The House on Hallowed Ground

by Nancy Cole Silverman

  “And what, Detective?” Zoey’s eyes swept from Romero to Chad and back again.

  “And she was pregnant.” The detective pinned his eyes to Zoey’s and studied her response.

  “Pregnant?” Zoey went pale.

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No.” Zoey shook her head. “She didn’t say anything.”

  Romero made a note on his clipboard.

  Chad put his arm protectively around Zoey. “You don’t have to answer any questions, Zoey.” Then to the detective he added, “You got a search warrant or something?”

  “I’m not here to search the property, son. We did that the day Lacey died, and again after somebody tossed the place. What I want to do now is ask a couple questions that might help us to understand what happened here.”

  “You really think this is necessary?” Chad looked at Zoey then back to the group of their friends on the couch. “We’re in the middle of mourning Lacey’s death, Detective. This is hardly the time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Romero said, “but I’ve got a job to do. Shouldn’t take long.”

  “Chad, the detective’s right.” Zoey put her hand on Chad’s chest and gently pushed him away. “What do you want to know?”

  “When I was here the morning you reported finding Lacey’s body in the spa, I told you we found a cigarette butt, with lipstick on it, out by the pool. You said Lacey didn’t smoke, and the coroner didn’t find any signs of her smoking either. So, I’d like to collect DNA samples from each of you. See if we can get a match to that cigarette butt.”

  Chad interrupted. “You’re barking up the wrong tree, Detective. If you think Zoey killed Lacey because you found some cigarette butt in the backyard and you’re trying to match it to Zoey, you’re crazy. Zoey loved Lacey. We all loved her. Why would Zoey or anyone here want to kill her?”

  “Hold on,” Romero held his hand up. “Nobody’s accusing anybody of murder.”

  “Murder? So now it’s murder? And you’re talking to us?” Chad wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, none of us were here that night, ’cept Zoey, and she was asleep. Isn’t that right, Zoe? I was at the studio with Zac and Kelsey. We had a late recording session that night. You can check if you like.”

  Romero made another note on his clipboard.

  “Besides,” Chad nodded to the window to the backyard, “for all we know, someone might have snuck in through the back gate from the park. You said yourself it was unlocked. Park’s closed at night, who knows if a hiker snuck in? Maybe saw Lacey by the spa, mistook her for Zoey, and killed her. Stars like Zoey always have stalkers.”

  “Stop it, Chad.” Zoey covered her ears. “The detective’s not here to accuse me or any of us. He needs our help. And if it helps to understand whatever happened to Lacey, I’m down with it. If you need DNA samples, we’ll do it, and anything else, too.”

  The detective checked off something on his clipboard, then said, “I need a complete list of people who have been in the house the last couple of days, plus the names of anyone who may have known the security code.”

  Zoey answered, “As far as a list of everybody, I don’t know. People come and go around here. Chad takes a lot of meetings at the house. As for as the security code, just me, Chad, and I suppose Zac and Kelsey. They stay over sometimes, and also my housekeeper, and my personal assistant.”

  “Ms. Martini?” Romero glanced back at the clipboard.

  “Crystal,” Zoey said.

  “That’s a name? Crystal Martini?”

  “It is in Hollywood,” Zoey answered. “But if you’ve issues with her name, you can ask her. I’m expecting her here soon. In fact,” Zoey glanced through the window beside the front door. From behind her, I could see a woman outside in the courtyard. She took a final drag on her cigarette, then snuffed it out with the toe of her shoe and approached the front door. “That’s her coming up the walk now.”

  Crystal Martini was tall, trim, and without an ounce of fat on a size two frame. I guesstimate her to be in her mid to late twenties, and hard. The type of woman who looked like she had been born to wear a business suit and comfortable in five-inch steel heels. Her hair was short. Sheared above the ear on one side of her head and cut geometrically on the other in a bleached blonde bob that shingled up the back of her neck.

