by Bobbi Holmes
“Maybe she didn’t have anything to do with Cheryl’s murder, but she still isn’t someone I’d want to get close to. Consider yourself lucky you dodged that bullet.”
“I suppose.” Joe sighed.
They were interrupted by a knock at the office door .The door opened and the woman from the front desk popped her head in and said, “Susan Mitchell from the bank’s here and wanted to talk to the chief, but he’s not in. Do you think one of you could talk to her?”
“Sure, send her in,” Joe said.
A few moments later Susan Mitchell entered the office carrying a manila envelope.
“What can we do for you Susan?” Joe asked, pointing to the empty chair for her to sit down. Brian immediately picked his cap up from the chair, making room for Susan.
“I was wondering if you were working on the Isabella Strickland case?” she asked
“It really isn’t in our jurisdiction,” Brian told her. “They found her in California, and I know the authorities down there are working on the case. Of course, we’ll be cooperating.”
“I went to see Isabella, but Stoddard didn’t want to let me in to see her.”
“I understand she’s still in a coma,” Joe said.
“Yes, she is. But still, we’ve been friends forever. He finally let me in but would only allow me to stay for a few minutes.”
“How did she look?” Joe asked.
“It was awful. Those monsters almost killed her. Her poor head is all bandaged. I practically didn’t recognize her…if it wasn’t for her tattoo...it’s just that she looked so helpless, and Isabella never seemed helpless to me. I hated seeing her like this. They need to catch whoever did this to her.”
“Unless she wakes up, they may never find out what happened,” Brian said.
“According to Stoddard, she wasn’t raped.”
“We heard that,” Joe said with a nod.
“If it wasn’t a sexual assault it must have been a robbery,” Susan insisted.
“From what I understand, there hasn’t been any unusual activity on her credit cards, and her car was left at the rest stop,” Brian explained.
“Yes, but this wasn’t on her,” Susan said as she removed an eight by ten photograph from the envelope and slapped it on the desk in front of Joe. Joe picked up the photograph and examined the picture. It was a close up of Isabella Strickland showing off a matching necklace and bracelet.
“I don’t understand?” Joe asked, handing the photograph to Brian.
“I took that picture of Isabella, about a week before she went missing. I printed it out on my computer this afternoon. I wanted you to see it.”
“What are we looking at exactly?” Brian asked.
“Isabella commissioned a jeweler in Portland to make that necklace and bracelet. It’s kind of hard to see, but the clasp looks like a dragon, similar to her tattoo.
“She stopped over at the bank to show it to me and I took the picture. I know it’s valuable, and from what I understand, it wasn’t on her when they found her. I asked Stoddard about it and he said he’s never seen it before. I have to assume, whoever tried to kill her took the necklace and bracelet. Maybe that’s why they tried to kill her. The authorities should check pawnshops. It could be a clue.”
“She may not have been wearing it when she went missing,” Brian suggested.
“Oh no,” Susan shook her head. “Isabella designed the set herself. She told me she was never going to take it off.”
“If that’s so, don’t you think it’s a little odd Stoddard didn’t recognize it?” Joe asked.
“Not really. I don’t think they saw each other that often, and I doubt she showed it to him before she left town.” Susan explained.
“Can I keep this?” Joe nodded to the photograph in Brian’s hand. “I’d like to send this to the authorities in California working the case. Could be a lead.”
“Yes, thank you!” Susan stood up. “I was hoping you would say that.”
When Susan left the office, Brian glanced at the photograph one final time before tossing it on the desk. He looked at Joe and said, “Between the Missing Thorndike and now this, I’ve come to believe expensive jewelry is nothing but a liability.”
Chapter Thirteen
“The Stewarts sure seemed happy to have the house to themselves this morning,” Lily said as Danielle pulled out of the driveway.
“It’s their honeymoon, what do you expect?”
“Of course, the joke is on them. I imagine Walt will be watching their every move.”
“Just as long as he doesn’t watch them in their bedroom.”
“I wonder if Mr. Stewart will pick up on Walt again. If he does have some sort of psychic power, I wonder why he can’t see him.”
“I think everyone has psychic powers. Just some people are more sensitive than others. For whatever reason, most people seem to be able to smell Walt’s cigar smoke. You did, Joanne did, even Cheryl did when she was alive. So for Mr. Stewart to pick up on it, that’s not surprising.”
“True. But Marvin.”
“When you were a kid, Lily, didn’t you ever play the game where someone thinks of a color and you try to guess it?”
“Yeah, but what does that have to do with it? You think he guessed at the name, like Walt suggested?”
“No. But sometimes when people play that game—sometimes the answer is not a random guess but something they picked up telepathically.”
“You think that’s what happened?”
“It could be.” Danielle glanced over at Lily in the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on.”
Without thought, Lily attempted to grab the seatbelt. It slipped through her hand. She looked up at Danielle and scowled. “Funny.”
“Sorry.” Danielle giggled. “I couldn’t resist.”
“You have a rather peculiar sense of humor about all this.” Lily slumped back in the seat and looked ahead.
“It’s probably a coping mechanism.” Danielle added with a chuckle, “Plus, it was sorta funny.”
