Emma thought about the manner in which she was questioned by the detectives. “When I questioned Billy, I didn’t have these letters. I also don’t think I asked all the right questions in the right way. Plus we were interrupted by Garrett lurking about.”
“But what about Ian?” Phil asked. “I mean, that Garrett Bell guy? We know why the old folks were killed, but what about him?”
She walked over to Phil and put a hand on his arm. “Do you happen to know where in the cemetery Garrett’s body was found? Did anyone tell you that either in gossip or when you were questioned?”
Phil Bowers patted her hand as he shook his head. “Sorry, can’t recall.”
“Give me a minute,” Milo said. “I might remember.”
While they all watched, Milo went into the great room and settled into a large overstuffed chair near the fireplace. He leaned back and closed his eyes.
“What’s he doing?” Susan asked.
“He had a vision of Garrett’s dead body,” Emma explained. “Maybe he’s trying to recall where it was.”
“Jeeeeeeeeesus,” Phil said in disbelief. He threw up his hands and paced a few times. Emma shushed him and concentrated on Milo.
“The grass on the ground around the body is dry and brown,” Milo said, lost in concentration.
“That’s the whole damn cemetery this time of year,” crabbed Phil. “Hell, the whole area.”
“Shh!” Emma told him again.
“He’s been shot in the chest. Close range.” Milo paused. “Very close range, almost like the gun was held next to him when it was fired.” He lost himself again in the depths of his mind. “He was struggling with his assailant. The gun went off.” Without warning, Milo popped open his eyes and looked at them. “Is there a bench up at the cemetery?”
“There are a few scattered around,” Emma answered.
“He was killed by one of the benches—the topmost one. The one that looks down at the town.”
Emma ran her hands through her hair as she took her turn pacing and thinking. “That’s Billy’s bench. I’m sure of it.”
“You are not going to the cemetery!” Phil yelled, following Emma down the hallway. Susan, Milo, and Tracy were hot on their heels. Behind them, the dogs, still on the deck, were barking.
“But I have to. Billy’s the answer, don’t you understand? I just have to ask him the right questions in the right way.”
Emma yanked the front door open and spilled out into the large driveway. Then she froze. Her car wasn’t there. The dogs, riled up by the people, had left the deck and run around the house to join everyone in the driveway. Sweetie Pie and Baby reached them first. Archie and Killer brought up the rear, working their short legs into stumps to keep up.
“May I remind you, Fancy Pants, that your car went into a tree today courtesy of a killer?”
Phil took her by the arm. She shook it off. “Let me go. I have to get to Billy Winslow.”
“Not tonight, Emma.”
“Listen to him, Emma,” Tracy added. “It’s dark out. Besides, won’t the sheriff have it cordoned off like on TV?” Susan and Milo murmured in agreement.
“Exactly,” said Phil. “It’s not only dangerous, but you can’t trespass on a crime scene.”
Emma held her uninjured hand out toward Tracy. “Give me your keys. I’ll take your car.”
“Granny,” Phil called out, surprising everyone. “Granny Apples.” He stood in the drive and turned this way and that through the barking dogs. “I know you’re out there and you can hear me, even if I can’t hear you.”
Emma stared at him, her mouth resembling a wide-mouth jar. “What are you doing?”
“If I can’t talk sense into you, maybe she can.” He cupped his mouth with his hands and called out, “Yoo-hoo, Granny, come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“Give me your keys, Tracy,” Emma demanded again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m coming with you,” Tracy told her. “I’m not letting you go alone.”
“Neither of you are going anywhere,” Phil ordered. “Damn it, Granny, where in the hell are you?”
“He’s right, Emma.”
Emma whipped her head around to see Granny standing just behind her. Milo saw her, too. The others let their eyes follow Emma and Milo’s cue.
The ghost shot a scowl at Phil. “As much as I dislike being bellowed at, the man’s right.”
