While the unknown spirit remained blurred in its appearance, its message was distinct and sharp. “Forget about her!” This time, the ghost’s voice rattled the windows of the guesthouse. Archie whimpered. Emma stepped back, nearly falling onto the painting. “She’s dead, and nothing you can do will change that.”
Bracing a hand against the wall, Emma straightened herself and stood her ground, letting the apparition know she would not be bullied. “She needs to cross over. You have, haven’t you? So why not let her do the same? Let her rest in peace.”
The ghost floated away. When it reached the door, it swirled in a gust and swooped down on Emma and the painting again. More papers flew through the air. When the spirit was once again nose to nose with Emma, it snapped, “It’s the living, not the girl, who need peace.”
Emma was about to say something when her cell phone, which was sitting on the desk, rang. She inched over to it, afraid to leave the painting lest the ghost try to damage it. She grabbed the phone and quickly resumed her place wedged between the painting and the ghost. “Hello.”
“Emma? This is Worth Manning. I was told you were looking for me.”
“Why, Senator, what a surprise.” Emma kept a wary eye on the ghost as she spoke. The spirit, done with trying to scare Emma, drifted around the room, restless and agitated. Granny stayed by Archie.
“A nice one, I hope.” He chuckled, his deep voice resonating over the phone line.
Emma wondered how he’d gotten her number. She knew Jackie would never give out her private line. It had to have been George. “Yes, of course, a nice surprise. You must have heard from my assistant.”
“Yes, she called my office and left a message that you wanted to set up an appointment.” There was a slight pause on his end. “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked George for your number.”
“Did George also tell you what it was about?” As the visiting ghost disappeared into thin air, Emma sighed with relief.
Granny cooed to Archie, “The big bad ghost is gone, little fella. Come on out.”
Manning chuckled. “He said something about Tessa North and ghosts. Is that correct?”
“Yes, it is. Do you remember her?”
“It was a long time ago, but I do recall a young woman by that name.”
Emma wasn’t surprised by his admission. Sure the three men had by now met and decided upon a mutual story, it seemed the senator had been chosen as the one to spoonfeed it to her. She left her post by the painting and sat down at her desk. “Do you have time to meet with me tomorrow, Senator?”
“How about now? I’m right in front of your parent’s home.”
This she hadn’t expected, and it caught her off-guard.
“Emma, you there?”
A small cough escaped her lips. “Yes, Senator. Sorry. Frog in my throat.” She stood up. “You’re here? Right now?”
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had business earlier in Pasadena so thought I’d swing by before going home. I tried the doorbell, but no one answered.”
“I’m out back, in the guesthouse. Give me a minute and I’ll come to the front door.”
After disconnecting the call, Emma looked at the painting. She was worried the ghost would come back and try to damage it, and Granny couldn’t protect it like she could. Finally, she decided to slip it back into its shipping box and lay it flat on the floor. That way, it couldn’t fall if the ghost decided to cause a small tornado.
When she opened the front door of the house, Worth Manning stood on the other side. Of the three men—George, Paul, and himself—he’d been the most elegant in his appearance. At just over eighty years old, he still stood over six feet tall, with ramroad posture only slightly bent by age. His hair was white as snow and worn back away from his angular face, which was furrowed with wrinkles. Unlike George’s once-beefy build, Worth was slender with wide, strong shoulders. It looked to Emma like the man still worked out to keep his physique.
Archie, at Emma’s side, barked at the stranger. “Hush, Archie,” Emma commanded.
Worth Manning looked Emma up and down with a predatory eye, taking in her form-fitting exercise clothes. For the second time in less than an hour, she wished she’d worn something less revealing, but this time for a different reason.
Dressed in dark slacks, a dress shirt, and sports jacket, the former senator looked confident and collected. Emma looked beyond him to where his black Mercedes was parked at the curb under a streetlight. He appeared to be alone. The drizzle that had fallen most of the day appeared to have stopped.
“Please come in, Senator.”
