by K. J. Emrick
“Well, although he has this grand estate, it appears that Jonah Keaton is what I suppose you would call new money. His entire fortune comes from successful stocks and shares trading that he’s carried out over the past thirty years or so. He actually comes from humble parents. From what I could see, his life story is sort of interesting. He was in the military and was wounded during active combat. After that he went to work for a small investment firm and basically worked his way up into being independently wealthy. There’s some stuff with his family, too, but I couldn’t dig up too much on that.”
“Why is it the people who come up in the world always have to buy themselves a grand estate?” Kyle said cynically.
“Really? That’s all you got from what I just said?” Miranda clucked her tongue comically, shaking her head and laughing at a typical Kyle-like observation. “Anyway, Jonah Keaton married late, in his early fifties, in fact, and has one son. After five years of marriage and a rather public divorce, the ex-Mrs. Keaton walked away from the marriage with his collection of swanky cars and his second home near Melbourne.”
“Well, if she took that much and he’s still rich enough to offer you ten grand just to write his life story,” Kyle shrugged, “I’m guessing the guy has done really well for himself over the years.”
“I guess so,” Miranda said. It was really distracting talking to Kyle, because she couldn’t focus on him in the rearview mirror like she would have done the living. Ghosts don’t cast a reflection.
“I just don’t see why he called you out of the blue to write his memoirs,” he said to her now, floating up to settle into the front seat. “I don’t like this, Miranda. It’s just giving me a feeling.”
“I know what you mean, but he said Sapphire recommended me, so I suppose the least I can do is speak to him.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to. Okay, looks like we’re more or less here. Yup, that manor house there at the end of that long drive. I think that’s it.”
She slowed, and turned into the drive, rolling through an open gate set in a wrought iron fence. Manicured shrubs lined the way.
“Wow, that is kind of big.” Kyle finally sounded just the least bit impressed. “I mean, it’s no Ragged Rest, but then what is?”
Miranda pulled the car up on a great gravel apron outside the front door of the beautiful old manor house. Before she was even out of her car, a man and a woman were already standing in front of the open door on the wide stone steps, ready to greet her.
Of the few cars parked outside, Miranda immediately spotted Sapphire’s Nissan LEAF, the only alternative powered car that she had ever seen in Moonlight Bay. The brightly colored flower stickers down one side and eyelash stickers around the headlamps had been added after market by Sapphire herself.
“Miss Wylder?” The woman, dressed in a sharp white pantsuit and wearing too much makeup, smiled as she stepped closer. She was middle aged, with tight curly hair, and the aloof mannerisms of a woman who was used to being in charge.
“Yes, I’m Miranda Wylder,” Miranda said, taking the woman’s hand and shaking it.
“Ah. Good. My name is Fiona Remington. I’m Mister Keaton’s attorney.”
Just the person, Miranda thought, to bring along when making a potential book deal. “Pleased to meet you, Fiona.”
“And this,” Fiona said with a hand held out to the man, “is Morgan Dale. He is the chef for the manor. He’ll need to know if you have any special requests.”
Miranda was confused. “Requests?”
“Why yes,” Morgan said, brightly. He was a rotund man with an easy smile, dressed in a white shirt that buttoned up the side. “We will have the greatest dinner together, you and Mister Keaton. You name the dish, I shall whip it up for you.”
“I don’t… I don’t really know,” Miranda was dumbfounded. “I didn’t realize this would be a dinner meeting. I suppose anything you make will be fine.”
Morgan actually looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be challenged to make something amazing off the cuff. “Ah, well. It will still be memorable. We will dine promptly at six. There will be soup and fresh baked bread served in the sitting room as an appetizer as soon as I return inside. If you conclude your business with Mister Keaton early enough please join the others in there.”
And with that, he turned and waddled back into the house.
Kyle floated at Miranda’s side. “He’s a… large man, isn’t he?”
