Homecoming By The Sea

by Kathi Daley

  Chapter 10

  When I returned home with the groceries, I was relieved to see Alyson playing with Sunny on the front lawn. Or what was left of the lawn. After ten years of neglect, it was more of a weed patch, but it was green and offered a contrast to the sandy soil.

  “Where have you been?” I asked her after I’d pulled up in front of the house and exited the vehicle.

  Alyson looked confused. “I don’t know. How long was I gone?”

  I took a couple of bags from the trunk. “I’m not sure exactly. You were in the room with me when I fell asleep last night but gone when I woke up this morning.” I turned toward the front door with the groceries in my arms. “When you fade away, do you go to a place? A physical place? Or are you just suspended in some sort of limbo?”

  Alyson shrugged. “I never thought about it. I remember being in bed with you and then being on the lawn with Sunny and Shadow.” Alyson glanced toward the front porch, where Shadow was lounging on the front porch swing. “I don’t know where I was in between or how long I was there.”

  I climbed the steps to the front porch, opened the front door, and walked inside. Mac saw me come in and went out to the car to grab a couple more bags while I went on into the kitchen. “It must be odd to just pop in and out the way you do. Can you control it?”

  “I think so. I know that since you’ve been here all I have to do is want to be somewhere and there I am. I’m sorry if you were worried about me. I’ll try not to fade away for so long.”

  I set the groceries on the counter and began emptying the bags.

  “What are we going to do today?” Alyson asked.

  I opened the refrigerator and began loading up the crisper. “I want to go back to Booker’s house to try to talk to him again. I didn’t have a lot of time to question him about his memories of the night he died. I’m hoping he’ll be able to fill in some of the blanks. After that, I hope to arrange interviews with some museum volunteers. Oh, I ran into Chelsea at the grocery store.”

  “I wonder if she ever found her footing.”

  I paused and looked at Alyson. “Found her footing?”

  “She had a tough time when we were in high school. She never felt like she fit in or had any real friends.”

  I raised a brow. “She was the most popular girl in school. Head cheerleader. Homecoming queen. Every boy’s fantasy. As well as pushy and obnoxious.”

  “Fake. Nothing was real. She tried so hard, but it never felt right to her.”

  Alyson could be right. I’d sometimes seen a look of loneliness and longing in her eyes. “I think she found herself along the way,” I said. “When I saw her today, she seemed happy. Settled.”

  “Did you remember the ice cream?” Alyson asked, peering into one of the bags.

  Talk about a short attention span.

  “Three kinds. If you want to come with me to Booker’s, stick around. I’m going to go over as soon as I get these groceries put away and I’m not going to wait if you aren’t around.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Alyson assured me as she sat on the counter. “If you want to get Monica out of the room, bring something to share that she’ll have to serve. Like cake or pie. We can talk to Booker while she fetches the plates and utensils.”

  “That,” I smiled, “is a very good idea.”

  “What’s a good idea?” Mac asked as she walked in with a load of groceries.

  “Alyson suggested we bring something for Monica to share. A cake or pie that she’ll want to serve. I can chat with Booker, providing he shows, while Monica gets the plates and flatware.”

  Mac set the bags on the counter. “That is a good idea.” She looked around the room. “I wish I could see Alyson.”

  Alyson wandered over and took Mac’s hand in hers. Mac smiled. “She’s here, isn’t she? Holding my hand. I can feel her.”

  I nodded. “She’s holding your hand. You know, maybe if you practice, you’ll eventually be able to see her too. I think the fact that you can feel her is really something.”

  Mac’s phone rang, breaking the spell. Alyson walked away while Mac looked at the caller ID. “I need to take this.”

  She walked out onto the deck and I continued to put away groceries. I’d ended up buying enough to feed an army. I hoped Trevor would keep coming by so everything got eaten.

  “That was work,” Mac said a few minutes later. “I’m afraid I have to log in and help a customer who’s having problems with an update. I wanted to go with you to Booker’s, but it looks like this could take most of the afternoon.”

  “No problem,” I said. “I’ll take Alyson and we’ll stop to buy a cake to distract Monica for a few minutes. I should be home in a couple of hours. I bought a ton of food, so help yourself to whatever. Oh, and if Trev calls, let him know we’re barbecuing so he doesn’t stop for food on his way over.”

  After making sure all the groceries were where they belonged, I headed to the door. Sunny followed me, hoping to come along, but I wasn’t sure Monica would want her in Booker’s house. “Sorry, sweetie, you can’t come this time. We’ll take a walk when I get back.”

  Sunny whined and stretched out on the floor and stared at me with her huge sad eyes. Darn it; I hated to leave her when she looked at me like that. Sad eyes were exactly the reason I’d sent Tucker to live with Mom. In New York my life had become so full. I’d hated leaving him home day after day, even when I hired a dog walker. Eventually, I’d admitted he’d be better off with Mom.

  Alyson bent down and whispered something in Sunny’s ear. She stood up, wagged her tail, and headed up the stairs.

  “What did you tell her?” I asked as I went out the front door.

  “I told her that I hid a treat for her under your bed.”

  “And did you?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t tease. Shotgun,” she called as she appeared in my front seat.

