Wishbones

by Carolyn Haines

  “We’re working on it.”

  “Sheriff, have you determined a motive for Suzy’s death? I mean, looking at it from my point of view, why would I kill her when I already have the part?”

  Silence stretched between us. At last he spoke. “You might not have as much to gain as Marquez, when it comes right down to it.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said sweetly, “but what does Federico have to gain from the death of a former girlfriend?”

  “Oh, I’d say there could be numerous answers to that question. Marquez is something of a legend in the Hollywood Hills. A lot of people had scores to settle with him, and maybe Suzy Dutton was trying.”

  Arguing with King was like spitting into the wind. “Am I still a suspect?”

  “That sheriff in Sunflower County speaks highly of you, Miss Delaney. He assured me you were never a serious suspect in the murder of Renata Trovaioli, but that he had to arrest you because of the evidence that had been planted to frame you.”

  Coleman was a day late and a dollar short with his explanations. But there was no point going into that with Grady King. “So am I off your suspect list?”

  “Maybe.”

  He was as thorny as a Devil’s Walking Stick. “I’ll take that as a yes. Sheriff, could you possibly check on Federico’s daughter, Estelle?” I gave him her Malibu address. “She’s been here in Petaluma, but she left Costa Rica suddenly yesterday and we’re concerned that we haven’t heard from her. She isn’t answering her phone.”

  “Why concerned?”

  I didn’t want to overplay it. “She’s high-strung and she’s had emotional problems in the past. Just a call or drive by her place to make sure she’s okay would be great.”

  “I’ll get an officer out there as soon as I hang up. I’m sure we have someone in the Hollywood Brat Babysitter department. Hey, if Federico’s daughter was in Malibu—”

  “She was in Petaluma, according to her roommate, at the time of Suzy’s death.” That wasn’t a proven fact, but I didn’t want King giving Estelle the rough treatment until I knew she was guilty. “Even though you’re ill-tempered, I thank you.” I meant it, too. If I knew Estelle was truly in Malibu—and okay—it would give me some necessary answers about what was happening in Petaluma.

  “When is the film crew returning to the States?” he asked.

  “In a couple of days. We’re almost finished.”

  “Tell Marquez to check in with me as soon as he gets into town. And let me remind you, Miss Delaney, that if you aren’t involved in the murder, then it’s possible you’re a future target. Bobby Joe Taylor has convinced me that the note left on the mirror was meant for you. So take that into account when you’re flitting around the area.”

  “I feel better knowing that you’re concerned for my safety. Have a good afternoon.” I hung up. Even though I enjoyed my moment of one-upsmanship, King’s words troubled me. Bad things were happening around this movie. Someone had a burn on for Federico or someone involved with the film. And until we found out who that person was and stopped him or her, things could get worse.

  Once Tinkie and Chablis were safely tucked in bed, Graf and I found some time alone. Instead of a stolen few passionate kisses in the garden alcoves, we had the night to ourselves. With all of the commotion going on, I hadn’t been able to focus on Graf and my feelings for him. As the moon peeked in the bedroom window, I set about putting that to right.

  A breeze with a trace of salt rumbaed with the sheer curtains and teased our superheated skin as we made love. We were different, both of us, than we’d been in New York. We were gentler in some ways and more savage in others. But there was no doubt that we were kinder to each other in every way. The sense that time would run out for us—an emotion that had dominated our relationship in New York—was gone. We took our time with each other, savoring each touch, each sensation.

  There is no aphrodisiac like self-confidence, and I found a willing partner in Graf. In our bed, there wasn’t room for fear. In that wonderful way of passion, the more I had, the more I wanted.

  Graf had just begun a wicked exploration of the backs of my knees with his mouth when there was a loud crash from downstairs followed by an eardrum-piercing scream.

  Sweetie began barking and clawing at the bedroom door with such franticness that it sent a shaft of fear through me. Tinkie was alone in her room with only Chablis to protect her. Chablis would do her best—and could be a fearsome adversary if she had the element of surprise on her side—but she only weighed three pounds.

