by Mary Bowers
I started waving my hands around crazily as Bernie frowned. “Don’t you see? It explains everything. Porter’s strap, why Michael stopped playing golf, Jazz’s glasses, the sale of my house falling through when it did, Charlie constantly misplacing his blueprints, and – omigod – even the murder!”
“What murder?”
I wasn’t even listening to her. I sat back, overwhelmed by the synchronicity, then added, “Well, almost everything. It doesn’t explain the lady in the loft.”
“Honey, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’m talking about hizzoner the Mayor taking bribes. What’s all this about a murder?”
“Oh! Thanks for reminding me. Can Kyle get a police diver to go down to the riverbed around the spot where Seth drowned?” Kyle Longley was the Flagler County Sheriff, and also a close friend of Bernie’s. Some people even called him her boyfriend, though he was much younger than she. “Do they have a diver on the Sheriff’s Police Force?”
“Taylor, they’re all divers. Maybe not officially, but this is Florida. All of his men can dive, but why should they? Was Seth murdered?”
“Yes. But the Mayor isn’t the mole,” I said, thinking fast. “He can’t be. What’s all this about bribes? How did you find that out?”
She gave me her “disappointed nanny” look. “I can’t believe Michael hasn’t told you this himself. Taylor, why don’t you just call him?”
“Michael? What’s he got to do with it?”
“He’s the one who uncovered the mole.”
“That’s right, he did!” I said, popping out of my chair, goggle-eyed. I whisked around the counter and gave Bernie a kiss on the cheek. “I’ve got to talk to him. Don’t forget about the diver. ‘Bye, Bernie. And thanks!”
Before I was out her front door, she yelled, “For what?”
It was a bit longer of a walk to Michael’s house, since he lived near the beach in a tonier neighborhood. It gave me time to grow up a little. I should have called Michael days ago, and now that I realized he’d been going through some serious stuff, I felt bad that I hadn’t been there for him. In fact, I’d given him a little extra grief.
He opened the door and we stood there looking at one another for a moment. Then I took the last step up, put my arms around him and murmured into his warm shirt: “I’m sorry.”
He tightened his arms around me, put his face against my head and said, “Me too.”
“Come back, Michael.”
“I can’t. Not until I finish . . . some very unpleasant business.”
I turned my head and looked at him. “Tell me about it. I want to help.”
He made a little smile and his light blue eyes were shining. Then he gave me a quick, impulsive kiss. “You can’t. But you can come in and listen while I blow off some steam. This has been eating me up. I could sure use somebody to talk to.”
“You remember that Benny hasn’t been golfing because he had eye surgery? Well, Bud Kady got a guy to take his place in our foursome on Saturday. A new guy named Marshall Grant. Bud, Wesley and this Marshall were very chummy during the round, talking about things I didn’t understand. When Bud realized I was beginning to catch onto what they were talking about, he gave them the high sign and they cut it out.”
“So what did you think they were talking about?”
“I did an internet search for this guy Grant as soon as I got back into my office, and it turns out he’s a key man for Lance Skinner. The big-shot developer.”
I nodded. “It makes sense that he was interested in Graeme Huntington’s property, but you never said anything about an offer being made.”
“Graeme wanted it kept quiet. There might be people around Tropical Breeze who’d like a big development a few miles south of town to bring in tourists. There wasn’t a chance in hell Graeme would consider selling the place, and he didn’t want to deal with people who had other opinions. Besides, you were so busy getting Cadbury House ready – I just never mentioned it to you. But I knew about the offer, and it was easy to put two and two together on the golf course and guess what was going on.”
“Oh, Michael! Do you think your friends . . . ?”
“I don’t think, I know. I only suspected then, but on Monday I called the State’s Attorney, and her office was already investigating. She swore me to secrecy, reminded me that I was a member of the Bar and an Officer of the Court, practically made me take the Boy Scout’s pledge, and then it came out that I was under investigation too, because I golf with these guys!”
“Are you kidding me? You mean Bud and Wesley –“
“The head of the Tropical Breeze Planning Commission and the Mayor? Great guys to have in your pocket if you want a little help with rezoning and generally greasing the wheels while you put up a huge development that most people don’t want.”
“Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry.”
He stood up from the kitchen counter chair and began pacing, his face red and angry. “I know these men. I went to school with them! How could they betray the public trust like this?”
I thought about it. “It was the deal of a lifetime, and they knew there would never be another one – not on that scale, anyway. They probably even rationalized that they were doing the right thing for Tropical Breeze, whether the people who live here wanted it or not. Lots of politicians fall into that kind of thinking. Did they approach you to go in with them?”
He stopped and stared at me. “Hell no! They know me better than that. But Skinner wanted the Cadbury property badly, and what he’d have to pay in bribes would be chickenfeed compared to what he’d make on a huge development. Think of it! Fifteen hundred acres sitting on the river, not far from major routes – it’s perfect! Considering that I’m Graeme’s lawyer, considering my relationship with you, and the fact that you want Cadbury House for your shelter, I think you can call it a conflict of interest, from their point of view.”
“What about the other guy in the foursome – Benny – was he in on it?”
