Topaz Dreams

by Patricia Rice

  “That’s what I’m calling our resident ghost since my mother’s cousin seems to have been the last woman to live here,” Teddy explained.

  Resident ghost, right. Maybe he should mosey back to the car and return those calls.

  Teddy pointed at the pottery painting. “Look, this guy with the corroded eyeballs resembles the one stuffing a panel into his truck in the triptych. We can guess it’s Thompson. But all he’s doing here is carving clay.”

  “She dated the paintings.” Walker picked up the small primitive piece. “This is just signed Thalia, but if I’m reading the numbers right, it’s from about twenty years ago.”

  Teddy beat her fist in the air. “Got it in one! And that sounds right. My parents and their various cousins were children of the commune. Their parents settled here in Hillvale, and my parents were still living here when they married,” Teddy said. “I can vaguely remember dinner parties with colorful laughing people who got louder as the night progressed.”

  “Mom would come up, and if we weren’t asleep, she’d turn on the sound system to our room,” Syd said. “But I don’t remember visitors during the day, when the shop was open.”

  “That’s because you went to school in the valley with Mom, who worked all day, while I stayed with Dad,” Teddy reminded her. She turned a defiant look to Kurt. “We weren’t rich.”

  He glared right back. “Neither were we. My father was in debt over his head. So stuff it, Theodosia.”

  She grinned in a way that spun his head on its axis.

  “The lady keeps saying look,” Mia piped up.

  “What are the other dates?” Kurt asked, needing to return logic to this discussion before his libido overruled common sense. “Let’s develop a timeline.”

  “The primitive is the oldest, maybe from the time Teddy is remembering over twenty years ago. According to this date, Thalia’s cubist period was roughly five years after that,” Sam reported from her position on the floor. “Signature is the same. This dark nightmarish one with the kiln furnace and the evil eyes is the most recent, from ten years ago.”

  “The crystal corrodes after only ten years?” Kurt asked, but everyone shrugged. Okay, he got it—no one had done scientific research on crystal paint.

  “We can assume at least the last two were painted in the years Thalia was living in this house,” Teddy said, sitting down next to Sam. “The primitive could be a depiction of the tent city the Thompsons were living in before they moved in here. The realistic one was presumably painted before the furnace blew up, right before they left Hillvale. Still not seeing any clues.”

  Teddy turned the oldest canvas around to examine the back. “Maybe she left notes on the paper or hid clues behind the backing? Some artists paint over old works or re-stretch the canvas, blank side out, if they’re short of funds.”

  Sam held out her palm to Walker. “Pen knife, please.”

  Kurt produced his own, carefully slitting the brown paper backing on the nightmare painting. Walker did the same with the primitive one, then handed the pen knife to Sam to do the cubist.

  Mia started to whimper and cling more tightly to her mother’s neck. As if disturbed by the forces, Jeb and the dog wandered in. Harvey’s walking sticks clattered, but Kurt didn’t notice any more air disturbances. He crouched down beside Teddy, who examined the frame and back of the nightmare canvas.

  “Nothing,” she said in disappointment.

  Seeing squiggly trails across the stiff brown paper backing, afraid it might contain spiders or worse, Kurt lifted it away from her knees.

  Teddy snatched it before he could carry it off. “Wait a minute. Those look like pencil marks.” Standing, she took it over to the window.

  Which was when Kurt realized half the town still hung around outside, looking in. “Do I send for wine and cheese?” he asked dryly. “Or just Dinah’s donuts?”

  Sam uttered an expletive and handed her paper backing to him. “I need to get over to the café and help Dinah. I didn’t mean to linger. Let me know what you learn.”

  Carrying her walking stick, she strode out, talked to the crowd, and led them away like the pied piper.

  “How does she do that?” Teddy whispered, gesturing at Sam and her parade.

  “Magic,” Walker said in a low growl. “Which means we’ll have Cass or Val or one of the old witches here soon. What have you found?”

  Kurt grimaced at this prediction as much as at the filthy offering Sam had shoved at him. But curiosity ruled, and he studied what did indeed seem to be pencil scribbling. “I think we may need experts in hieroglyphics to decipher this,” he concluded. “The pencil has faded to almost nothing.”

