Amanda's plan was far-fetched and relied on Everett's memory. I did what she asked and packed the ring and frat pin in my suitcase. I knew nothing about the great beyond, but guessed Amanda was tied to her personal effects and wanted to see Mr. Chase again.
"Gretchen?" Ryan asked.
"I'm sorry, I was daydreaming again."
"I asked if you wanted some pie."
I peered down at my licked clean plate. Ghost sitting built up my appetite.
"Sure, thank you."
Ryan cleared my dishes and then opened the fridge. He leaned over to pull the pie off the bottom shelf, giving me a glimpse of tight denim heaven.
Was it warm in here? Ryan caused my personal climate to change. Either that or the man generated enough heat to melt the Arctic glaciers.
Ryan cut the pie into big pieces and set them on the table for everyone. The other men filed through and selected their plates. He scooped up two for us and brought them back to the counter.
"So what are our plans for the rest of the day?" Ryan asked.
He had a small smear of whipped cream on his bottom lip. I could dab at it with my napkin or use my tongue to…
"Gretchen, I think you got too much sun today, you're blanking out on me again," he said as he swabbed his mouth with a napkin.
She who hesitated didn't get a kiss.
"I know, I think I'm sinking into vacation mode, and my mind is turning to mush."
"Glad to hear it. I've got a little work to do this afternoon, so you can take a nap on my side of the beach, after that we'll swim or float on a raft, and then plan dinner."
I'm going to gain twenty pounds, sacrifice a few layers of skin to the sun, and love every minute of it.
We finished up and traveled back to Ryan's house. He showed me his beach stash before he settled into his office to get some work done. Surprisingly, I fit in one of the wayward bikini tops. My first one ever. I took the basket filled with sunscreen, comic books, and towels to the lake's edge. I sat on a low back chair and let my toes play in the water.
The Chases' house loomed large in front of me. So much drama and sadness as a wisp of a spirit sat on the roof. Amanda waited for resolution and had put her faith in me.
Poor girl. Should I mention her to Ryan? I sounded crazy to myself; I can't imagine what the police would say. Too much for me to process, but I had to do something.
I leafed through some magazines and tried to pretend Amanda didn't stare at me from her perch.
Two hours later, Ryan settled in the sand next to me.
"Don't you look adorable," he said as he ran his finger over the bow at the back of my neck.
"Thanks, I'd like to buy you dinner tonight."
"I was going to grill some brats, just for the two of us. I'd like to get to know you better," he said as he kissed my hand.
Okay, what do I say? Bring it, buddy.
We retired to the house and cooked dinner, eventually. We didn't go all the way, but so close. I modeled all the bikini tops.
Ryan drove me back and kissed me goodnight, numerous times. I pushed him out the door and then spread out on the couch for the night. My smile stayed in place for a full hour.
Amanda visited again and swept through the windows. I offered no details on my evening's activities; I let her fill the room with luminosity and vengeful thoughts.
At seven in the morning, I woke with a start because someone rattled the front door knob. I got up and looked for a weapon. The burglar stepped in and walked toward the locked door to the family room. The key clicked, I hit the floor and pulled my blanket over my body.
Be the floor.
"Who's there?" a man asked.
Amanda, this would be a great time to become a scary ghost and frighten the bad guy.
I felt his footsteps vibrate the wood as he proceeded into the room. He paused by the side of the couch.
Please don't notice the purple lumpy ball trembling on the floor.
The blanket was yanked off my quivering body.
"What are you doing in my parents' house?" he yelled.
Aubrey, fancy meeting you here, and technically, this was your father's house. Word around town was Mean Old Bea was your mom. Wonder if he knew? But first, I'll answer his inquiry.
"I'm Gretchen Strom, and I work for your dad at Chase & Associates in Chicago. I won a raffle, regarding your daughter's school, and got the key to this place for two more days."
"Where did that clock come from?" he asked as he pointed a shaky finger at the mantel.
"It was there when I got here." No reason to bring up Ryan's kleptomaniac grandma.
