Why did Mack and his sister want to live in this monstrosity? Built in the late 1800s, the house was more museum piece than home. The exterior walls and nearby fences were constructed of gray stone from a nearby quarry, according to what she’d read. The Feeney family had shipped in a variety of woods from around the world for the interior.
Stacey crossed toward the door which the map labeled the parlor. She was supposed to meet Mack at 8:30, five minutes from now. She paused, staring at the oak door with its polished brass door knob. Was he already inside?
An antique table with a crystal vase sat across from the door. The vase held a colorful bouquet of flowers. She touched one with the tip of her finger, surprised to discover they were real.
“You shouldn’t touch things.”
She jumped and whirled around to find a young man watching her from the end of the hall. Lank black hair fell to his shoulders. Thin and wiry, he moved toward her with the grace of a feral cat, despite heavy black boots. His brown eyes were dull, his skin very white. Earrings lined both ears and tattoos were scattered along his arms like spiders below a tight black t-shirt. She recognized him as the youth Peg had ordered to move her car.
“They’ll fire you if you break any thing,” he added.
Stacey jammed her hands in her pockets. “You’re Joe, right? Thanks for moving my car. I’m Stacey Moreno. I just got hired.”
“I know. My mom’s the housekeeper and does the cooking. You seen her? She’s not in the kitchen.”
“I saw her at breakfast. Her biscuits were heavenly.” She smiled at the lanky boy. “She’s a great cook.”
His unfriendly expression didn’t change. “Have you seen Del?”
“Who’s Del?”
“Old man trouble. Supposed to fix things, but all I see him do is cause problems.” He didn’t wait for a reply. He slinked past her and out the front door.
What an odd bunch. Stacey approached the parlor door and pushed it open. She found Mack sitting behind an antique wooden desk, but he didn’t look up. He was gazing at a small instrument in his right hand while his left thumb worked frantically. Beside him, a light- haired boy watched, eyes transfixed.
“Oh, no,” the boy cried. “He got you. That’s your last shot.”
Mack laughed. The pleasant sound sent a buzz through her system. She liked hearing the gentle rumble of his laughter.
“Darn!” Mack said, shaking his head. He glanced up, saw Stacey and handed the boy the instrument. “I’ll get him next time, Kenny.”
“That’s still not as many total points as I have.”
“Bring it next time. I can do better.” Mack mussed his hair and pointed at the door. “Now get going, buddy. I have to work.”
“I better find Joe,” the boy said with a glum expression.
“He just went out the front door, looking for his mom,” Stacey offered. “Hi, I’m Stacey Moreno.”
“This is Kenny Delaney.” Mack placed a hand on the boy’s striped t-shirt. “He’s a whiz at computer games, but I can beat him sometimes.” He smiled as the boy turned and raced out the door.
Stacey had not moved beyond the entryway and Mack waved her inside. “Come in. Are you always this timid?”
How could he think that after their initial meeting? Her face burned at the thought as she stepped toward him. “I’ve been told I talk too much when I get nervous.” She grimaced at the silly sound of her words. When would she stop sounding like such a goofball?
“Are you finding your way around?”
“Yes. This is quite a house.” She glanced around the room. It wasn’t as big as the room across the hall where Peg had interviewed her. The pamphlet called it a parlor, but the room had been converted to an office. Tall mahogany bookcases dominated the area behind Mack’s desk and the other inside wall was lined with filing cabinets and stacks of sagging cardboard boxes. Antique wing chairs that straddled the edges of a royal blue and gold rug were piled with manila folders. Even the space under tall windows that faced the side and front verandas held more boxes. The only neat area was a small writing desk near the front windows. It held a laptop and had a secretary chair beside it.
“This is where we’ll be working,” he said, gesturing around the room.
She nodded, stifling her true feelings. Were those boxes and folders what she was supposed to organize? How long would that take?
“That’s your desk and laptop, but the computer is not to leave this room. It’s brand new, state of the art, but it has no games and Peg and I have the only internet connections in our rooms. Don’t think you’re free to remove it from that spot or go online with it.”
She walked toward the desk with a lump in her throat. His negative warnings didn’t matter. She was more thrilled with the whole idea. A new job! Her own workstation! She realized he was waiting for her to answer him. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t do that.”
His lips drew together in a tight straight line. “That’s what your predecessor said, but her computer ended up as a smoking piece of plastic because she took it to her room.”
Stacey winced. Naturally Helen would assume she could take work supplies anywhere. At least his comments explained why Helen’s email correspondence was so erratic.
Behind her, he continued. “We’ll be working in here and nothing is ever to leave this room, understand?”
After his playful attitude with the boy, he sounded so stern Stacey couldn’t help but attempt to lighten up the conversation. “So where is the ghost? It didn’t visit me last night.”
His look was hard, but slowly it dissolved as a smile creased his features and the blue eyes lit up. “I hope I didn’t scare you. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”
Her breath caught. Such a pleasant smile and such captivating eyes. Stacey felt the blood rush to her face. She touched her hand to her warm cheek, as though that might hide the flush she knew was spreading.