  “Yeah, same here.” Walker turned his small piece back and forth to catch the light. “It looks like handwriting, but it’s pretty bad.”

  “This one is the most recent,” Teddy said with excitement. “I can make out words. There are dates, like in a diary. Maybe they’re journals of the time she painted these?”

  “Or they’re recipes,” Syd said dryly. “Take them out in the sunlight and see if that draws your entity out of here. I want to take the kids down the street, in case there are any revelations that cause Daisy’s guardians to go flying again.”

  At hearing her name, Daisy hauled herself off the floor and lumbered over, speaking more lucidly than Kurt had ever heard her.

  “We’re having a farewell party at the camp after Lucinda finishes her painting. We’re gathering crystals to send with her. Do you have any left?”

  Kurt had no idea how to react to crazy talk. Even Teddy froze. And then she threw a glance at Walker, who was scowling. Kurt couldn’t blame him there.

  “Is the sheriff done with the crystals we found with Thalia?” Teddy asked.

  “They could be evidence. He’ll hold them until we solve this case.”

  “Lucinda doesn’t like the red ones,” Daisy said with a shrug. “She says the blue are purer, but I’m all out. I’ll see if I can find more.”

  With that weird statement, she wandered out. Kurt watched as she climbed into the golf cart. Dressed in her usual black veil, Sam’s aunt, Valdis, floated down the street to join her.

  “The lady likes Daisy,” Mia said from her mother’s arms. “Can we go and play now?”

  “Please tell me ghosts and crazies are safer than the real world,” Syd pleaded before taking Jeb by the hand and heading for the back door, Prince Hairy in tow.

  Kurt didn’t have time to wonder what real world was more dangerous than ghosts and crazies before he spotted his half-aunt, Cassandra, striding down the street. The day was about to go from hell to worse.

  Teddy had partially opened to the bombardment of emotions in the front room, trying to monitor an absurdity so far beyond her experience that she didn’t know up from down. Flying figurines and Mia’s screams had terrified her, until she’d learned to catch the wind—or steady Thalia’s incoherent rage—by spinning in circles.

  Kurt was the one solid factor in the whole scenario. Not believing in the supernatural, he apparently analyzed the impossible rather than succumb to fear. His calmness in the face of the emotional tempest had been wonderfully steadying.

  The arrival of Cass shut him down to the point of knocking Teddy off balance, as if she’d actually been leaning on him.

  Wow. He had a mental and emotional super-blocker even better than her own. Why? Most people had no need to block what they didn’t know existed.

  Had he learned to protect himself against Cass?

  Kurt’s half-aunt certainly knew how to protect herself. Teddy could barely sense her opening the door. Their resident ghost evaporated the moment Cass crossed the threshold.

  “I’ll have to take this paper down to the sheriff. It could be evidence,” Walker said, starting to roll up the piece he held.

  “You’ll do no such thing,” Cass responded curtly, without greeting any of them. “Those paintings belong to the community, as does all the artwork Daisy keeps stored. We will restore
them and allow you to peruse them as needed.”

  “Possession being nine-tenths of the law,” Kurt contradicted his aunt’s imperious pronouncement, “I’d say the paintings belong to Sam and Valdis since, as I understand it, they’re stored on the Ingersson farm. At the very least, these three belong to Teddy’s family, since the artist is her relation.”

  Teddy stepped in between Cass and Kurt before an argument could ensue. “Do we have people in Hillvale who can restore and preserve the paper backing? The oils aren’t difficult. The sheriff doesn’t need those, and Syd and I can handle cleaning. But the paper could contain valuable evidence.”

  Her Inner Monitor picked up nothing from either Kurt or Cass, forcing her to read their body language. Cass held her thin frame stiffly. Kurt rolled his fists belligerently. But she couldn’t read if hostility was the cause or simple unwillingness to give in to each other. Kurt had explained the old grudges between Lucys and Nulls. Maybe he was right to be wary, but he needed to accept that Cass held a very large key to the town population.