“So, Fiona,” Miranda said, ignoring Kyle’s rude comment. “do you live here, too? With, um… that is, do you live here with Jonah Keaton?”
“Oh, dear me, no. It’s not like that at all. I only pop out here occasionally on business. So, if you’ll follow me to the study?”
Fiona led Miranda in through the great doorway into an immense entrance hall. It had a checkerboard sort of tile pattern on the floor, and Miranda could not help but think of some kind of stately home somewhere in England meant for royalty. All the furniture was dark and solid, and there was heavy oak paneling on every wall. Everything seemed grand and austere at the same time.
“Mister Keaton simply loves his antiques,” Fiona explained when she saw Miranda’s expression. I always thought the old place looked kind of regal. Something of a showpiece, you might say. All these details will increase the value of the property three times over.”
“Some people,” Kyle commented sarcastically, “have more money than sense.”
Miranda shot him a look, but wasn’t able to say whether she agreed or not with his opinion.
As they made their way along a wide and lengthy corridor, Miranda looked to her side through an open door. It took her a moment to realize it was a dining room. She almost laughed at the grandeur of it. Only that morning she had thought her kitchen table so very big and here the great mahogany dining table in the home of Jonah Keaton was more than twice the size.
The next room they came to was smaller, but still very large. This must be the sitting room that Morgan had mentioned. Couches faced each other and overstuffed chairs abounded around heavy wooden tables. Thick red curtains drawn over the windows muted the light. Three figures sat in there, talking quietly among themselves. One was a young woman who was impeccably dressed and the other a man in a rather smart looking suit. Miranda recognized neither of them. The third person at least, was a familiar face. Fiona walked right past the door and so Miranda followed.
“I recognized Sapphire, of course,” Miranda said as they continued along the corridor. “But not the others?”
Fiona was happy to explain. “The young woman is Lea Maroney, also from the world of stocks and shares. She is something of a protégé of Jonah’s.”
“Okay. And the young man?”
“Oh, that would be Algernon Keaton. He’s Jonah’s son.” The answer was rather short and Miranda couldn’t miss the sour look that crossed Fiona’s face.
“You don’t like him, I take it?” Miranda said, the question popping out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it.
“Oh, I don’t really know him well enough to not like him,” Fiona hedged. The answer only served to rouse Miranda’s suspicions.
Kyle came back from lagging behind, floating along at Miranda’s side. “I waved right in front of Sapphire’s face,” Kyle reported to her. “Of course, she didn’t see a thing. That woman is no psychic, no matter what she wants to believe. She wouldn’t see a spirit if one reached around and pinched her on the butt. Not that I did such a terrible thing, mind you.”
His smile suggested otherwise.
The walkthrough of the house continued, and as the silence stretched on their way to the study Miranda tried to find something to talk about. “So, since you’re Mister Keaton’s attorney, I take it you’re here to oversee the contract signing between us? Because I have to tell you, I’m really only here to listen to what he has to say. I don’t want to disappoint anyone but this was all a little unexpected, if you know what I mean.”
&nbs
p; “The autobiography, you mean.” Fiona nodded. “He told me about that, but you’re right. It would be very premature to have an attorney here on that matter. No, I’m actually here to help Jonah redraft his will. Now that you’re here I’ll wait until you two are done. Ah, here we are then.”
Fiona stopped in front of a door sporting cherubs and flowers in carved relief, and knocked loudly upon it.
“Enter.”
Miranda immediately recognized the somewhat reedy and elderly tones of Jonah Keaton she’d heard on the phone earlier.
Fiona smiled as she held the door open for Miranda to walk into the study. “Mister Keaton, this is Miranda Wylder. Now, if you will both excuse me? I have a few things to attend to.”
“Of course, Fiona, of course,” Jonah said, dismissing her with a smile.
Jonah Keaton’s study was certainly an unusual sort of room. It was entirely circular, like the oval room in the White House or something. The walls were lined with thick wooden shelves, all of them holding many, many books. The old style, with thick red spines and gold lettering.