While Milo translated for the others, Emma continued talking to Granny. “Then ask Garrett what Billy told him the night he was killed. Or better yet, tell him to come here and tell me himself.”
Phil came up to Emma and turned her around to face him. “What are you talking about?”
“I think Billy told Garrett something that got him killed. What’s more, I think that’s why Garrett was snooping around the cemetery watching me with the ghosts. He was trying to learn what Billy told me, or what he thought Billy had told me.” She took a deep breath and pointed in the direction of the Reynolds property. “There’s something about that land that Garrett and his friends know about. That’s why they wanted it. And I think the reason someone tried to kill me is they think Billy already told me whatever it is that’s so important. They want to make sure I don’t tell anyone else.” She poked her finger into Phil’s chest. “Specifically you, the present owner.”
Emma ran both her hands through her hair and held her aching skull. “It sounds so preposterous, yet so clear.”
Phil put an arm around her. “Take a deep breath, Emma. Take your time, and collect your thoughts. You’re exhausted.”
She leaned into him for a moment.
“Billy has to be the key. Otherwise, why would a clairvoyant be involved? Based on what Milo told me about Garrett Bell, maybe he learned something in a session with a client. Maybe that client was the real Ian Reynolds.”
“But Ian’s dead,” noted Milo.
“Yes, and isn’t it odd that he died about the time he received copies of those letters? Letters that talk about gold and confessions of murder. Letters that specifically say Billy did something he shouldn’t have.”
Phil wasn’t convinced. “The detectives told me Ian Reynolds died of natural causes.”
“Me too, but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t have been rigged to look like natural causes. Especially if Ian was elderly.”
Emma left the comfort of Phil’s arm and paced. “Phil, when did you start hearing from Ian Reynolds about the property?”
Phil rolled his eyes upward as he calculated the time. “About three to four weeks ago.”
“Well, here’s another thought. Maybe whoever killed Garrett was his client. Someone who knew the real Ian Reynolds and came to Garrett after Ian’s death, letters in hand, to try and contact Billy Winslow or any of the ghosts of the people involved.” She paced some more. “I’ll bet if we check the hotels around here, we’ll find that Garrett, either as himself or Ian, has been here quite often in the past few weeks.”
“I know he has,” said Phil. “He was out here quite a bit until I finally ran him off.” He turned to his aunt. “Remember the well?”
“Yes, he broke into it. We had to get a whole new padlock.”
“The well?” asked Emma. “Do you know why?”
“Not a clue. Before I fixed the lock, I checked it out. It’s dry. Nothing down there but dirt and debris.”
“I think Emma may be on to something,” Milo said. “Garrett was quite unethical. He’d use his talents without any thought of right and wrong.”
Pieces of information, like shards of stained glass, floated before Emma’s eyes, waiting for her to put them together into one tidy picture. She held her head in her hands again to ward off the dull, growing pain.
Emma added, “My guess is they know something about that pro
perty that we don’t, but they didn’t have all the information. That’s where Billy comes in. And Garrett. If Billy is the key, then Garrett, or someone like him, is the only one who can turn it.”
She looked at Milo. “What about you, Milo? Did anyone ever contact you about trying to reach Billy Winslow or anyone connected with that property?”
“Never. First I heard about it was from you and Granny.”
“See,” Emma said to everyone, “we have to ask Billy.”
Susan stepped forward. “Emma, dear, why don’t you get a good night’s sleep tonight and go to the police tomorrow?”
“The police aren’t going to listen to this.” Phil was kneeling, calming the animals. “They’ll consider it nonsense.”
“And what about you, Phil?” Emma glued her eyes to his face. “Do you still think it’s nonsense?”
Even though he couldn’t see it in the dark, he looked off in the direction of the Reynolds homestead. “If you’d asked me that this morning, I would have said yes.” He looked up at Emma’s waiting face. “Now, I’m not so sure.” He got up and dusted off his jeans. He looked into Emma’s blue eyes. “But since this morning, my whole world’s been turned on its ear. So I guess anything’s possible.”