“I’m sure he isn’t. He doesn’t hold public office, so he’d be of no use to them. I’m on the Planning Commission with Bud, but he has the swing vote, and they were probably counting on that. I swear they never approached me, and I think the State’s Attorney believes me, but it could get dicey if they try to implicate me.”
“Oh, Michael! Do you think they will?”
“They might get vengeful when they find out I was ready to turn them in.”
“But you said the investigation was already ongoing.”
“Right.”
“And they are your friends – old friends.”
He looked at me, exhausted. “I thought they were.”
Michael agreed to come back to Cadbury House with me that day. After I explained the other things I had figured out, he was worried about my safety. Which reminded me –
“By the way, I’m bringing a cat home.”
“A cat? Fine with me, but with all this going on, when did you find time to adopt a cat?”
“I didn’t adopt her. She adopted me.”
Many humans talk that way about their animals, but I really meant it. Finally I understood why she’d come. I actually could be in danger until the killer was caught, and she had come to protect me.
“I’m just sorry I wasn’t there for you when all this came down on your head, Michael.”
“You had enough to worry about – and you weren’t exactly happy with me just then,” he said, giving me a hug and a kiss. “Now go get your cat. I’ll be out to Cadbury House later. Is Ed still there?”
“Yes. And I’m glad he is. For a little guy, he’s pretty intrepid. He actually likes spending nights in graveyards!”
“We have a mole,” I said to Ed across the great room as I came in and let the black cat out of its carrier.
“I know,” he told me. “I just figured it out myself. But I don’t know who it is. Do you?”
“Yes. And I think I can prove it.”
Myrtle, coming in and only hearing par
t of the conversation, said, “Of course we have moles. And armadillos and lizards and raccoons. It’s Florida. Isn’t that that cat you used to have? Basket?”
“Yes. She showed up at the shop again today.”
Myrtle gazed off thoughtfully, as if she actually knew all about the mystical cat. She had been very close to Vesta when she’d worked for The Family. Maybe she did understand in some vague way. Cryptically, she said, “Good. I’m glad she’s here. She’s no Wicked, but she’s something.”
She walked out of the room. Basket looked around, mildly interested, and then promenaded toward my office, which had once been Vesta’s bedroom. Vesta had died there.
“Come and sit down and tell me what you’ve found out,” he said, lowering his voice.
I did. When I’d told him about the Mayor and Planning Commissioner taking bribes, he waved a hand, disinterested.
“That’s not the mole I’m talking about. I’m talking about the one right here, hiding in plain sight and playing all these pranks, though the word ‘playing’ is hardly appropriate. Now that I know a major developer is after the property, I’d say they’re not playing at all, and things could get a lot worse.”
“Hiding in plain sight,” I repeated thoughtfully. “So you’re actually thinking along the same lines that I am.”
He nodded. “Teddy. Or somebody on his crew.”
“Yeah. That’s what I think.”
“How are we going to find out who it is – and prove it?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I saw Wizard over at the diner today, and he said the show had been cancelled. Did you know that?”
“There are rumors all over the chat rooms. After the thing with Seth . . . .”
“Right. Wizard said Teddy is the only one in denial. They’re wrapping up the show – actually, the final show – at the lighthouse in St. Augustine tonight. I think we ought to pay them a little visit and do some probing.”
He gazed at me quietly for a moment, then said, “Are you sure? We can’t go flinging accusations without a plan. That could actually make things worse.”
“I’m sure.”
The doorbell rang.
“By the way,” I said, standing up to answer the door, “I finally patched things up with Michael. He’s coming back later. But that’s not him; he has a key. I’m hoping that’s the police.”
His eyebrows rose, but he didn’t say anything.
It turned out to be the police diver I’d been hoping for. I explained to him what to look for, and took him out to the river where I’d seen the black mark on the seawall the night Seth died.
Then I headed to the old servants’ cabins where I’d stashed Porter’s strap. It was still there. I held it a moment, appalled at the pictures in my mind, then brought it into the house and hid it in a safe place.
Chapter 22
The St. Augustine lighthouse is reputed to be one of the most haunted places in America. I’ve visited the lighthouse many times, and climbed the 219 steps to enjoy the view, but the creepiest place to me is the basement of the lighthouse-keeper’s house.
Naturally, Ed has spent a lot of time there, pretty much getting nowhere with the ghosts. The hauntings are supposed to stem from the deaths by drowning of three little girls in 1873. A lighthouse keeper fell to his death from the tower in 1853, but most ghost-hunters are more intrigued by the little girls, particularly the two who were sisters. My guess was that Teddy was basing the show on them, and that Edson might go over the edge when he caught Teddy wandering around calling their names. While never coming up with any evidence that they did, in fact, haunt the place, Ed was strangely protective of them. If he went off on Teddy, he’d be useless to me. All the way to St. Augustine in my car, with Michael in the passenger seat, I lectured Ed, talking over my shoulder and sending stern looks into the back seat via the rear-view mirror. We were there to investigate a murder, I told him, not a haunting, and we certainly weren’t there to expose a phony whose show had already been cancelled. Michael just sat there beside me, enjoying the view and quietly smiling.