Aubrey studied me and pulled out his phone.
"Don't move," he said as he backed away to the foyer.
He turned and talked on the phone. I debated about my fear level because he didn't give off the menacing Bea vibe. Plus, I put twenty bucks in the raffle jar and had earned the right to be here.
"You have to leave because I'm staying here," he said in a whiny voice as he picked up the clock.
Now, I wished I was a big shot lawyer at the firm and could threaten to sue him for invasion of vacation or something. But, I was a lowly clerk and didn't have any bluster to spare. There was no use arguing so I packed up my clothes, collected my toiletries, put the key on the kitchen counter, and headed to my car.
I shaded my eyes and looked across the lake, searching for Ryan. I wanted to say good-bye before I left. A slight ripple in the water startled me.
Ryan rose from the water like Adonis reborn or Colin Firth, nude except for loose black trunks. I fixed my sights on his washboard abs, molded shoulders, and solid thighs. I didn't know water dripped this way and that way on tanned skin. I would love the beach and the outdoors and the sun if Ryan would be the present they gave me every day. He swaggered toward me, wiped the water from his face, and smiled. Then he must have noticed my luggage at my feet.
"You're skipping town without saying good-bye?" He didn't sound pleased.
"No, I'm being booted out." I pointed to the open curtains in the second story window. "Aubrey's here."
"What? He never comes here."
"He or his reasonable facsimile has taken over the residence. I was going to drive over to your house on my way home."
"You don't have to leave."
"Sleeping in the sand doesn't appeal to me."
"Stay at my house. I have plenty of room or I'll sleep at the firehouse. Don't spoil your vacation because snot ass Aubrey showed up." He shook off more water, but specks clung to his curly chest hair.
I licked my lips as temptation loomed before me. An invitation too sweet to pass up, but my ghost companion had waited too long for her reunion.
"I'll give you a ride home, unless you'd rather swim back," I said as I offered him my blanket.
"Thanks," he said as he wrapped it around his waist.
He helped me carry my meager belongings to my car, and we got in. I pulled around Aubrey's sports car in the driveway and headed around the lake. I didn't want to go, but wasn't comfortable sleeping with, I mean, staying with Ryan.
I decided to drive home. I'd taken up enough of Ryan's time, Amanda's impatience wore me down, and I had work on Friday. We arrived at his house, and he rushed upstairs to change. I lingered in his kitchen, imagining a life here.
Two days does not a love match make, but it would have been nice.
"What are you doing Friday night?" he asked as he snuggled in behind me, slinking his arms around my waist.
"Are you planning a road trip?"
"I've got a reason to spend the weekend in Chicago, if you don't mind my company."
He can bring his company, limited partnership, and corporation to my apartment.
"I'd like that very much."
He loaded detailed directions to my apartment into my phone, walked me to my car, and lingered for not enough kisses. I waved as I left and felt the air shift as Amanda appeared in the passenger seat. I rolled down her window and selected an oldi
es radio station. She bobbed her head to the tunes as we sped away to kick some killer butt.
At my apartment, Amanda floated from window to window, and I remembered to be scared. Being home meant confronting Jane. I had no proof or witnesses, just a jacked up ghost.
"Have you ever been to Chicago?" I asked Amanda.
She nodded yes and spun around the room again. We spent Wednesday going over her plan of attack. Thursday, I went to work and plotted out my logistics. Nobody even asked me about my big vacation. Nice to know I was missed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
On Friday, I stalked Killer Bea's movements. She ate her lunch at her desk, so I waited for her to take a potty break. I never clocked her before, but she must be part camel or refused to drink all liquids during the day. I wanted to return the pin and ring to Mr. Chase's desk and pretend I knew nothing about their reappearance. A call came in for Mr. Chase. I transferred it to Bea's phone then listened in as her voicemail clicked on. Bea was away from her desk. Here was my narrow window of opportunity. I glanced around, grabbed the box, and headed down the hall. Bea emerged from her office doorway and scowled.
"What are you doing back here?" she asked.