“I hope I’m able to communicate with Isabella,” Lily said after a few moments of silence.
“Me too.”
“What if something horrible has happened to my body?”
No longer finding levity in the situation Danielle said, “I have to believe it’s in relatively good shape. Otherwise a reflection wouldn’t be attached to your spirit.”
“But that’s all speculation. None of us knows for sure. We don’t even know what the reflection means. You admitted you’ve never encountered an out of body experience.”
“Sometimes, all we can do is believe.”
They were silent for a few moments before Danielle asked, “Lily, do you still feel as if you’re alive? That you aren’t dead?”
“Walt told me that when you explained to him he was dead, everything fell into place. It suddenly made sense to him. He knew instinctively you were telling the truth, and he wasn’t surprised. It was as if he always knew but couldn’t quite grasp what that was. But for me, I have this strong pull…toward life. It’s hard to explain. But yes, I still feel as if I am alive…someplace.”
“Ian called me last night,” Danielle said.
“He did? How is he? Did he get a flight?”
“Yes. He got into Palm Springs late last night. Gave me the name of the motel he’s staying at. Said he would call me later this afternoon. I wish I could tell him what I know. But then he would start looking at me like Joe does.”
“You mean lovesick? I hope not! I may be temporarily out of commission, but I’ve got dibs on Ian!” Lily grinned.
“No. Not lovesick. Joe looks at me like I’m broken—like I’m a candidate for the looney bin.”
“Joe also looks at you with…longing. I sorta feel sorry for him. After all Dani, it is not entirely his fault. He has every reason to believe you maliciously ruined Cheryl’s clothes, that you hit her, that you tried to kill Renton when he was already unconscious and that you seemingly talk to imag
inary people. In spite of all that, he is still interested in you. He sees the real you, but it gets lost with all that other stuff in the way.”
“I don’t want to talk about Joe.” Danielle pulled the car over to the curb and stopped. “Here we are.” They looked up at the Gusarov Estate. Wrought iron fencing surrounded the massive home.
“Okay we won’t talk about Joe. But I will say one last thing on the subject. Personally, I think he has a tendency to be a little too controlling. I don’t see you with a helicopter boyfriend who tries to take care of you in that way. But, I don’t think you should be so angry with him.”
“Duly noted. Meet me out here when you’re done, I should be back within the hour.”
“Okay. Wish me luck!” Effortlessly Lily moved outside. Standing by the car, she gave Danielle a wave before turning and running through the gate toward the Gusarov mansion.
* * *
“Danielle! I wasn’t sure you were going to make it!” Marie said when she answered the door five minutes later. Still spry at ninety, the elderly woman led Danielle into the living room. Sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper was Marie’s grandson, Adam. When the two women walked into the room, he set the paper on his lap and looked up.
“Really? I said I’d be here this morning.” Danielle glanced over at Marie’s grandson. “Morning Adam.”
“How are you holding up dear?” Marie clutched Danielle’s arm, looking into her face.
“We’re really sorry to hear about Lily,” Adam said from the couch. He picked up the newspaper from his lap and tossed it to the coffee table. Leaning back, he studied Danielle.
“You heard? How?” Danielle looked from Marie to Adam.
“Joe dropped by Adam’s office yesterday afternoon and told him. Why didn’t you call me, dear?” Marie asked, leading Danielle to a chair and giving her a little push to sit down. Obediently, Danielle sat.
“Joe’s a regular busy body,” Danielle grumbled under her breath.
“I can’t believe you didn’t call me!” Marie sat down on the chair next to Danielle.
“I didn’t want to say anything yet, because we don’t know for sure. I didn’t want to upset you needlessly.”
“What do you mean you don’t know for sure?” Adam asked. “I thought Lily’s car was in an accident; the driver was killed.”
“Yes, but the body hasn’t been identified yet and Lily would never speed. Whoever was driving the car was going over 100 miles an hour down the freeway. Lily would never do that.”
“If it wasn’t Lily in her car, where is she?” Marie asked.
“I don’t know. I just wish they would hurry up and ID the body so they’ll know to look for Lily.”
“When are they supposed to do that?” Marie asked.
“We’re hoping by the first of next week.”
“Where was the accident at?” Adam asked.
“Outside of Palm Springs. Not far from where they found Isabella Strickland,” Danielle said.
“Isabella Strickland…another senseless tragedy,” Marie sighed. “I’ve known the family since they first settled in Frederickport. Such a shame. Adam used to date Isabella. For a while there I hoped…well….”
“Yes, Grandma is always trying to get me married off,” Adam said under his breath.
“Have you seen her since they brought her home?” Danielle asked Adam.
“No. I haven’t seen much of Isabella since we stopped dating. That was about a year ago. I heard she was in a coma, so I really don’t see the point.”
“She did stop in to check on you, after they dropped the charges for Cheryl’s murder. That was considerate of her. You should go see her,” Marie said. “Make sure she’s all right.”
“Grandma, we know she isn’t all right. She’s in a coma. She wouldn’t even know I was there,” Adam said impatiently. He glanced over at Danielle, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.