“Then let me go talk to Billy.”
“In the morning. Bright and early, like the crack of dawn. I know you can see them during the day. I’ve seen you do it.”
“Better yet,” added Tracy, “why can’t Billy come here? Granny and Garrett travel about, why not him?”
Milo didn’t look so sure. “Sometimes ghosts don’t leave their favorite spot. It’s weird. Some go everywhere, like Granny here.” He pointed in the ghost’s direction. “Others just stay in one earthly place. It depends on Billy’s frame of mind.”
Granny shook her head. “Billy’s like a mule. He won’t budge. When he was a boy, he’d sit atop that hill among those graves for hours when he didn’t have chores or school. ’Course, weren’t no fancy benches then, nor that road. My boy Winston said Billy would just look at the town and daydream.” Once again, Milo played the interpreter.
“See, Phil—I have to go to Billy to find out anything.”
Phil walked a few steps away. A moment later, he kicked the dirt in anger. “Damn!”
He returned to where Emma and the rest of them stood. “In the morning, Emma. Can’t it wait until morning? I can protect you better in the sunlight.”
Granny came up to Emma. “Listen to this man, Emma. Billy’s not going nowhere.”
With great reluctance, Emma gave in. “I suppose you’re all right about this.” She looked at Milo. “You have anything to add?”
“I vote we go in the morning. And I think I should go with you, just in case Billy won’t talk with you. Or in case one of the other ghosts saw something and is willing to talk.”
“Good idea.”
In the blink of an eye, Emma’s headache intensified, and dizziness engulfed her like a tsunami. She was so tired she wanted to drop in her tracks and sleep where she fell. Phil noticed her sway and put an arm around her waist to steady her.
“Why don’t you go back to the cottage and get a good night’s sleep. I’ll bet you’re all bushed.”
After going back inside to collect their things, Emma, Tracy, Milo, and Archie piled into Tracy’s Prius for the ride back to the cottage. Phil bent down to talk to Emma through the open passenger’s window. He handed her something in a leather case. Emma opened it and found a pistol.
“I don’t want this, Phil.”
“Take it, just for tonight. I’d feel better if you had it. It’s already loaded. Any danger, just point and squeeze the trigger.”
“I’m not sure. It makes me nervous.”
Tracy leaned over and checked out the gun in Emma’s hand. “That thing will make us all nervous.”
Phil took the gun back. “Then I guess I’ll have to sleep on the sofa in the cottage. I’ll grab a few things and be right behind you.”
“No, Phil, don’t,” Emma told him. “You didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night. Sleep in your own bed. Besides, we have Archie.” At the sound of his name, the dog poked his nose between the front seats and wagged his short tail. “He’ll alert us if a stranger comes along. He might like ghosts, but he really is a good watchdog.”
“Well, so is Killer, but I still wouldn’t expect him to take a bullet for me.”
Archie seemed as restless as Emma. He circled the bedroom several times before laying down on a braided rug in the middle of the floor. Soon he was back at it, pacing, trying to find just the right position. Without his own bed, he couldn’t sleep. In spite of the comfortable bed she was in, Emma understood his frustration.
Emma, Tracy, and Milo had driven back to the cottage in near silence. And even though it wasn’t that late, all of them had turned in almost as soon as they’d gotten back. No ghosts had come with them. Emma figured Granny had used up her power pack and was off recharging. Garrett hadn’t been seen since his chat with Milo.
Earlier, before they’d gone over to the Bowers ranch, Emma had taken her friends to the cottage to drop off their bags. The cottage had two bedrooms. One had a queen-size bed, the other contained twin beds. The women and Archie were sharing the room with the two beds. Emma looked over at Tracy. She was on her stomach, dead to the world except for a slight snore.