“Let’s get started,” he said, shoving aside folders on a visitor chair beside his desk.
He gestured for her to sit down. “Tell me how much you know about Lily.”
After their talk, she’d tried to remember her, but only came up with one thing. “She was on a TV sitcom for a couple of years, playing an older sister.”
“Right! She had two movie parts plus some television credits. What about her death?”
“Her body was found on a hillside in Hollywood.”
His nod was approving. “Her body was dismembered and positioned like all of Greenlee’s killings. His other victims were prostitutes or runaways who frequented Hollywood Boulevard, and witnesses described a man resembling him near the spot where Lily’s body was found. Police didn’t have enough evidence to try him for her murder, but because it was so similar, she’s considered one of his victims.”
“Why didn’t he protest until that final interview? He admitted killing the others, right?”
“He said he preferred the title Hollywood Stalker to the Hooker Killer, which was what he’d been dubbed before Lily. He claimed her death was a copycat, but police closed her case when he was arrested. During the appeals process, I became friends with the LA detective who took the original call on Lily’s case. Name of John Scotti. He also had doubts about Greenlee. John had to turn the case over to the Stalker task force so he never fully investigated it, but he said my interview with Greenlee convinced him he was right.” He paused and rubbed his hands together.
She was surprised to see he had some movement in his right hand and realized she was staring at him and again he was waiting for her to answer. “How did you get involved?”
“John and I got to talking when I started my research on Lily. He was retired too, so we decided to pursue it together. I gathered information on her personal life and he went through the old police records. He was hoping the book would get some interest and get the case re-opened. Unfortunately he died of a heart attack before we got very far.”
Her gaze traveled to the sagging piles of boxes. “All of this cam
e from one murder case?”
He blew out air in a heavy sigh. “That’s the problem. These files are from all his cases. His wife said he wanted me to have them. I might someday write a book about John so eventually I will need them sorted. For now I want you to look through the files and separate any Feeney information. John wasn’t organized so notes could be anywhere. My former assistant went through those files.” He pointed at two open boxes containing folders beside her desk.
That was all Helen had accomplished in six months? This job could go on forever! Stacey fought to hide her dismay, but he didn’t appear to notice.
“If Helen found information on Lily, she was supposed to date it and put it into a separate file. Instead she decided to also type up John’s written notes on Lily. She claimed she was creating a timeline around the investigation, but now the notes she did find are missing. Of course the timeline she claimed to be creating and all her typed information was destroyed when her computer burned. She’d promised to keep everything on a flash drive for me, but I’ve never found it—if she even did it.”
Mack sighed and she could feel the vibration of his frustration. The fire had taken a toll on his work, and he probably blamed Helen for the loss since she had taken the computer.
Stacey attempted a smile. “If you’re worried about trusting me…”
His eyes shot to her, blue spheres, as cold as ice. “I don’t trust anyone. The sooner you learn that, the better we’ll get along.”
Stacey licked her dry lips, uncertain what to say. “Why…why wouldn’t you trust me?”
His gaze pinned her to the back of the chair, blazing with something she couldn’t define. “I spent years as a journalist. I figure everyone has something to hide.”
Her heart skipped. She felt as though he could see into her brain and discover her connection to Helen.
Then a corner of his lips twitched into a smile. “But then, you’re probably the only person in the world who couldn’t hide anything. Your face is like reading a lie detector readout. It turns bright red every time you get flustered.”
Stacey brushed her hand across her cheek. It was burning right now, which meant it was probably the color of a valentine.
“I’m sorry if I sound like an evil tyrant,” he continued, his face softening. “Peg had to fire my first assistant and the second just left. Now this thing with Helen Stanton…”
There had been other assistants before Helen? “Yikes, and you’ve hired me?”
“What does that mean?”
She wiggled her nose, making a face. “I guess that’s my secret. Mom calls me a jinx. My first employer was shut down by the city. My second job lasted three months before I got laid off and my last employer closed after 93 years in business.”
His gaze grew so intense that for an instant she feared he might fire her on the spot. Then he inhaled sharply and lurched to his feet. Favoring his right leg, he limped toward the front windows that looked out on the veranda. “As long as you do your work, you’ll be fine. Since I’m paying you above normal wages I expect you to work hard and put in long hours.”
“No problem. But I’ll need some time off…”
He ran his hand through his hair in an abrupt gesture of dismay as she rushed to explain.
“I didn’t know I’d get this job…so I need to go into town for…well…personal things. And I’ve asked my mother to send more clothes so I’ll need to pick them up tomorrow. Plus, my car needs to be fixed.” She stopped. She was rambling.
“Have Del look at your car. I’ve lost so much time due to the fire and this death…” He sounded so uncaring. Was that really the way he was? No. She remembered him with the boy, Kenny. And he wore his wedding ring. He must still love his wife.
