is. You’re in danger. So
meone needs to help you.”
“He doesn’t believe me, Milo—about Granny, about anything. And I don’t need any help. I’m coming home.”
“No! Don’t you dare go near your car.”
“Why?”
“Do as he says, Emma!” It was Tracy yelling in the background.
Tracy and Milo were on their way to Julian. Since he didn’t drive, Milo had called Tracy, getting her number from his client records. It didn’t take much convincing on his part to put Tracy on the road to Julian.
Emma looked at Phil. “He wants to talk to us both.” After moving close to Phil, Emma pushed the speaker feature on the phone, but with the noise from the street, they couldn’t hear very well.
“Hang on,” she told Milo, “we need to get someplace quiet.”
After looking around, Emma headed for one of the bathrooms with Phil in tow. The one she’d vacated was occupied. She went to the next.
“You have a quarter?” she asked Phil. “Hopefully, we’ll still get a signal in here.”
He dug one out and fed the lock. Emma entered and motioned for him to follow her. After a slight hesitation, he did. Once inside, Emma shut the door. The tiny room was cramped with the two of them and smelled of disinfectant. The small space grew cold when the ghost of Granny Apples appeared in the corner.
Emma leaned against the sink and held the phone out between them. “Can you hear us, Milo?”
“Yes.”
“Phil Bowers is here with me. What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly sure, Emma, but it’s enough to worry me. That’s why Tracy and I are heading to Julian.”
“Who is this guy?” asked Phil.
“A friend of mine. The one who told me about Garrett.” Phil shuffled his feet. Taking off his hat, he hung it on the coat hook on the back of the door and leaned in close.
“What about my car, Milo?”
“I don’t know, Emma. It’s just that I had another vision. I saw a bad car accident. A very bad one.”
“A vision?” Phil stepped back. Without realizing it, he’d gone right through Granny, who’d also been listening. “More crackpot crap, Emma?”
He started for the door but Emma reached up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Before he could react, she yanked his head back down toward the phone.
“If Milo says you’re to stay,” she hissed, her mouth near his face, “you’re staying.”
“Please, Mr. Bowers,” they heard Milo say from the phone. “Just hear me out. Emma’s in great danger.”
Phil Bowers looked deep into Emma’s eyes, weighing common sense against the passion in Milo’s voice. He didn’t break away from her grasp.
“What about the accident?” he asked Milo.
“It was a white Lexus. Isn’t that your car, Emma?”
“Yes, I drive a white Lexus.”
“I saw a white Lexus weaving on a narrow mountain road, then going over a cliff.” Milo paused. “You were in the car, Emma.”
She let go of Phil’s shirt as chills shot their way up and down her bare arms. Phil noticed her shaking and put an arm around her, drawing her into his warmth. With his other hand, he cupped the hand holding the phone to steady it.
“I promise you, Milo,” Phil said into the phone, but with his eyes on Emma, “that we’ll get the car checked out. I won’t let Emma drive it until we do.”
“Thank God,” they heard Tracy call out. “We’ll be there in about two hours or so, depending on traffic.”
Emma leaned closer toward the phone. “Do you know yet who killed Garrett Bell?”
“I’m afraid not, Emma.” It was Milo again. “Has he returned to you?”
“Yes, once more, but he didn’t say anything. Granny’s convinced that the property is still in danger.”
“The real worry is you, Emma. Garrett’s killer is still out there. Granny is sensing danger, but she might not have a good handle on what kind. When you get a chance, ask her direct questions about Garrett. See what she knows.”
“Will do.” She looked around the small room, but Granny had evaporated again. “Call me when you get closer, and I’ll give you directions,” Emma told them. “I’m not sure where I’ll be.”
Phil gave them his cell number as a backup.
They were about to end the call when Emma called out, “Wait! What about Archie?”
“He’s with us. We’re bringing him along,” said Milo.
“I didn’t have the heart to put him back into the kennel,” yelled Tracy over the din of traffic.
“Speak, Archie,” Tracy commanded. “Say hi to Emma. Come on boy, speak.”
Archie woofed obligingly.
After ending the call, Phil turned his face toward Emma, keeping his arm around her. “Is the dog real or a ghost?”
“Did you hear him bark?”
“Yes.”