When Archie started taking another turn just ten minutes after his last, Emma invited him up onto the end of the bed. The dog happily accepted, and the two of them finally fell into a fitful sleep.
Emma sat up with a start, her heart racing like a muscle car. The room was completely dark except for the glow from the small clock on the nightstand between the beds. Archie had moved up next to her on the bed and was nudging her. It had been his wet nose against her cheek that had shot adrenaline through her body as if with a hypodermic needle.
Seeing his mission accomplished, Archie hopped off the bed. The black dog in the dark room was not easy to see, but when Archie started lightly scratching at the closed door to the bedroom, Emma knew what he needed. She looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. They’d been asleep two short hours.
At home, Archie had a small doggie door for his nocturnal bathroom needs. No such luck here. Emma swung her feet to the floor and felt around for her sneakers. As she slipped her feet into them, she had a thought.
The cemetery wasn’t that far from the cottage. And even though it was the middle of the night, what better time to visit a graveyard looking for ghosts? Emma gave a brief thought to the killer but dismissed it. At one in the morning, he’d probably be asleep, too, or else long gone from Julian. She could go, talk to Billy, and be back before anyone knew. Of course, she would catch the dickens from everyone, especially Phil, when they found out, but by then it would be over with and, hopefully, she’d have the information she sought.
Quietly, she slipped on her jeans, tucking her nightgown down into them. Picking up her tennis shoes, she opened the door and tiptoed out into the living room, being careful as she closed the bedroom door behind her. Grateful for the thoughtfully placed nightlights in the bathroom and kitchen, Emma made a quick stop in the bathroom to pee, then she latched Archie’s leash to his collar and grabbed her lightweight jacket.
Once again, she thought about the flashlight in her car, but that ship had sailed in more ways than one. Before leaving, Emma went into the kitchen. The doors to the bedrooms were shut tight, so she turned on the overhead light. It didn’t take her long to locate an emergency flashlight stored on top of the refrigerator. Blessing the owner for thinking of such small amenities, Emma grabbed the flashlight and made her way out the front door with Archie.
She didn’t turn on the flashlight while she walked. She didn’t need to. The moon wasn’t quite full, but it was bright enough to guide her down th
e small side street to Main Street. Once there, she felt comfortable walking along the storefronts. Archie trotted in front of her at the end of his leash, stopping here and there to smell and pee.
When they approached the Pioneer Cemetery, Emma had a choice to make. She could go up the steep, winding stairs or go the long way via the road. This time, she chose the road. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she passed under the crime-scene tape that blocked the entrance.
The moon spread a dim carpet of light in front of her as she made her way up the road. To her right were the newer graves, set in a more orderly fashion along the slope. At the top, the road branched to the right and left. It was actually a one-way road that circled the cemetery like a halo. Here, cars could only make a right- hand turn, but pedestrians and ghosts had no such rules to follow.
Emma stopped to get her bearings and to let her eyes adjust. The graveyard, with its awning of trees, was darker than the road leading up to it. Afraid someone up late in nearby houses might see her, she hadn’t used the flashlight yet, but now she switched it on and pointed it downward to minimize any chance of being seen. The yellow beam cast a spot of light on the road as she turned right and tried to find Billy’s bench in the dark.
Archie let her know the ghosts were there before she could clearly make them out. He pulled her forward, sniffing first at one foggy image, then another. He didn’t seem tense or anxious, just curious about them. As Emma let her eyes and mind relax, she began to see what Archie sensed. The graveyard was alive with spirits, even more than the first time she visited. In the inky darkness of deep night, they shimmered with their own kind of life.
Tugging the excited Archie along the curving road, Emma came across her first bench but knew instantly that it wasn’t Billy’s. It didn’t face toward town and wasn’t under a large tree. The two nocturnal wanderers kept moving, going slowly in the dark, guided only by the small splash of light. Emma stopped at the next bench.
“Hello, Billy.”
Sue Ann Jaffarian - [Granny Apples 01] Page 21