  Zoey let Crystal in and introduced the detective. “Crystal, this is Detective Romero. He’s here because the coroner believes somebody may have murdered Lacey.”

  I would have expected a response, a look of surprise or a gasp at the very least, but Crystal was cool as her name. With a briefcase in one hand, Chrystal gave Zoey a quick hug, and with the other shook Detective Romero’s hand.

  “I’m sure there must be some mistake, Detective, but if there’s anything you’d like to know, you can ask me. I was here for dinner the night Lacey drowned. The three of us dined together in the kitchen. I brought in a risotto from Angelinos. It’s one of Zoey’s favorites, and I left right after we finished eating so Lacey could run lines with Zoey. Zoey was tired, and she told me she didn’t expect to work much past ten. I suggested she take a sleeping pill so she could get a good night’s sleep. The next morning she called and told me Lacey had drowned.”

  The detective turned to Zoey. “And that was the last time you saw Lacey alive?”

  “Detective,” Crystal interrupted. “I think Zoey made it very clear the last time she talked to you that she and Lacey thought they had heard a sound. A cat or something outside. Wasn’t that right, Zoey?”

  Zoey nodded. “It was getting late. I was exhausted, and Lacey told me she wanted to check on it and would let herself out. We both thought it was just some feral cat. Nothing to worry about. And like Crystal said, I took a sleeping pill and went to bed.”

  “I’m sorry, Detective, I’m afraid that’s all she can remember.” Crystal stepped between Romero and Zoey and gestured with her hand toward the door.

  Romero wasn’t about to be put off by Crystal and putting his hand on her shoulder pushed her out of the way until he was face to face with Zoey. “And then the next morning, right after finding your best friend dead in the spa, you left that afternoon for the studio. Is that right?”

  “Your point, Detective?” Crystal wasn’t about to let Zoey answer any more questions and put her hand on the door and held it open.

  “I’m just filling in a timeline.”

  “Then you understand deadlines. And know Zoey’s working on a movie, and that she couldn’t come back here after the accident. It was too awful. So the studio put her up at a hotel that night, and while she was out, I arranged for a cleaning crew to come in and clean up the place.”

  “You arranged for the cleaning crew?” Romero looked back at his clipboard, ready to check something off.

  “I did, and I’m sure you understand, Zoey’s very upset by what happened with Lacey. She’s an artist and very sensitive. Since moving in, she’s had a fear that the house was haunted. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and after Lacey drowned, she was afraid the ghost had something to do with it. Chad and I both agreed it might be a good idea to have someone come in and scour the place. That it might make her more comfortable. I’m afraid coming home the next day and finding the place tossed didn’t help.”

  “I’m sure it didn’t, Ms. Martini, but uncomfortable as it may be for Zoey, I’ll need to talk to everyone here, including Zoey.”

  “Are you suggesting she’s a suspect?”

  “No, but right now we’re conducting an investigation and difficult as it may be for you, working with a big movie star and all, I’m sure you understand the importance of cooperating.”

  Crystal stretched her hand out for Zoey. “Detective, you’ve made it very clear you have a job to do, but before you go any further, I need you to understand something. This movie Zoey’s making, it’s the biggest in her life. It’s a multi-million-dollar productio
n. Talk to whomever you like, but if you need to talk with Zoey again, you’ll have to arrange it with her attorney.”

  Chapter 11

  When Wilson and I got back to his house, I fixed myself a cup of lavender tea. I needed something to settle my nerves. I sensed Detective Romero’s call on Zoey foreshadowed trouble, and asked Wilson to join me at the dining room table. If he had connected with Alicia Mae, perhaps she might know something about the night Lacey drowned, and if she did, I wanted to know.

  “Tell me you’ve got some good news. That you did more than just observe our little ghost this time.”

  Wilson looked pleased with himself, and with the chair’s back to the table, straddled the seat opposite me, cowboy style. “I should get Brownie points or whatever it is you give out for good behavior.”