As Emma stepped aside, Worth Manning entered the Miller residence and followed Emma and Archie into the formal living room.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked, indicating for him to sit anywhere he’d like.
“I’m fine, Emma. Thank you.” Manning lowered himself into an upholstered chair with a high back and crossed one long leg over the other. Archie sniffed at the shoe remaining on the carpet. Manning reached down and let the animal nose his hand before moving to scratch the dog behind his ear. Archie’s tail wagged.
“Please excuse me a moment,” Emma said. When she returned, she had on the cardigan sweater her mother kept in the kitchen against drafts. “Thank you for waiting. I was a bit chilly.” She took a seat on the sofa.
“Working out?”
“I was about to. Our guesthouse was converted into a home gym. I’m afraid we can’t hear the doorbell out there.”
“Then it’s a good thing I called.” He gave her a slow, assured smile—the type of smile that comes naturally to people used to being in power.
Keenly aware that coming to her home was an offensive move meant to keep her off-balance, Emma sharpened her senses and prepared herself to hold her ground. It also made her think more seriously about the three friends being behind the painting of her car.
“I was sorry to hear about Mrs. Manning. My mother told me she passed away last fall.”
“Thank you, Emma. Nasty stroke. We never saw it coming. Fortunately, Linda did not linger.” Manning looked around. “Where is your charming mother?”
“She and my equally charming father are on a cruise.”
The comment netted her a smirk. Emma felt awkward. She’d met Worth Manning many times while married to Grant, but she’d never spent time alone with him. And now she was about to ask him some uncomfortable and very personal questions. Deciding she might never get the same opportunity, she met the situation head-on.
“As George might have told you, Senator, I came across the name Tessa North doing some research for my show.”
“Something about a ghost on Catalina Island, that correct?”
“Yes. Supposedly Tessa’s ghost haunts Catalina. Seems she might have died there some forty years ago.”
As the room started growing cooler, Emma pulled the sweater closer. Archie moved away from the senator and curled up in a corner of the room. Glancing over, Emma spotted Granny. She was glad Granny had retreated to a far corner, taking the coldness with her. From there, she could hear and see everything without making the immediate air around the living chilly.
Emma returned her attention to the senator. “You said you remember her.”
“Vaguely, yes.”
“I understand some of you saw each other socially—that there were several men, including you and George, who hung around a specific group of young actresses back then.”
“Did the ghost tell you that, Emma?” The question was gift-wrapped in sarcasm and tied with a wink.
“No, the ghost did not, Senator.” Emma’s words were pointed. “But others remember.”
A small sardonic smile crossed his lips. “There were always willing young actresses—one of the perks of the business, both show business and politics.”
Emma fixed him with a stern, no-nonsense look. “I’m not judging you, Senator, or anyone. I just want to know what you remember about Tessa.”
Manning leaned his head against the bac
k of the chair and closed his eyes. “Tessa, Tessa, Tessa.” The words came out like a mantra.
“I don’t like this man, Emma,” Granny whispered to her as if Manning might overhear. “And I don’t like that you’re here alone with him.”
While Manning was lost in contemplation, Emma glanced over at the corner and shook her head a little, trying to convey to Granny that she’d be fine.
“As I recall,” Manning began, opening his eyes and looking at Emma, “Tessa was a very sweet thing. Blond, I believe. Whatever became of her, I have no idea. I remember hearing that she’d returned home.”
“Did you have an affair with her?”
“Yes, I did. It was fun but short-lived.”
The blunt honesty surprised her, and her reaction was noticed by Manning.
“Don’t look so shocked by my confession, Emma. Especially since you already knew the answer before you asked the question.” He uncrossed his leg and leaned forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, his hands clasped casually between them. “My wife is dead. I’m no longer in the Senate, and the fling was over more than forty years ago. So what’s the harm now in owning up to it?”
“Emma,” Granny whispered, moving closer with Archie on her heels. “Maybe that cranky ghost is his dead wife.”