  Galvanized into action, Graf and I threw on robes and hurried into the hallway to peer down the stairs. Sweetie didn’t wait for us. She took the steps four at time, landing at the bottom in a dead scramble for the kitchen.

  Hysterical sobbing came from there, and Graf and I ran. Along the way he picked up a heavy candlestick, and I clutched one of my beautiful spike heels.

  Pale and shaken, Federico joined us. “Jovan is missing,” he whispered.

  But not for long. We found her in the kitchen hunkered in a corner and crying. She was so terrified she fought Federico when he captured her in his arms to console her.

  “She’s afraid,” Graf said, looking around. Nothing in the kitchen was out of place except for a platter that was smashed on the floor. I examined the broken pieces and realized it had been valuable, a handmade piece that was signed by the artist.

  As Federico and Graf lifted Jovan from the floor and into a chair, I gathered the large pieces of clay and swept up the sharp shards. Sweetie patrolled the kitchen, whining at the sink and clawing at the cabinet door.

  I opened the cabinet, but only neat rows of cleaning supplies were in evidence. I had no idea what was wrong with Sweetie Pie. She kept nosing the cabinet like a rib eye had been dropped there, but I couldn’t find a thing.

  Tinkie, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, joined us. “What’s going on? I thought I heard a scream and a crash.”

  Jovan whimpered before she answered. “There was a woman, here in the kitchen. A stranger.” She was shaking so violently that her teeth chattered. Her pale blue eyes were glassy with shock.

  Federico put his arms around her and held her. “You’re safe,” he said, but he looked around the kitchen as if he expected to see the intruder hiding in a corner. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was looking for his dead wife. A chill swept over my body at the thought.

  “What did she look like?” Tinkie asked gently. She took a seat at the table and patted Jovan’s hand. “Can you tell us? Then we’ll find her.”

  “She had on a red dressing gown.” Jovan inhaled with a shudder. “She was standing right there, at the sink, and she turned to face me.” Tears ran down her cheeks and she choked back a sob.

  “Jovan, darling, take a deep breath.” Federico rubbed her arms and kissed her head as he did his best to give her comfort. “You’re safe now. We’re all here with you.”

  She inhaled deeply and continued. “She was so beautiful, at first. I thought she was an actress I hadn’t met yet, someone dark and exotic and beautiful.” Her eyes welled with tears again. “But then she glared at me. Her eyes were dark and they burned like hot coals.” She sobbed in earnest. “It was awful. She looked at me with such hatred, and then she lunged at me and said, ‘Get out! Get out of my house before you die!’ ” She closed her eyes. “She said we were all going to die.”

  Even though we were all in the kitchen with the lights on, I edged closer to Graf. Tinkie, on the other hand, took practical action and went to check the door that led to the outside. It was locked. From the inside.

  “Which way did she go?” Tinkie asked. “Did anyone else see her?”

  We all shook our heads.

  Jovan wiped her tears away. “I don’t know. That platter shot off the counter and smashed. I was startled and glanced at the broken dish. When I looked up, she was gone.”

  Federico rubbed the right side of his face. “That platter was made for Carlita by Pablo Rameri
z.”

  “The famous artist?” Tinkie knew exactly who he was.

  “Carlita sometimes modeled for him. He adored her. She valued that platter highly.”

  Jovan turned so that she could look at him. Her eyes widened. “She broke it so we couldn’t use it. She is haunting this house, like everyone says. She hates us so much she’d destroy a work of art to keep us from using it.” She burst into wild tears.

  “I’ll check the front door and the windows,” Graf volunteered.

  “Take Sweetie with you.” My hound was pacing the kitchen. When she went with Graf, Chablis followed.

  “Jovan,” I said, “are you sure you haven’t seen this woman before?” I refused to name her Carlita. If the idea that Federico’s dead wife was out to get us circulated through the film crew, we would shut down.