  “Good behavior?” I put my cup down. “Need I remind you, Wilson, your work here is a kind of quid pro quo.”

  “Oh, that’s right. That is how this is supposed to work, isn’t it?” Wilson smiled and jiggled the back of his chair. “Well, then, you’ll be happy to know, not only did I talk with Alicia, but she invited me to a tea party.” Wilson paused and waited for my reply.

  “A tea party? And how may I ask, is it you went from Alicia running away from you to inviting you for tea?”

  “Simple. Girls love bling. I found a sparkly barrette on Zoey’s dresser, something that looked like Zoey might have worn as a child, and offered it to her.”

  “And for that, she invited you to tea?”

  “She did, and not just tea. Turns out there’s a playhouse in the backyard beneath the big weeping willow tree. In front of it is a child-sized picnic table. The playhouse is just behind the pool. Alicia said her father built it for her. It looks like a little gingerbread house with all the trimmings. But I suppose you haven’t seen it since you mere mortals wouldn’t be able to.” Wilson smiled, beaming with pleasure at his new found discovery.

  “Indeed,” I said. Noting the pleased tone in Wilson’s voice, I added a little of my own. “However, now that you’ve mentioned it to this mere mortal woman of psychic powers, I’ll be sure to look for it.”

  “You’re welcome. And, if it helps to know, it appears Alicia’s gone to live there, at least temporarily.”

  “Did she say why?”

  The idea that Alicia was living in the playhouse didn’t surprise me. If something had happened to frighten her—if she had seen Lacey drown—it made sense she would seek refuge in a safe place, and Zoey or anyone living in Zoey’s house would never know the playhouse was still there. In reality, the playhouse had been torn down years ago, but in the spirit world, where Alicia lived and Wilson hovered between, it still existed. In its own sphere, invisible to those currently inhabiting the Pink Mansion.

  “I didn’t ask why she was living there. But I can tell you this, Heather was right, Alicia Mae has a lisp and the most becoming giggle. Not at all shrill or annoying like many little girls.”

  “Dare I say, it sounds to me like our little ghost has wrapped you around her little finger, Wilson.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but I am curious.” He got up from the table, walked to the window, and looked outside, “Is Alicia Mae stuck here like me? Is she a shade?”

  I took another long sip of my tea before I answered. I didn’t know, but the thought had occurred to me.

  “Possibly,” I said. “If she’s been here since she drowned, all those years ago, maybe. If she was a ghost, it’s more likely she would have come and gone, and if she had, she wouldn’t be alone. Ghosts like company, they seldom travel alone unless they’ve attached themselves to someone for a specific purpose. And then it’s usually temporary. The fact Heather remembers her as well makes me wonder if perhaps there’s a reason why Alicia hasn’t left.”

  “If she’s a shade, why has it taken her so long to transition? You told me not to get too settled, that once the universe had made its mind up about me, I could go at any time. Certainly, the powers-that-be can’t have any doubts about a child. Why would she still be here? All alone like she is?”

  I looked down at my teacup. The spirit world was as full of mystery as the mortal world. In many ways, they’re mirror images of each other. My only answer to Wilson’s question was that we each have a mission to fulfill. When we’ve accomplished what we’ve been sent here to do, we leave. “My sense is, she’s waiting for something or someone. Did she mention anything about the pool? Or Lacey? Or the accident?”

  “We didn’t talk about the accident or Lacey for that matter. But she did say she is afraid of the water. She won’t go near the pool. She said her doll had fallen in once and she had gone after it. That her mother was very mad at her because of it. I got the feeling she felt as though she had been sent to her room and was waiting for her mother to come and tell her it was okay to come out again.”

  “That’s a long time out,” I said.

  “Yes, but from this side, time is different. Tomorrow can be yesterday and yesterday hasn’t even happened yet.”