  ******

  I’d called ahead to let Monica know I planned to stop by. I’d said I needed to reference a few of Booker’s books to understand how his project to find the Santa Isabella might play into his death. Really, I had no idea what sort of information I might be looking for, but Booker had loads of books on the history of shipping on the Oregon coast; I figured asking to check out his books was as good an excuse as any to spend some time in the library.

  As Alyson had suggested, I’d brought a treat to share. I’d been thinking cake but ended up with brownies.

  “Alyson, I’m so glad you stopped by,” Monica, wearing a cute yellow sundress, greeted me.

  “It’s Amanda now.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. It’s hard to get used to the change.”

  “Not a problem.” I handed Monica the bag. “I brought brownies.”

  “I love brownies.” Monica smiled.

  “A cup of coffee to go with them would be perfect,” I hinted.

  “I’ll make some. Go on back to the library. I’ll bring everything when the coffee’s ready.”

  Bingo. Just as I’d planned. I headed down the hallway with Alyson skipping behind me. I was glad no one else could see her. If she were solid and humanlike and appeared to everyone, I wasn’t sure how I could explain a teenager who looked exactly like me but acted a lot more immature than I had ever been even as a teen.

  “Booker, are you here?” I said aloud as I walked into the library and closed the door behind me.

  He appeared just a few feet from where I stood. “I sent Monica to get coffee, so we need to talk fast. I’m of the opinion you have knowledge that could help us catch your killer, but it would be easier if we could speak freely. How do you feel about telling Monica that you’re here?”

  Booker didn’t answer right away, though he appeared to be giving my question some thought. Eventually, he said, “I agree it would be easier if she knew I was here, but I don’t want to scare her. I’m not sure how she’d feel about living in a house with a ghost she can’t see.”

  “I can see she would always be wondering if y
ou were lurking. Watching.”

  “I seem to be trapped in the library, so I suppose that would ease her mind on that count.” Booker paused and then continued. “Perhaps you can work the subject of ghosts casually into the conversation and see how she reacts.”

  “Okay. Before she comes back, though, I want to ask, do you have any theories at all as to who might have killed you?”

  “I’ve thought of little else since you were here. I’m not sure this lead will pan out, but I hired a man to help me look for the cargo.”

  “Oliver Pendergrass?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “Chelsea told me about him. Do you think he killed you?”

  Booker shook his head. “No. But I think he could have told someone about the cargo I was looking for, and that someone might have decided to look for it on their own.”

  I rolled my lips one against the other to moisten them. “Who do you think he told?”

  “I don’t know. But the house was broken into while I was away a week or so before I died. The alarm sounded, and the police arrived after only five minutes, so whoever broke in didn’t have a lot of time in here. It appeared at first that nothing had been taken, and the police assumed the alarm had scared the intruder away, but later, after they left, I found that two of the books that had been on my desk were missing.”

  “Books about the Santa Isabella?”

  Booker nodded. “The only two books I had dedicated to ships during that time period.”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay. That’s unfortunate, but it does give us an avenue to investigate. Chelsea said you and Oliver had an argument in the days before your death. She was in the museum when the two of you came in. She left shortly after, so she didn’t hear much, but from what she did hear, it sounded like Oliver was pretty angry.”

  “He was. I accused him of flapping his lips and spreading the news that I’d hired him to find the cargo from the Santa Isabella. He denied it, but I didn’t believe him. I told him I had no intention of working with a man who couldn’t keep to the confidentiality agreement I’d had him sign and was inclined to look elsewhere for a ship, and he yelled back at me that one way or another, he was getting what was due him.”

  “So you promised him something for finding the treasure or cargo or whatever it was you were looking for.”

  Booker nodded. “I’d been paying him a small daily fee with the promise of a large payout once I find what I was looking for. I could see why he was mad. If I fired him, he would lose the payout. On the other hand, if he was blabbing…”

  “I think at this point…” I stopped talking abruptly when I heard the tea trolley roll up to the library door. Monica opened it and rolled the trolley inside.

  “Here we are. Coffee with brownies, as requested.”

  “Thank you so much. I feel like such a pest, asking you for coffee you didn’t have already made, but I got up early and have been running around all day. I really needed a chocolate and caffeine pick-me-up.”

  “It wasn’t a problem at all,” Monica said. “I’m just grateful you’ve come all this way to help find Uncle Rory’s killer. I know how busy you must be in New York. The fact that you remembered Uncle Rory and want to help means a lot. Anything at all you need, just ask.”

  I smiled as I watched Booker and Alyson go over to the chairs in front of the fire where they’d sat the previous day. Did ghosts need to sit? I couldn’t imagine that gravity affected them, so they shouldn’t need to take the weight off their feet.

  “When we researched the ship we were looking for back when we first met, Booker had a couple of books relating to shipping in this area. Old books. Books yellowed with age. I was sure I remembered where he’d shelved them, but I don’t see them now.”

  Monica’s lips tightened. “Woody told me that Uncle Rory reported a theft the week before he was murdered. Someone took two of his books. Two of his old books. I seem to remember they were related to the history of shipping in this area. If you can remember the names of the books you’re looking for, you can check with Woody. I’m sure my uncle gave him the specifics.”