Emma’s eyes popped open. “Of course,” she said out loud toward Granny before catching herself.
“Excuse me?” asked Manning.
Turning back to him, Emma did some quick damage control. “I meant, of course, it wouldn’t matter now about an indiscretion that took place so many years ago.”
She focused on the senator, trying not to look in Granny’s direction. The possibility that the unknown ghost might be Linda Manning buzzed through her nervous system like a nest of disturbed hornets, making her antsy to make contact with the spirit again.
“But I’m not concerned about that, Senator. I just want to know what you remember about Tessa North, such as when was the last time you might have seen her.”
Manning laughed and straightened up. “Forty years ago. That exact enough for you?”
“He knows something, Emma.” Granny moved toward Worth Manning. “I just know it.”
As Granny drifted in the direction of Manning, Archie followed. Manning put his hand down, inviting the dog to enjoy another scratch, but as soon as the dog was within reach, Granny spun and drifted off in another direction, with the animal following. She paced the room, oblivious to the zigzag motions Archie made while tracking her across the carpet.
“What’s wrong with your dog?” asked Manning.
“Archie,” Emma called to the animal. “Stop that and come here.” Archie stopped, puzzled by the decision before him—follow Granny or listen to Emma. In the end, the confused animal went to the person who fed him. He trotted over to Emma and settled at her feet, knowing he wasn’t allowed on the living room sofa, just the one in the den.
“Don’t mind him,” Emma said, reaching down to pat the dog. “It’s a silly game he plays with my father.”
Worth Manning looked at his watch, then at Emma, giving her a wide smile. “Why don’t you change and let me take you to dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, of course. One of my favorite restaurants is here in Pasadena, and I happen to have a reservation for eight o’clock. We can discuss Tessa North further over good food and fine wine.” Once again, Manning’s eyes scanned Emma’s body.
Emma’s first reaction was to wrap the cardigan sweater around herself several times and padlock it, but she resisted, knowing he would take pleasure in her discomfort.
Granny zoomed in close. “No, Emma.”
“Thank you, Senator,” Emma said. “That’s a lovely offer.”
“I forbid you.” Granny stomped her booted foot silently on the carpet. Archie stood up, his ears alert, his eyes wide.
Emma fought the urge to snap off a few choice words in Granny’s direction. Instead, she smiled sweetly at Manning. “But I’m afraid I’ve already made plans for the evening.”
Emma glanced at the antique clock on the mantle across from the sofa. “I just have a few more questions, but I’ll make sure you get to your dinner reservation on time.”
“She actually forbade me. Can you believe it?”
On the other end of the phone line, Phil Bowers laughed with gusto. “You tell Granny that next season, I’m taking her to see a Chargers game in person. Best seats in the house.”
“Very funny.”
“You can come along, too, if you like, Fancy Pants. Unless, of course, Granny forbids it.” He laughed again.
Emma squinted in annoyance at the phone, giving Phil an evil eye he couldn’t see. “I’m glad you’re so amused.”
“Hell, this is priceless.” He paused, and Emma could hear him taking a deep breath. “But seriously, Emma, I’m rather concerned about you.”
“Because some old codger hit on me?”
“Let me remind you that that old codger could be involved in a murder—or the cover-up of a murder, at the very least. And I think you’re right about his little visit. No doubt the three Musketeers got together and planned how you were to be handled. And who better to do the handling than a suave, seasoned politician?”
“Well, Mr. Bowers, I did not allow myself to be manipulated.”
“That’s my girl. But while I’m proud of you, I’m also more concerned. From what you’ve told me so far, especially about Tessa’s things being cleaned out of her apartment and someone sending her roomies a postcard, forty years ago Tessa’s death was important enough to hide. It could still be important to some folks to keep it hidden. The more you go nosing around, the more danger you could find yourself in. Remember what happened in Julian last year? Someone actually tried to kill you…twice.”