Before she could reply, Mack held up his hand. “Okay. Take the time you need. Let’s get started. I’m going to give you a combination of dictation and written notes. One warning—my writing is awful since I’m learning to use my left hand.”
“You haven’t tried typing with your left hand or the software that does dictation?”
“If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t need you, would I?”
Stupid, stupid. It wasn’t her place to question his motives. And it wasn’t like she was worried about the work. She’d always been a fast typist. As for organizing the boxes, heck, Helen once teased her that she was a librarian at heart.
“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. I use dictation because one-handed typing slows my thinking process, and I found too many mistakes with voice software. Now, how about a test?”
“A test?” Her throat constricted as her breathing quickened in panic. Uh Oh!
“Tell me what you found out about the house?”
Stacey felt her body relax in relief. Finally something she knew! She began reciting the facts from the brochures. “The room across the hall was the drawing room and there was a room behind it that was a gentleman’s club room or library but now it’s one big space?”
A smile tipped the corner of his mouth as he nodded at her. “The previous owners knocked out the walls to make it a lounge for their guests. They removed the bookcases, which we installed here and upstairs in my personal study. I like the old way better, and I may have the original walls re-constructed. They modernized the interior, but we’re debating how to regain Redfern Manor’s former charm. Peg’s scouring antique shops and we found some of the old furnishings in storage, which is why the house has a split personality at the moment.”
“I’ll bet that screws with the ghosts’ psyches.”
His full lips pressed together and for an instant Stacey feared she’d angered him.
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I think you’re obsessed with ghosts. Come on, let’s go look at Lily’s room.”
Chapter Three
Stacey climbed the stairs to the third floor in front of Mack, aware of his halting progress due to his bad right leg. She stepped onto the landing and gave a low whistle. Here the house’s split personality was in full view. A threadbare strip of rug ran the length of the hall though the walls were painted a cheery yellow. Through one door she could see blond furniture that looked straight out of a 50s movie set. She started to turn back toward Mack, but suddenly sensed movement at the back of the house where a shaft of sunlight spotlighted an antique rocker. Was it moving? No. But as she stared at it, she thought she glimpsed a shadow flutter in the light.
Was someone up here? Hadn’t Mack unlocked the door to the stairs from a key ring in his pocket? She started to ask him, but stopped. No use continuing to push that ghost scenario.
“This was Lily’s room.” He pointed toward the room with the dated furniture.
She stepped to the doorway to gaze inside. A bedside table with a square lamp sat beside a twin bed with a faded quilt on top. The dresser was low and long with old movie magazines spread out on top. The large mirror had the name “Lily” written in red nail polish along one lower edge.
“This is her old furniture,” he said, touching the dresser with a long finger. “According to her cousins she bought it at a second hand store because it reminded her of Marilyn Monroe. We also found some of her belongings in a trunk in the coach house.”
Stacey turned away to hide her grimace. What a sad tribute to the girl who wanted to go to Hollywood. The room was like a museum display.
There wasn’t much else to see. The back end of the house contained two empty bedrooms with modern bathrooms. Then he opened the door to a long room that extended the width of the house. The pamphlet labeled it the playroom and it showed its age. The wood paneled walls were badly scuffed and one section appeared to be defaced with childish carvings. An archway led into the octagonal turret and Stacey gasped in awe. The day was clear and through the windows she could see neighboring islands and beyond them, all the way to the Olympic Mountains on the western Washington Peninsula. Her fingers itched for her pencils and a sketchpad. Heck, she’d call her mother for her painting supplies.
Mack di
dn’t appear to notice her reaction. “My study is just below this room. On mornings when I don’t come down to the parlor, that’s where I’ll be.”
“Admiring the view?” she teased.
He turned to her, and she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. His handsome face might have been carved in granite. “I’ll tell you this once. Don’t interrupt me when I’m in there. That room is off limits.”
She lowered her head. Was he telling her that because he was worried she’d turn up naked in his room again? Her face flamed. “What if I need to reach you?”
“I have an intercom set up between my office and the parlor.”
“What about up here, can I come…?”
He was already shaking his head, much to her dismay. “The doors to the stairs are kept locked. This was Lily’s area. I want to keep it that way for now.”
He stepped toward the wood paneled wall with its engravings. A long finger ran over one of the words, and as she approached, Stacey realized the carvings were actually names. “Lily” was carved in script letters. A shiver ran down Stacey’s spine as he traced it as though touching a sacred object.
“Wow,” she said without thinking. “Can you imagine her up here by herself in this huge old house with just her grandmother for company?” She stared out the window, at the mountains in the distance. “Think about what she must have thought when she saw those peaks in the distance and the ferry boats crossing the water. And all she wanted was to get to Hollywood.”
“Yes,” he said in a low, urgent voice. “You’re exactly right. Can you identify with that? With how Lily might have felt, wanting to get out on her own? To get away?”
Shadows from the Past Page 3