  The old woman shot her an unreadable look, almost as if she knew Teddy was testing her. Teddy held out the dusty backing, and Cass ran her long bony finger over it.

  “Cleaning, fixative, and bright light, all of them available in my studio,” she stated flatly. “Bring them along, Chief Walker. You can make copies when we’re done.”

  She walked out again, as if expecting everyone to follow.

  Teddy felt Kurt stiffen and knew he was about to reject Cass’s offer. She grabbed his arm and forced him to lean down to hear her whisper. “I won’t let her turn you into a frog. Come along, let’s make sure she doesn’t magically burn anything. Maybe we’ll find out if a ghost can name a killer.”

  He gave her a chocolate-brown glare. She beamed. And physical awareness drove them out into the light of day after the others.

  Samantha

  June 30: early afternoon

  * * *

  Sam cast a glance at the shimmering ghost-catcher in the front corner of the café, frowned and checked out the front window. “Cass just arrived. And Kurt must still be over at Teddy’s.”

  Mariah untied her apron.

  “Where are you going?” Sam poured water for the last of the lunch rush. “We need to help Dinah clean up.”

  “Teddy has no idea what she’s getting into if she stands between Super-Null and Cass. We need her to stay in Hillvale, not run screaming for civilization.” Mariah leaned through the kitchen doorway and called to Dinah. “I’m heading up the hill. I’ll come back later and finish up. You put your feet up for a while and listen for explosions.”

  Samantha worriedly reached for her own apron ties. “Walker’s over there. He’s a Null. I don’t want him running back to civilization either.”

  “You anchor him, and he doesn’t have an emotional vampire for a mother as far as I’m aware. Kurt and Monty. . . Well, let’s just say they’ve had to develop super-abilities to stay alive. Cass doesn’t respect boundaries.” Mariah grabbed her staff and headed for the door.

  “You’re worried about my uncle?” Sam threw off her apron and grabbed her walking stick.

  “Cass lived inside your head for how many days? What do you think?” Mariah hurried down the boardwalk. Daisy and Val sped by in their cart. Intentionally or otherwise, they always left trouble in their wake.

  When the small party left Teddy’s carrying rolls of brown paper, headed in the direction of the cemetery, Sam broke into a run. “Kurt’s head will explode if he goes inside Cass’s place.”

  “Damn, what is Cass thinking? We have to turn him back.” Mariah dashed after her.

  Nineteen

  June 30: early afternoon

  * * *

  “Hey, Kurt, Monty is trying to reach you!”

  Kurt turned to see Sam and Mariah racing after the party marching up the hill to Cass’s place. Why did this picture not compute?

  Because Sam and Mariah seldom spoke to Kurt if it could be avoided.

  He halted, scowling. “I’m not letting your coven take off with evidence. Walker doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”

  “I resent that,” Walker called back without inflection from the lead of their little procession. “I just see no reason to take these papers to the state lab if Cass can process them in a more timely manner.”

  Kurt would have preferred the state solution if it meant keeping Cass’s weird madness out of it, but he wasn’t trespassing on Walker’s territory just because he didn’t trust his damned half-aunt. He was here because of Teddy, right? Because he wanted in her bed—not because he was worried about her, because he had no reason to worry about a woman who would move on in a few months. Right?

  And maybe he was a little curious about the illegible writing.

  Cass continued up the hill, head high, disregarding the argument. She didn’t deign to carry any of the backing papers but had left them in Walker and Teddy’s charge.

  Teddy stopped to wait for Mariah and Sam. “Coven?” she asked when they caught up.

  “That’s what the Nulls call us when they’re being nasty,” Mariah explained, giving Kurt the evil eye. “We’re not witches. We’re not even Wiccans. And Walker and Teddy are perfectly capable of keeping an eye on whatever you think you’ve found. But if you don’t want to talk to Monty —” She shrugged and started up the hill after Cass.

  Teddy placed a hand on Kurt’s arm. Her touch oddly steadied him. “If it’s important, would you like us to wait until you’ve talked to your brother?” she asked.