“Wow,” was Kyle’s comment. He went flying around the room, in one big circle after another, as though he’d found a merry-go-round. “You could charge admission to his place.”
Miranda watched him for a dizzying moment until she heard a strange buzzing sort of a noise, and Jonah moved forward in his chair, which she now saw was an electric wheelchair. A thick blue blanket covered his lap and hung down the sides. It had covered the wheels before, hiding his infirmity.
“How very glad I am to finally meet you, Miss Wylder. Dear Sapphire has spoken so fondly of you.”
“I had no idea that you and Sapphire were friends, Mister Keaton,” Miranda said, as cheerfully as she could. “I can’t remember her ever mentioning you, I’m sorry to say. How long have you known her?”
“Well, to be honest, Sapphire is rather Lea Maroney’s friend. They seem to get on very well so when Lea stays here, she often has Sapphire over to stay. I agree to it because after all I’ve got so much space here. There’s no reason not to share it when I can.”
“Mister Keaton, I really must ask you something. I understand we have this mutual friend with Sapphire, and I am a top-notch author or at least that’s what my publisher tells me. But why are you asking a crime novelist to write your memoirs?”
“Stop selling yourself short,” was Kyle’s advice to her. “You’re fantastic.”
Miranda sent him a little smile of thanks for that.
Jonah cleared his throat. “Well, you see Miss Wylder, as old as I am I’m still very busy with stock and share trading. It takes up most of my time, and I’m finding it all a little bit exhausting now that I’m eighty-one.” He paused for a moment, almost as if waiting for Miranda to protest that he looked so very much younger than he claimed to be. “Well. Anyway, I want to tell my story before I’m too old and I’m willing to pay top dollar to see that it is done.”
She couldn’t help but notice that didn’t really answer her question.
“Well, Mister Keaton, I do have a different fee structure for anything I do outside of my fiction work. I’m sure you’ve lived a very long and full life from just the little bit that I’ve read, so it will probably take up quite a few pages, and I would be charging you by the word.”
Jonah was smiling at that, but before he could actually answer there was the sound of running footsteps and suddenly the door to the study flew open, and the young man Fiona had identified as Jonah’s son, Algernon, came rushing in.
Jonah’s face registered annoyance. “What is the meaning of this, Algernon? I am in the middle of something, and you all were asked to wait in the sitting room until…”
“It’s Lea,” Algernon panted. “Oh, Dad. It’s Lea, she’s dead.”
“What?” The elderly man’s face paled to the color of ash.
“She started choking while eating her soup and I didn’t know anything was wrong until she just fell forward and stopped breathing. How does a person choke on soup? Father, I don’t know… I didn’t know what to do…”
Kyle floated up close to him, peering directly into his eyes, invisible to the panicked young man. “Likely story. Miranda, we have to see the scene. Um, right? Don’t we? That’s how it works, right?”
Jonah Keaton tried to propel his electric wheelchair toward the door but shock and nerves were obviously making it awkward. He was reversing and going forward and reversing and going forward and succeeding in banging into every single piece of furniture in the room before he got himself set straight.
“Here, let me help you,” Miranda offered, coming around behind him to push his chair.
“Thank you, Miss Wylder. I just can’t believe this. Would you be so kind as to push me to the sitting room?” His voice was quiet as he added, “And Algernon, I think you’d better call the police.”
Chapter 3
Algernon had raced on ahead and by the time Miranda had wheeled Jonah into the sitting room, the room was already in turmoil.
Fiona was there now, pacing back and forth. “It must have been the soup! You’ve been experimenting with new recipes again, haven’t you?” she demanded from the rotund chef, standing nearby with his apron fisted in his hands.
“No, it was not the soup!” Morgan argued. “It was just soup! It was good soup! Made exactly the way Lea liked it. Her special tomato soup with the flakes of broccoli and baby Brussel sprouts instead of croutons. Disgusting I know but it was the way she liked it.”