I met your useless spawn; he inherited your rudeness and chipmunk teeth.
"I wanted to thank Mr. Chase for the use of his lake house."
"Don't bother him with such trivial matters, send his wife a note."
"I would but don't have her address."
"E-mail it."
I turned to leave and bumped into Mr. Chase, returning from a meeting.
"Bea, I'm sorry to interrupt, but…" he said.
"I was just leaving, sir. Thank you again for the use of your home. I enjoyed my trip to Ishawa very much," I said to him.
"Good, please set my briefcase in my office by my desk," he said as he held the handle out to me.
Saved by the man in the grey linen suit.
"Of course, happy to help," I said, sliding the handle into my grasp.
Bea frowned as I skirted around her to Mr. Chase's office. I listened as he gave Bea a review of his dealings and a list of things for her to do. I slipped through the door and left it open. I ran to his sleek art deco desk, set the case down, and tried the top drawer. Locked. Next I pulled the one to the right's handle. His voice grew closer. The drawer slid open as I slipped the box from my pocket and jammed it in the back. He arrived in the doorway as I made my way out. A portrait over the frame caught my eye.
Manuel stopped painting forty years ago. His last one was of an all-American girl: blonde, blue eyes, pink cheeks, and dazzling smile.
Amanda. Everett Chase was the infamous Manuel.
I froze and swallowed hard. Mr. Chase didn't notice me as he sorted through a file in his hand. Did he give up painting after Amanda died? I glanced at the painting again, the joy and abandon captured contrasted to the melancholy man before me. He lost so much that day and combined with Amanda's sadness it overwhelmed me. I couldn't help it as I reached out and patted his arm as I passed him. I broke his trance and startled him.
"I just wanted to say I'm happy to know you and work here," I said, fighting back a few tears as I glanced at the painting.
"Thank you," he said as he followed my stare.
He smiled, nodded at me, and proceeded to his desk.
Did the painting have a glow about it before? Was Amanda making her presence known to him right now?
Bea marched up and scowled at me.
"Hold all calls until I say otherwise," she hissed and hastened my exit.
I landed back in my assigned slot and answered the phone, but my mind floated elsewhere. If Mr. Chase was Manuel, it explained the ownership of the paintings, but why did he stop creating such gorgeous pieces of art? Heartbroken over Amanda's death or lost his talent or something or someone prevented him?
I tapped my pen on the desk as my brain processed my crazy scenarios from arthritic fingers to absent muse to…
"Gretchen," Mrs. Chase said as she knocked on the counter.
The other woman.
Did Jane approve of his paintings, gorgeous women entwined with their lovers? What of his possible secret background? Didn't she want to project wealth, success, and privilege to the world? I saw a clearer picture of Jane Baxter Chase, jealousy and pettiness mixed with a touch of evil and malice toward all.
I stood, full of indignation and ready to accuse her. Of what? I had no proof except the word of a ghost.
"You don't get paid to daydream, call to get the copier fixed," she said as she headed down the hall.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chase, Mr. Chase is in conference and asked not to be disturbed."
She waved me off and glided toward the back office. I hoped Bumble Bea and Ready as Ever Everett were lip and hip locked for Jane's viewing pleasure.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I waited and watched as the offices emptied out for the weekend. Every time the elevator doors opened, I craned around to see if the repairman had arrived. Another hour ticked by. I surfed the internet, sharpened all the pencils, and started a grocery list when the console phone light from Mr. Chase's office blinked on.
He left three hours ago.
I checked the magnetized board by the closet. Everyone moved the tiles into the in or out box when they passed it on their way to their offices. All were flipped to the out column.
The light flashed off.
Were the cleaning people here? Did they use a separate entrance? Should I call the security desk downstairs to ask if they'd seen the copier guy? Did Jane leave?
I drummed my fingers on my desk when I heard a thump like something heavy hitting the door.
Finally Mr. Fix-It had arrived.
My cell phone rang, and a familiar name flashed across the screen as I stood.
"Hi, Ryan."