  “Nothing is as important as discovering why there were bones in your attic,” Kurt responded dismissively. “Sam, if you’re worried, tell Monty where I am. He can come find me.”

  His niece bit her bottom lip and looked uncertainly from him to Walker. That blew it. Kurt started marching up the hill. “Whatever Mariah told you is just the usual Lucy nonsense. You’re a scientist, Sam. Work it out.”

  “Will someone please explain what’s happening?” Teddy insisted, running after him. “Sam and Mariah are really worried. And even though you repress everything, I can tell you’re not happy. If Cass has the equipment we need, why is everyone on edge?”

  “I repress everything?” Kurt lifted his eyebrows. “Really?”

  She smacked his arm. “Emotion, then. Lust is not emotion. It’s a physical reaction.”

  “Damned right. I am not a Lucy and have no need to express hysteria.” He didn’t think Sam was inclined to it either, but she was clinging worriedly to Walker’s arm as they continued up the hill in the direction of the graveyard and Cass’s home.

  He’d never been inside his aunt’s house. His mother would have another nervous breakdown if she knew he was even headed in this direction.

  “Cass has this crazy garden shed that looks like it ought to fall over any minute,” Walker said, speaking over his shoulder. “But inside, it looks like every modern gardener’s dream. She caters to illusion, so be wary.”

  “I’m feeling a weird energy up here,” Teddy called up to them. “Is this where the vortex is? My parents never let us play in the cemetery.”

  Kurt wanted to growl at this inanity about an invisible hole in the ground, but he kept his mouth shut and his eye on Cass and the evidence. He wouldn’t be sucked in by illusion.

  Sam gestured to the left. “The vortex is in a natural amphitheater on the other side of that hill. I can’t feel the energy unless I have my walking stick with me.” She held up a wooden staff with a crystal gleaming in the handle. “Maybe you have a natural energy sensitivity because you were born up here?”

  “I haven’t given any thought to where I was born. I just figured in a hospital, of which Hillvale has none, I now realize,” Teddy said dryly. “Where were you born?”

  “My birth certificate says San Francisco. I’m adopted, but my birth parents are from here.”

  His niece had been born to a half-brother Kurt had never known, a brother Cass had raised as her own—another th
ing his parents had neglected to tell him. He should stay in his office where he belonged. He didn’t need the family’s dysfunctional history discussed by one and all. Some things were meant to be private.

  Teddy tilted her head to look up at Kurt. “Can you feel the vortex energy? Or were you born in San Francisco too?”

  “This is a ridiculous topic. I grew up in the city. That’s where my family is from. So is Cass’s. Hillvale was just wasteland my grandmother’s family owned and was never more than a summer retreat when we were kids.” Kurt studied the tall Victorian house they approached. “My grandfather built a hunting lodge back in the fifties and invited his friends up here. There was probably a gas station and a lot of deserted buildings.”

  “A ghost town,” she said in satisfaction. “Cool.”

  Kurt snorted. “That’s one way of looking at it. Life would have been simpler if he’d just stayed in the city, where we belong.” He nodded at Cass’s house. “That’s a bad imitation of the house Cass’s family lived in back on Nob Hill. She stayed with her mother’s family after her mother died and my grandfather remarried.”

  Mariah and Cass waited on the wrap-around porch. Kurt despised the shadowy pine-lined drive that blocked out sun and air, hid half the house from view, and created the kind of ominous atmosphere Cass cultivated.

  It didn’t seem to bother anyone else. They eagerly picked up the pace.

  Cass’s gaze focused coldly on him. “My studio is around the side. We’ll go in there.”

  “She doesn’t trust you,” Teddy whispered as they walked around to the side of the house. “Why?”

  “How do you know that? I barely know the woman.” Kurt hung back as Cass unlocked a side door and sailed inside, leaving them to follow.

  “Maybe because you don’t know her, and you live all of three miles away! Honestly, I’ll never understand families.” She dragged him along after the others.

  Kurt wondered if good sex was worth whatever calamity was in store for him when word got out that he’d actually crossed Cass’s portal.