“What was she like?” Danielle asked, curious about the woman who might know what happened to Lily.
“Isabella? I suppose if I could sum her up in one word it would be—flighty.”
“How so?” Danielle asked.
“Adam, that’s not nice! And with that poor girl laying there in that coma!” Marie scolded.
“It’s true, Grandma. You know it. Isabella would come up with some crazy idea and just go for it—without thinking it through.”
“I thought that’s what you liked about her,” Marie said. “You said she was an adventurous spirit.”
“Yeah, I said that. But I got a little tired of her adventures. And by the looks of it, her last one didn’t work out too good for her, did it?”
“What kind of crazy things would she do?” Danielle asked.
“Let’s see…” Adam considered the question. “Well, right before we broke it off she got involved with this crazy cult and decided to leave them all her money when she died. Her uncle flipped out.”
“Yes, Stoddard was furious about that,” Marie agreed.
“Her estate includes fifty percent of the family business. Stoddard was not thrilled with the prospect of that particular future business partner.”
“I can understand. But did he really expect to outlive his niece?”
“I suppose he was thinking of his own children. Not that he has any, but I heard wife number three is expecting,” Adam explained.
“We’ve heard that before,” Marie scoffed. “I don’t think Stoddard is capable of fathering a child.”
“So he knew about her will?” Danielle asked.
“Sure. Isabella doesn’t keep things like that quiet. He was furious. But she refused to back down. We stopped seeing each other around that time. But from what I’ve heard, she never changed the will. In retrospect, that might be one smart thing she did.”
“Why do you say that, Adam?” Danielle asked.
“Think about it, if she dies now, Earthbound Spirits inherits her estate, and Stoddard gains a new business partner. He won’t even have a majority share. As it is right now, Isabella signed an agreement a few years back giving him control over the business. She can revoke the agreement at any time. But with her in a coma she can’t do that,” Adam explained. “And as long as she’s alive, Earthbound Spirits can’t inherit.”
“That’s odd. When Isabella left town this last time, according to Ian, her uncle was going around town complaining about Isabella just taking off—as if she was in some way shirking her duties with the family business,” Danielle said.
“Who knows why Stoddard does anything,” Adam shrugged. “I don’t think Isabella’s ever been involved with the business.”
“I happened to look at her Facebook page. She listed her occupation as writer,” Danielle said.
“Oh yes, she is so talented,” Marie said. “In high school she won a number of writing contests. I think she even got one of her stories published in a magazine.”
“Isabella is a talented writer,” Adam agreed. “But calling it her occupation is stretching it, to say the least.”
“So she doesn’t do it professionally?” Danielle asked.
“No. Isabella always loved writing stories. She never learned to type, never wanted to. Wrote everything longhand in notebooks. But after writing a story, she’d move on to the next story without even trying to find a publisher.”
“Lot of people self-publish these days,” Danielle said.
“True. But like I said, she doesn’t know how to type—doesn’t use computers. She does have an iPad, which is probably how she set up her Facebook account. Isabella isn’t someone who’d go through the trouble of publishing herself. She doesn’t have the patience. And frankly, she doesn’t need the money.”
Marie stood up. “I’m going to check on the coffee. I put on a fresh pot just before you arrived.”
“Let me do that,” Adam said, preparing to stand.
“No, you stay there and keep Danielle company.”
“I am really sorry about your friend,” Adam said when Mari
e left the room. “I hope you’re right. Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“Not really. Ian went down to Southern California to see what he could fine out.”
“So Ian thinks she’s alive too?”
“We’re hoping.” Danielle smiled weakly. “I still can’t believe Joe told you about her. You said he stopped by your office yesterday?”
“Yes. It was right before I was getting ready to go home. Right before five.”
“That was after he stopped at Marlow House. I told him I didn’t think it was Lily in the car. I don’t know why he couldn’t wait until we learn more before he starts telling people.”
Chapter Fourteen
It took Lily just a moment to go from the street where Danielle had dropped her off to the front door of the Gusarov Estate. She wasn’t certain how she got there exactly—had she run, walked or floated? Preoccupied with her plan to infiltrate Isabella’s dream, she pushed the question from her mind and headed to the front door. It was closed. She suspected it was locked. She would be surprised if it wasn’t protected by some sort of alarm security system. Yet, she didn’t have to worry about that.
Effortlessly, Lily moved through the front door and found herself standing in the massive foyer of the Gusarov Estate. Its ceiling went up two floors. Glass and steel surrounded Lily. The interior had the same industrial feel as the house’s exterior.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway in Lily’s direction echoed through the foyer. Without thought, Lily looked for a place to hide. Before she could duck behind the curtains covering the large window adjacent to the front door, a maid appeared. The woman, neatly dressed in a white and black uniform, walked past Lily, oblivious to her presence.
As Lily watched the maid pull open the curtains, her attention was drawn to the keypad between the door and window. It was for the alarm system, and by the looks of it, it was not armed.
“Hello, can you hear me?” Lily couldn’t resist asking.
The maid, now humming a tune, pulled a dust rag from her apron’s pocket and began wiping down the foyer’s small table.