  Jovan covered her eyes. “The first night I came here. When someone pushed me down the stairs. I saw her upstairs. I think she must have pushed me.”

  “You’re positive it was the same woman?” I’d resisted believing that a ghost could harm any of us—or even that a ghost was involved. But Jovan had evidence.

  She nodded. “I’m sure of it now. It was her. The same woman I saw on the second floor. The one who pushed me and could have killed me. And she said we’re going to die.”

  I spoke before I thought. “She has to be in the house somewhere.”

  My matter-of-fact tone made Jovan look at me. “She doesn’t have to be here. If she’s a ghost, she can come and go as she pleases.”

  “Ghosts can’t push humans.” When everyone turned to look at me, I realized I’d spoken with authority. “I mean, ghosts aren’t supposed to be able to manipulate matter.” In all of the time I’d spent with Jitty, the best she could muster was a breeze.

  “Evil spirits have powers,” Jovan said in a whisper. “Her eyes burned like hot coals. She was evil. I know she was. I know it.” She turned her face into Federico’s pajama top and cried.

  Tinkie looked at me. “Do you believe this?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I don’t know.” I’d seen a woman in red. She’d lured me to the beach where I’d been attacked and nearly drowned. But I wasn’t certain I believed this entity could push Jovan down the stairs or fling a platter. I needed to consult with Jitty, but she was being coy and evasive.

  “Let’s go back to our rooms,” Federico said as he assisted Jovan to her feet. “Perhaps we should go to the hospital and get you checked out. Maybe the doctor can prescribe a stronger sedative.”

  “No, no, I’m fine. I have my big scene with Graf and Sarah Booth tomorrow. I don’t want to see a doctor.” She swayed on her feet and Federico steadied her.

  It was true that Jovan was slated for the big confrontation scene between Matty and the sister-in-law about the will. Ned, representing Matty, gets his first clue that he doesn’t know everything about the woman he’s become embroiled with. It was going to be Jovan’s finest moment in the film, and if she didn’t get some rest, she was going to look awful.

  “I’ll check with Graf and make sure the house is locked up,” I said.

  “Me, too.” Tinkie stood up beside me.

  “You can’t lock out a ghost,” Jovan said, blinking back a fresh round of tears. “Be careful, because if you see her, she’s going to try to hurt you, too.”

  I took Jovan’s limp hand. “Please don’t tell anyone about this until we have a chance to investigate.”

  She looked at me as if I were dense.

  “Jovan, this film is already plagued with rumors about curses and other problems. If this story gets out among the cast and crew, it could cause a lot of problems.”

  “She’s right,” Federico said. “This kind of story will add fuel to a dangerous fire.”

  “And none of you care that I was nearly frightened to death.” Jovan stepped away from Federico, the glint of battle in her eyes.

  “It isn’t that,” I assured her. “Tinkie and Graf and I will search the house from top to bottom. We’ll do everything we can. If this woman is real, we’ll find her.”

  “And if she isn’t?” Jovan challenged.

  “I don’t know what we can do about an angry ghost.”

  “We can get out of this house.” Jovan stalked across the room and paused in the doorway. “She’s already injured me. Next time, she may break my neck.”

  She had a point, but I had a suggestion. “I think none of us should wander around the house alone. We can stay in teams.”

  “You think that will stop her? She can hurt two of us as easily as one. I don’t like living in a place that’s dangerous.”

  My response was cut short when Graf returned, a worried look on his face. “All of the doors are locked from the inside. The downstairs windows are also locked.”

  “Then we need to conduct a search.” Tinkie was all business. “We’ll put an end to this foolishness once and for all.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Once the door to Federico’s rooms was closed, I turned to Graf and Tinkie. “Let’s take this place apart.”

  “What have you figured out?” Tinkie asked. We’d only been partners for a year, but she knew me.

  “I’m beginning to find it strange that Carlita’s ghost—or whoever this apparition is—has appeared only to women.” I turned to Graf. “Have you seen it?”