I rounded my desk and pushed open the glass door to an empty hall. No one was there—even the elevators were silent.
If the noise wasn't in the hall, it was in one of the offices. Meaning I had company in the form of a coworker or burglar.
"Gretchen, are you there? I'm downstairs, but security won't let me up without clearance," Ryan said.
"You do look dangerous."
I turned around at the sound of a click. Jane stood with a gun in her hand and the frat pin attached to her suit coat lapel. Somebody found my gift.
"Gretchen, don't you want to see me?" Ryan asked.
Always, but not right now. I needed to distract crazy Jane and run like hell. Ryan couldn't stroll up here, but he was my only help. What would he understand as a sign of trouble without tipping off my beady-eyed gunslinger? Something told me I wasn't her first victim. Amanda probably had that distinction. Maybe the mystery woman behind Caitlin's birth had met up with Jane too.
"Tell Gertie her dirty girl says hi," I said as I hung up.
"Get in here, and lock the door," Jane said as she waved the gun at me.
Copier guy, now would be a good time to step off the elevator and scare Jane.
"Turn off the light, and walk down the hall."
She motioned me into Mr. Chase's office and closed the door.
"How did you find the pin and ring?" she asked in a menacing tone.
"Amanda told me they were in the clock. You stashed her engagement ring and pin in it after you killed her. Did she visit and scare Aubrey? He freaked out at the sight of the clock."
Stunned, she stared at me. Her hand shook as she picked up the phone receiver and dialed. Jane yelled in the phone. I caught the gist because she complained about calling earlier and not getting an answer. Then she gave specific instructions about not screwing up, how much gasoline to buy, and light the fire at the back of the house.
"Aubrey, make sure no one sees you," she said as she hung up.
He didn't tell her I saw him, or did he? I told Ryan he was there and he must have mentioned it to someone. All Mr. Chase's paintings were about to go up in smoke. Why did Jane hate them so much? They were worth millions a
nd Jane loved money, but Everett didn't love her. The late Amanda was his muse and must have visited with him while he painted. She never left because she waited for him to come back to her, without Jane. Did she make her presence known over the years, communicate with him, or just silently watch? I noticed a white sphere hung in the shadows of the ceiling.
Had Amanda paid a long overdue visit to her love here?
"You should turn yourself in. Bea's son isn't your ally. Plus, Amanda has probably told Mr. Chase the truth by now."
"What the…?"
A security guard burst through the office door and Jane shot him. He crumpled to the floor as the next guard knelt down, took aim, and hit Jane's shoulder. She screamed and was tackled by another guard and Ryan. The gun went off again and hit the desk lamp. I scrunched down and covered my head. A nasty crack of bone echoed in the office. I peered around to see Jane in a heap on the floor, babbling about Amanda's accident not being her fault. The guard grabbed her wrists and handcuffed her. Policemen rushed in with a few paramedics who assisted the injured guard.
"Sir, please take down every word she's saying. She's admitting to a fifty-year-old murder she committed," I said to the officer closest to me.
The policeman stopped, turned on his phone, and recorded Jane's ranting as he recited her Miranda rights.
"Hey babe, are you all right?" Ryan asked as he gathered me in his arms and kissed my forehead.
Better than better, but more Chase treachery had been hatched and had to be stopped. The hug fest would have to wait. I gained another reason to hate Jane.
"Find Aubrey; he's going to torch the house," I said to Ryan.
He cradled me in his lap and was on his phone, shouting instructions. He paused to listen and laughed out loud.
"Thank God, Aubrey's as dumb as a post," Ryan said as he hung up. "He brought four five-gallon gas cans to the local station and ended up spilling gas by the pump as he tried to fill one. The manager ran outside and started yelling at him. Josh pulled up to the other pump, saw the empty cans in Aubrey's trunk, and got out of his car. Aubrey cried and said his mom wanted him to burn the house down because his dad's a famous artist. Josh called the police station. Some cops showed up at the gas station, the others headed to the house. Ishawa is buzzing tonight."
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