“Then he’s real.”
With Phil bent slightly, their faces were just inches apart. Emma could feel his breath on her cheek and the strength of his arm around her. She tilted her head up a bit, just in time to catch his mouth coming down on hers.
Two long kisses later, Emma pushed away from Phil Bowers. She ran a hand through her hair and felt her cheeks grow warm. Phil cleared his throat and looked down at the floor.
Emma was the first to speak. “You don’t happen to know a motel around here that allows pets, do you?”
Happy with a neutral topic, Phil thought about her question. “Yes, there’s one just outside of town that I believe takes animals. It’s not very nice, though. I mean, it’s okay, just not what…”
“What I’d be used to?” Her look was challenging, almost a dare.
Taking out his cell phone, Phil made a call. “Hey, Aunt Susan. It’s me. Does your friend still rent out that cottage in town? You know, the one with the fenced-in yard.” A pause. “I see. Will she rent to people with pets? Just a couple of days. Three adults, one dog.” Another pause. “Let me ask.”
He turned to Emma. “What kind and how big?”
“Archie’s a Scottie, about twenty pounds. Very well trained. The people are average in both kind and size.”
“And not well trained, I suppose?”
She responded with a guilty shrug.
Phil repeated Archie’s stats into the phone and waited. “It’s for Emma Whitecastle.” He glanced at Emma. “You remember her, don’t you, from yesterday?” Pause. “Yep, she’s the one.” His face reddened. “You might say we’ve buried the hatchet.”
He closed his phone. “She’s going to see if her friend’s cottage is available. Cute place, well maintained, two bedrooms—and it’s right here in town.”
“Good enough for Fancy Pants?”
He shook a finger at her. “That came out of your mouth this time, not mine.”
Phil grabbed his hat and opened the door. “I imagine you’re the sort who gets snarly when she doesn’t eat. Low blood sugar, right?”
“I don’t have low blood sugar.”
“No? Well, I do. But I’ll bet it’s been hours since you’ve eaten.”
“Yes, it has, and I’m starving. But what about my car?”
“We’ll take care of both.” He stopped when they reached the street. Across from them was the Rong Branch. “Let’s not go to the Rong Branch, though.”
He led her up to the corner and across Main to the Miner’s Diner. “You like milk shakes and malts?”
“Sure, who doesn’t?”
“They make the best here.”
The Miner’s Diner was reached by entering the Old Julian Drug Store. Phil waved to a guy behind the register. It was the same man who’d sold her bandages and ointment that morning.
In the next room was the diner, with its old-fashioned
marble soda fountain. Lined up at it were customers of various sizes and ages. There were also several sets of tables and chairs scattered about. They spotted an empty table near the window and settled in. Emma ordered a tuna and avocado sandwich with fruit on the side. Phil ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries. At his urging, she also ordered a strawberry milkshake. He ordered iced tea.
While they waited for their food, Phil made a call about her car.
“A friend of mine is going to take your car to his garage and go over it with a fine-tooth comb. If there’s a problem, he’ll find it. We’ll meet him at the hotel after we eat.”
A discomfort settled in on Emma like indigestion. “Phil,” she began. “I really appreciate what you’re doing for me. You know, with the cottage and the car and all, but I don’t want any misunderstandings between us.”
He knitted his brows. “You mean about what happened back there?”
“Yes. Let’s agree right now that what happened in the bathroom stays in the bathroom.”
A corner of Phil’s mouth curled upward. “Wasn’t it up to your usual standards, Fancy Pants?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She huffed in frustration. “What happened was an accident. I was frightened by what Milo said, and you were comforting me. That’s it.”
“I see. An accident that happened twice, in quick succession.”
“First you think I’m here to steal your land.” Emma’s voice rose in frustration before she toned it down to a whisper. “Then you accuse me of lying and even call me psychotic.”
“I believe I called you a liar before I accused you of being a thief.”
“Whatever. Now you think one kiss, and I’m going to forget all that and fall into your arms? Please.”
Phil held up two fingers. “Two kisses. The first might have been a fluke, but you came back for seconds.” He gave her a wide grin. “Did you think it was a two-for-one sale at Saks?”
“You’re impossible.”
Sue Ann Jaffarian - [Granny Apples 01] Page 17