  “Not even a flicker of strange light.” He looked around the foyer and up the staircase. “Now that you point it out, it is odd that the ghost would appear only to you and Jovan.”

  Tinkie gave me a foxy look. “Unless there’s some special attraction between Sarah Booth and the spirit world.”

  For one brief instant, I wondered if she’d somehow learned about Jitty. But that was impossible. Jitty refused to show herself to anyone but me. As she explained it, she was my personal haint and no one else could see her.

  So if Carlita’s ghost was in the house, why was she haunting two actresses? Jovan I could understand—because she was Federico’s lover, and the jealousy card would play perfectly there.

  But why me? I had no interest in Federico, except as a director and a friend. I had no history in Hollywood, no past sins to be punished for.

  Except for my love of a married man.

  And with that the door I’d shut so carefully in my mind burst open and Coleman stepped into my head with such force that I stepped back from my friends. I wasn’t over him. Not yet.

  “What’s wrong?” Tinkie asked.

  I stammered, but I managed to say, “I’m trying to figure this out, and I keep going in circles. It’s making me dizzy.” Even as I talked, my brain was whirling. Was it possible Carlita’s ghost meant to punish women who came between married couples? But Federico was single. Had been since Carlita’s death more than a decade ago. Why punish him now?

  “Sarah Booth, we should start searching.” Tinkie put her hand on my shoulder to pull me back from my thoughts. “You don’t look well.”

  “No, I’m good.” I found a smile of encouragement. “You and Graf take the dogs and begin the search. I want to call Millie.”

  Tinkie checked her watch. “This is probably a good time to call her. She’s up.”

  I glanced at her wrist. Five A.M. would be good. I’d catch Millie before the crowds flocked into the café.

  “Sarah Booth, I don’t want to leave you alone,” Graf said. “We agreed to work in teams.”

  I hadn’t given it a thought until he said it, but I gave him a hug. “Leave Sweetie with me. She’ll protect me. And I’m going to stay right here where cell phone reception is the best in the house.”

  “Sweetie would give her life for you.” Graf kissed my forehead and then my cheek. “Dogs have a sense about ghosts, or so I’ve heard.” He turned his affections to my hound and gave her ears a rumple. “Yell if you need us.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I will. Start upstairs, and I’ll sit here near the staircase. If anyone tries to sneak out this way, I’ll scream like a banshee.”

&nb
sp; “We need those floor plans of this house,” Tinkie grumbled as she and Graf climbed the stairs.

  She was right, but even if we went and camped at the architect’s office, there was no way he’d appear for several hours.

  I placed the call to Millie and she answered on the third ring. “I was going to call you this morning,” she said. “I found some interesting things in my research.”

  “We can stand some help here.”

  “Let me get a cup of coffee,” she said, “and then we’ll talk.”

  Across the long air waves, I heard the familiar clatter of Millie’s Bunn coffeemaker. I could visualize her, already dressed, apron tied on her waist. It was early morning, yet she’d have her hair done and makeup on. Millie had survived loss, as I had, yet she’d always held on to who she was and the life she loved.

  “I’m back,” she said. “And I’m not certain exactly what I’ve found, but I think you need to know it.”

  “Shoot,” I said.

  “You actually owe this one to Tinkie, but she won’t take credit for it.”

  I gripped the phone tighter. Once my gal friends started disclaiming the credit for something, I knew it was going to be good.

  “Millie, quit stalling or I’ll tell Robert Redford that you think he can’t direct!”

  “Okay, okay, don’t you dare say a derogatory word about Robert Redford. So check this out. Back in the eighties, Federico was involved with two large-budget films that were complete disasters. The only way he recovered his career was that an outside investor threw some money in to cover some of the debts.”

  “Who was that investor?” Money was always a good motive for revenge. If Federico had, willingly or not, screwed someone out of millions, that would be excellent cause for that person to try to wreck the current film.