“So you say!” Algernon chipped in. “She’s dead, and she was eating the soup! Or… maybe it was the bread.”
Sapphire Moon-Flower flapped her arms in her long, flowing dress. “We were all eating the bread, remember?” When she saw Miranda pushing Jonah in she brought her hands up to her broad, expressive face. She was a hippie out of her time and had always worn her emotions on her sleeve. “Oh, Miranda, I’m so glad you’re here. Poor, poor Lea, I simply cannot believe that she’s dead!”
“I know,” Miranda said, and hugged her friend tightly. “I’m so sorry. Did you see it happen?”
“Well, yes. She just choked and fell over and I tried doing CPR, I really did, but she wouldn’t breathe and there was no heartbeat. You have to work it out, Miranda.” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “You have to speak to her ghost. Is she here? I can’t feel her but you’re better at this than me.”
Kyle snorted, leaning over the dead Lea’s body. “That’s because she’s a real psychic, and you’re a fraud, Sapphire Moon-Butt.”
He liked to make fun of her name, Miranda knew, but this was so not the time. She was going to have a talk with her ghost friend as soon as they were alone. As soon as she had figured out if the woman on the floor had died from natural causes, or something else.
“Sapphire, I don’t see her ghost,” Miranda whispered. “But it doesn’t always work that way. I’ll let you know.”
“Okay,” Sapphire said through her tears. “It’s so unfair, Miranda. Lea was so troubled lately, so depressed, and I just could not get to the bottom of it. I thought perhaps my being here would help her. I was doing some crystal work with her but it made no difference. Lea had such a heavy black aura, with occasional touches of pink.”
Pink? Miranda didn’t quite understand that. In truth, even though Miranda did see auras on occasion, she had never studied the issue or done any research at all to find out what different colored auras actually meant. So, sure. Why not pink?
“What do the colors signify, Sapphire?” Miranda asked.
“Well,” Sapphire said, “black is always an indication of bad news, depression or sadness. Hatred too, sometimes. But the pink suggests that she loved or was loved by somebody. That makes it all the sadder, doesn’t it?” Sapphire began to weep again.
“Everyone,” Jonah Keaton said suddenly, “please, come with me to the dining room. I can’t bear to be with her in this room any longer.”
Miranda took the opportunity as they moved
just one room down the hallway to take a good look at those gathered. Algernon was a slight man around thirty, and had appeared not to have worked a day in his life. His level of panic when he burst into his father’s study suggested to Miranda that, perhaps, he had been the one to love Lea.
The lawyer, the chef, the son of the investment millionaire, and Sapphire Moon-Flower. Quite the cast of characters.
As they settled into chairs around the table to await the arrival of the police, Miranda leaned in close to Sapphire. “Can you think of any reason why Lea might have been depressed?”
“No, as I said she wouldn’t tell me. I guess there were a couple of things worrying her. Whenever they met up here, I believe that Fiona picked on her a little, maybe even insulted her on occasion. And then there was Morgan,” Sapphire said vaguely, almost as if talking to herself.
Miranda exchanged a glance with Kyle, and then they both looked over at the chef. “Sapphire? What about Morgan?”
“I guess he hounded her little. But she wasn’t interested, you see. Anyway, I think it got a bit much for her and she mentioned it to Jonah. I’m surprised that Morgan still has his job here.”
Their talk was suddenly interrupted as Algernon Keaton grabbed Morgan and dragged him away, out of the dining room altogether. Before any of them could follow, there was the sound of a great struggle and the smacking sound of a punch being delivered.
By the time Miranda had raced out into the hallway, she could see Algernon shoving Morgan into an open door that led to some sort of closet. Shoving the door closed again he produced a set of keys from his pocket and locked the closet up tight. “There!” He shouted. “You can just stay there until the police come to arrest you, is what you can do!”
Miranda stared at him in amazement.
“And just who are you?” he almost spat the words at her. “Another one of my father’s charity cases, no doubt?”