Emma was tucked into bed. She’d been reading when Phil called, as he almost always did, to tell her good night. After Worth Manning left, she’d gone back to the guesthouse to pick up the scattered papers and shut it down for the night. She looked at the treadmill, then decided talking to Manning had been a workout enough. She was pooped. The mystery ghost had not made another appearance, even though Emma had called out to her several times, even trying the name Linda Manning to see if that got the spirit’s attention. Before locking up, she put the painting, still in its box, in a closet for safekeeping.
Granny followed Emma to the guesthouse, hanging around protectively until she was positive Worth Manning was gone and stayed gone, though Emma wasn’t sure what the ornery ghost could have done had Manning made a physical move on her. In the guesthouse, Granny voiced her doubt about going to Catalina.
“What if that snake comes back?” she’d argued with Emma. “It might be more than just painting the side of that fancy wagon of yours.”
“First of all, we don’t know if the spraypainting had anything to do with Worth Manning.” Emma arranged some of the disrupted papers on her desk and placed a stapler on top to make sure they stayed put. “And what would you be able to do if he did come back?”
Emma could see that Granny was going over the options in her head and not coming up with much. “I would tell Milo,” she’d finally said with a determined jerk of her chin. “He’d get help. It worked before.”
“And by the time he got here, I’d be done for. That is, if that was the senator’s intent.” Emma stopped fiddling with the stuff on her desk. “Granny, you’re needed in Catalina tomorrow to help Milo with Tessa. And don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’m going straight to bed after I finish here. And look, you’re fading by the second. You need to rest yourself.”
“The dead don’t need no rest. That’s why it’s called eternal sleep.”
“Well, then you need to recharge your batteries.”
It was true. Granny’s physical presence was fast growing faint. “I’d feel a lot better, Emma, if you had a gun in the house. In my day, we’d never be without a rifle.”
“I don’t need a gun, Granny. I’ll make sure I set
the alarm, and besides, I have Archie.” They both looked down at the little black dog curled up on the loveseat. As they watched, Archie twitched and let out a series of loud snores.
“You need a gun,” Granny said with sturdy punctuation. “Better yet, I wish Phil was here.”
“But he’s not, Granny. And I don’t need him here. I’ll be fine.”
Granny’s image drifted off like mist on a breeze. “Yep, Phil and his gun. That’s the ticket.”
Emma didn’t feel particularly threatened by Worth Manning, but she was wary of him. Like the snake Granny thought he was, he had slithered through her final questions slow and steady, all the time eyeing her as if she were an unsuspecting field mouse.
“Grant used to tell me how George and his buddies would go over to Catalina to fish and drink, often with female company.”
Manning had offered a slick smile. “That we did.”
“Did you go on your boat?” Emma asked, remembering that Denise had told her that Worth had owned a boat.
“Sometimes. If there were a lot of us, we’d take two boats.”
“Did you ever take Tessa over on your boat?”
“She might have gone over with me and the others. Hard to remember, Emma. It was a long time ago. But usually we guys took the boat and the ladies joined us later.”
His answer jived with what Denise Dowd had said, that the women joined the men on the island.
“What are you driving at, Emma?”
The senator’s voice was starting to take on an air of impatience, alerting her that she was losing his attention. She decided to jump in with both feet instead of just dipping a toe.
“Senator, Tessa is still on Catalina Island. She’s waiting for someone named Curtis to return to her. Only then will she be at peace.”
Manning tilted his head back and laughed. When he stopped, he aimed dancing dark eyes at her. “You really believe that, Emma?” Before she could answer, he added with a slight shake of his head, “You were always such a smart, level-headed girl. I must say, I’m a bit disappointed.”
Ignoring his comment, Emma pressed on. “Who’s Curtis, Senator? And where can I find him?”
“There was never anyone by the name of Curtis in our group. Tessa North was a pretty girl with a lot of suitors. Just because she had a few laughs with us doesn’t mean we were the only ones she kept company with.”
Ghost in the Polka Dot Bikini: A Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery Page 14