  “An interesting observation, and one I will have to take into consideration.” I thanked him for his work and told him I needed my meditation time. Time to think about what I had learned about Zoey and Alicia Mae. Why the two had found their way to me, and what it was I was meant to do.

  I had never encountered a shade that had stuck around as long as Alicia Mae, but the fact she was still here, in the same house she had died in seventy-five years earlier, told me she had a very good reason not to leave. Perhaps Wilson was right. Maybe she was waiting for her mother to return. Or perhaps she had attached herself to Zoey like she had to Heather, because she identified with her. If so, why?

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, I woke with a sense of urgency and a need to get my hands dirty. I do some of my best thinking when I’m gardening. There is something about the soft feel of earth between my fingers that grounds my thoughts and allows that part of me that gravitates to the other side to come forward.

  And as I tended to my nursery of young greens and herbs in the back yard, I let my mind wander freely. A myriad of thoughts, from the scene at Zoey’s house, to Detective Romero’s news LAPD had opened an investigation into Lacey’s death, and back to Alicia Mae and Wilson’s report to me about the playhouse in the backyard. None of my thoughts were fully flushed out, but I had an overwhelming sense of anxiety something was about to happen, when Wilson called to me.

  “You best get yourself cleaned up, Old Gal, you have a caller.”

  Wilson stood at the back door, the screen partially opened. It wasn’t yet nine o’clock, and I generally don’t begin readings until at least ten a.m. But as I got to my feet, I realized I had been expecting something or someone since sun up. Hence my early morning rush to the garden.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “Crystal,” Wilson said. “She’s on the front porch. She looks upset.”

  Ah, so this was the cause of my early morning angst. I opened the door. Crystal pushed by me and stopped in the entryway.

  “I need to see you,” she said.

  In her arms, Crystal hugged a large leather Hermes bag against her chest like a Roman shield. The cost of it more than my entire earnings last year. I sensed she feared I might cast some magic spell on her—thus the shield—and stepped back behind the door and gestured politely in the direction of the living room.

  “Please come in.” I might have added I had been expecting her, but I knew that might only add to her agitated state and instead smiled sweetly.

  “I’m on my way to Lacey’s memorial. I don’t have a lot of time.” Crystal got as far as the couch and spun around. “But first, you have to promise not to tell Zoey I was here.”

  I stopped short of entering the living room. Wilson behind me, his back against the study door. “Here it comes. The star’s personal manager has come to intercede. Buckle your
seatbelt.”

  With my teeth clenched and my lips barely moving, I told Wilson to zip it, then broke my smile and assured Crystal all my conversations were confidential. “But, I must add, if your visit is in regard to Lacey’s death or anything related, you really should talk to Detective Romero.”

  “No.” Crystal raised her hands to the ceiling. “It has nothing to do with Lacey or her death for that matter. It has to do with you, Misty.”

  Crystal pointed a finger directly at me. Like a dagger.

  “Me?”

  “I need you to back off.”

  Wilson let out another Bronx cheer. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Crystal wasn’t the first person to object because I had gotten too close to a friend or revealed information their significant other didn’t like and wanted me to back off.

  “You can interpret that any way you like. I tried to tell you the other day. Zoey’s fragile. She’s under tremendous pressure from the studio, and this nonsense you’re feeding her about a ghost has got people questioning her sanity. I need you to stop.”

  “This nonsense I’m feeding her?”

  “Yes, you. Until you came along this idea about a ghost was all just some fanciful thinking on her part. Something she manifested based on a few creaks and croaks she heard in the house at night. And now you’ve got her believing there really is a ghost living in the house. So how much is it going to take, Misty?” Crystal reached into her expensive Hermes bag and pulled out a checkbook. “A thousand dollars? Two thousand? Tell me. I’ll write you a check right now, and next time Zoey comes by you can tell her you were wrong. That it wasn’t a ghost at all. Make up any excuse you like, but tell her you can’t see her again. I’ll make it worth your while.”