  I sat down at the table and took a sip of the coffee Monica had brought. It was good; I took another sip. “I’ll check with Woody, but chances are they’re the ones I was thinking of.” I lifted a brownie from the larger plate and transferred it to one of the two small ones Monica had brought with her. “It seems the cargo your uncle was looking for may have been the motive for his death, although I won’t go so far as to say I’m discounting other possibilities. I think focusing too tightly at this point would be a mistake.”

  “I agree in theory, but who?”

  “I spoke to Chelsea Green today. She mentioned a man named Oliver Pendergrass.”

  Monica nodded. “I know of him. His name was brought up before. I’m pretty sure Woody cleared him, but perhaps you should ask him to fill you in on what he found.” A tear lingered at the corner of Monica’s eye. “I’ve tried to participate in the investigation to the extent I’ve been asked, but it’s so hard. I can’t imagine what Uncle Rory went through in his last minutes. It horrifies me to even consider it, so I’ve tried to block out the details and let the professionals do what they’re paid to do.”

  I put my hand on Monica’s. “I totally understand.”

  “My brother doesn’t understand why I agreed to move into this house. He’s angry Uncle Rory didn’t leave it to us, and he doesn’t understand why I would want to help when in his eyes, we’ve been slighted. But I really do see why Uncle Rory did it, and I like living here. I feel close to him when I’m in the house or walking through the gardens he spent so much time tending. This may sound strange, but I can feel his presence in this house. Especially in this room.”

  “It doesn’t sound strange at all. And I’m sure he is here. Watching over you.”

  Monica smiled sadly.

  “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but when I first moved to Cutter’s Cove, I saw a ghost.”

  Monica looked doubtful. “A real ghost?”

  I nodded. “It was Barkley Cutter. I’d never seen a ghost before, but from the moment I moved into the house where he had lived and died, I could sense him. I felt his presence for days, watching me, judging me, waiting to make his presence known at just the right time. When he did appear, I wasn’t surprised to see him. Some part of me knew that once I’d accepted his presence he’d come to me.”

  “How did he look?”

  “His features were faint, like a blurry watercolor. Otherwise, he looked like he had in life, gnarled and wrinkled, his back curved with age. Yet he was translucent and airy. Like gossamer suspended in space.”

  Monica leaned forward. “Were you scared?”

  I shook my head. “I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He came to me because he needed my help. He’s the reason I became involved in my first investigation. Since then, I’ve seen other ghosts. Some, like Barkley, needed my help; others just appeared as if to say hello, or maybe to check me out.”

  “Can you see Uncle Rory? Is he here in this house?”

  I glanced at Booker, who had his attention on our conversation. I decided to take a chance. “He is here.”

  “Where?” Monica looked around, turning her head in as close to a full circle as one could.

  I pointed. “There. By the fireplace.”

  Chapter 11

  Monica got up and walked across the room, tears streaming down her face. “Uncle Rory. Are you here? Can you hear me?”

  She stopped walking. Booker touched her arm. A look of surprise crossed her face. “I can feel him. On my arm. It felt warm, as if a hand touched me.”

  “He did touch your arm. He hopes you aren’t too freaked out by his presence. He wants me to assure you that he spends all his time in the library and isn’t lurking around in the rest of the house.”

  Monica frowned. “I’m not freaked out, but if he’s here, that means he hasn’t moved on.”

  “He seems to be trapped here
for the time being. I’m hoping if we can find his killer, he’ll be free to move on to the afterlife. That’s what happened with Barkley and a few of the other ghosts I encountered.”

  Monica reached out a hand, as if to feel for him. She slowly pulled her hand back and then returned to the table where I was still sitting. “We need to help him. We need to find his killer.”

  “We will,” I said with a certainty I was far from feeling. “We will,” I said again, as if to convince myself.

  “Where do we start? What do we do?” she asked.

  “I’m going to ask Booker some questions. It will seem odd to you because you’ll only be able to hear my side of the conversation, but I’ll explain when I’m done.”

  Monica looked scared, but she nodded.

  I turned back to Booker. “Woody told me that on the night you died, you’d been to a party. Several people who were there told him that about halfway through the evening, you received a text and left. It was your housekeeper who found your body the next day, but the medical examiner put time of death at one to three hours after you left the party. Do you remember where you went?”

  Booker paused, as if trying to pull up the memory. “I’m not sure. It’s all a blur. I remember the party. Chelsea and Caleb were there. I spoke to them, as well as a few others. I remember leaving early, but I can’t remember why.”

  “You left after you received a text. Try to remember who it was from.”

  Booker faded out but faded back in after a few seconds. “I do remember the text. It was from a man named Dredge. Or at least I think it was.”

  “Dredge?”

  “I’d forgotten it until this minute. After I learned that others were aware of my project and suspected Oliver had broken the confidentiality agreement I’d insisted on, I looked around for someone who had a ship comparable to his. It was very important to me that whoever I hired understood the importance of secrecy. I asked around at the marina and was given the name of a man who preferred to operate off the radar. That was fine with me. That was what I was looking for.”