It was close to midnight when we arrived and parked, and we had to stumble over dark ground up to the lighthouse-keeper’s house, where Teddy and his crew had commandeered the place for the night and turned off as many lights as possible. The crew was looking listless, and I figured their minds were more on their resumes than on the defunct show.
The approach to the lighthouse was through a lush setting of old-growth trees and native plants, but Teddy had had the landscaping lights turned off. Normally, they lit the undersides of huge leaves, lining the dark greens with a cheerful lime color under a dome of indigo night, and surrounding the path with an enchanted garden. Tonight, we had to resort to our smart-phone flashlight apps to keep from walking straight into trees.
“Hey,” a disembodied voice said as we got close, “turn those lights off.”
A depressed crew member shambled over to run us off. When he recognized Ed he told him hello and didn’t bother us anymore. His heart hadn’t been in it anyway.
Nobody else seemed to be around. Even the lights in the tower’s spiral stairway were off, and with clouds drifting over the slice of moon, it was like groping your way through the underworld. Far above us, the arms of the tower’s light swept majestically around, too high to illuminate the ground.
The back stairways of the keeper’s house are painted white and show up clearly in the dark. It’s a curious and lovely dwelling, built to house two families, and is split from front to back by a double hallway with identical rooms on either side. There are two exterior stairways to the second floor bedrooms, and they stand against the back of the house symmetrically, like zig-zags of gingerbread icing. Altogether, the Victorian-style redbrick house is charming: small, efficient, and cozy. Cooking was done outside in identical little brick buildings on either side of the house.
The yard between the lighthouse and the keeper’s house was strangely empty, and the few men roaming in the gloaming were as deflated as the guy who’d tried to stop us.
“What’s going on?” Ed asked a passing crewmember. “Where’s Teddy?”
“That you Ed? They’re filming in the bedrooms upstairs. But don’t tell them I told you so.”
“Thanks.” Ed turned to Michael and me. “Well, do we take the bull by the horns, or lurk around in the basement until they come down so we can jump out and say boo?”
“Neither,” I said. “Let’s just approach quietly and see what they’re doing. I wonder if they got somebody to replace Seth?” I added, mostly to myself as we walked up to the house.
“No,” Ed said, because of course, he knew. “Personally, I always thought Teddy felt threatened by Seth. You know – younger, better looking, more psychically gifted – I figured one of these days Teddy would find a way to edge him out of the show.” He stopped as he realized what he’d said. “Not that way, of course. I’m no fan, but Teddy’s not evil. Just, you know, inept.”
“We know,” Michael said.
I made no comment.
We were climbing the stairs by that time. As we gathered on the landing, Ed lowered his voice and said, “I don’t know how they’re going to make it scary in there now. The central dividing wall upstairs has been removed, and they’ve set up an exhibit of some kind. It doesn’t look like it did when there were bedrooms up here.”
About that time, we heard Teddy’s voice crooning inside, and we quietly opened the door and stepped in.
A large display partition kept us from seeing what was going on in the room, but when we peeked around it, we saw Teddy, bathed in light and holding a large rag doll.
“Eliza, can you hear me?” he was calling. “We’re here to help you move on, Eliza. Do you want to come and play with us a while?”
That did it.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Ed shouted.
The videographer reacted instinctively and swung the focus onto Ed, while Jazz and Pluto covered Teddy with their own, much smaller ca
meras. Wizard, in his role of oddball scientist, was standing just inside the circle of light, looking abstracted.
“Ah,” Teddy said smugly. “The Unbeliever. We may as well cut. If Eliza wanted to come to me, she’s scampered away by now.”
“Do NOT make her sound like a furry little thing that chews on the woodwork! She was a girl – a real, living, breathing girl.”
Needless to say, the cameras were still rolling.
“And you brought your lawyer,” Teddy cooed, smiling at Michael, who bowed slightly. “Thinking about slapping us with some paperwork? You have no rights here, Edson. We have permission to film here.”
“You may have permission,” Ed said grandly, “but you have no right!”
The crew was loving it, capturing every nuance of the two paranormal prima donnas.
“And you too, Taylor,” Teddy said. “Welcome, welcome. We were just about to move to the basement, where I expect to see some real action. Care to join us?”
“That depends,” I said. “Are you planning to do a normal episode to wrap up your series, or is somebody else going to die?”
Even Teddy was shocked, and he stood there holding his stupid rag doll with his mouth open.
When he got his breath back, he said, “How dare you . . . !”
“Because Seth was murdered, and I know how. Want to hear about it?”
All the entities in the room, the living and the theoretical dead, became unnaturally still.
“Please,” I said, gesturing to rows of folding chairs set before a video display. “Let’s get comfortable, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
Even the videographer wasn’t grinning now, though he had never stopped filming.
I was happy to see that Teddy was getting furious enough to lose control.
“You will not ruin this shoot,” he yelled. He threw the ragdoll down on the floor like a spoiled child. “I’ve faced too much adversity this week already, and I will not be defeated! We are moving to the basement,” he said to his crew and co-stars, and he led them past us, deliberately bumping into Ed as he went by. The poor ragdoll lay on the floor grinning idiotically at the ceiling.