Wishbones

CHAPTER TWELVE

Another day in paradise was concluding, and I returned to the mansion with a mental list of people to talk to. Ricardo was right at the top, but I wanted to catch him away from his dad.

Tinkie, Chablis, and Sweetie were at the beach. I walked to the edge of the gardens and looked down to see her and the dogs scurrying around castle rock. It took me a moment to realize that the slick body in the surf wasn’t a dolphin-Graf was in scuba gear examining the portions of the rock that were underwater.

They were looking for clues. My heart surged with warmth. Graf really seemed to care about me. And Tinkie, well, she was the best friend ever.

We were an odd couple for a business team. When I’d first come home, licking my wounds and in dire financial circumstances, I’d failed to see past the Daddy’s Girl exterior that Tinkie projected.

I’d sold her short.

But she was far more than her five-carat engagement ring, her banker husband, and her Dun & Bradstreet report. Tinkie, for all of her slavish devotion to glamour and fashion, was smart. And loyal. And caring.

Watching her and Graf and the dogs, I again thanked whatever lucky stars had brought her into my life. I’d lost a lot, but I’d also gained.

Tinkie and Graf went into a huddle, and then they packed it in and started back toward the mansion. I changed into some cool shorts, sandals, and a sleeveless T-shirt and went down to greet them.

Graf swung me into his arms, making me giddy with laughter, as Tinkie looked on with approval. “It’s good to see you happy, Sarah Booth.” She punched Graf’s arm lightly. “I never thought this celluloid playboy could do it, but I was wrong. I think he’s good for you.”

“And she’s good for me,” Graf said.

“And we all have to be good detectives to get this whole mess resolved.” I put my arms around their waists as we walked to the front door. When I told them my plan, they readily agreed.

Tinkie distracted Federico, while I talked to Ricardo. Graf was going to the third floor to see if Sally and Dallas had heard or seen anything unusual.

Ricardo had a room on the second floor in another wing from my room. I knocked on his door, half expecting that he wouldn’t be in.

The door swung open and he stood there, shirtless, in a pair of shorts. Like his father, he was handsome, and he knew it. While his conduct on the set was impeccable, I’d heard he was something of a rake and a scoundrel with the young women who were part of the crew.

“Dad send you to talk to me?” he asked, leaving the door open so I could enter or not.

“No. Why would he?”

He flashed his perfect white teeth. “Because Dad doesn’t like confrontation of any kind.”

“And what have you been doing that would lead to a confrontation?”

“Sleeping with Dallas. Dad is afraid if I dump her she’ll quit in the middle of the film.” His grin was just a hair too smug.

“Your father has legitimate concerns, Ricardo. No one likes to be used like garbage.” Dallas was a beautiful young woman. She could have her pick of any number of men, but Ricardo could make her feel like trash in a ditch.

He shrugged, picked an apple from a table, and bit into it with a loud crack. “I’m giving her what she wants.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Come on, you older people don’t get it. We hooked up. She knows that. When we get back to Los Angeles, she’ll go her way and I’ll go mine. That’s how it is.” He took another huge bite of apple.

“As long as she knows that upfront. We ‘older people’ and most younger ones, too, like to know the rules before we begin the game.” I wasn’t insulted by his rudeness. In terms of maturity, the fourteen years between us was a huge distance. He was handsome, privileged, and felt entitled. “I didn’t come to talk about Dallas. I want to ask you some questions about your sister.”

“Estelle, the psycho queen?” He took the last large bite of the fruit and tossed the core into a garbage can. “What’s she done now?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Ah, hiding in the attic?” He grinned big, proud of what he viewed as his cleverness.

It was peculiar, but I’d talked to Ricardo before, and he hadn’t been such a jackass. “Do you know where Estelle is?” I asked patiently. “Federico is worried about her and so am I.”

The mask of superiority dropped for a moment. “Why? What’s she done now?”

“Nothing, for sure. She’s not answering her cell phone.” I wasn’t certain how to proceed. I’d expected Ricardo to be more cooperative. Our prior conversations had been pleasant; now there was antagonism.

“Sometimes she gets down and doesn’t want to talk to people,” he said. “Maybe she wants to be left alone.”

“That’s a reason for concern. This anger she carries toward your father could be…” I let the sentence fade. He’d supply his own ending.

“She’ll be fine. She’s just pissed about the house. He could have asked her, you know.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know any of the details. What I’d like to know is how stable is your sister?”

He dropped all pretense of being the smartass he’d been earlier. Motioning to a comfortable chair for me, he sat down on the floor. “Look, Estelle has her ups and downs, but she’s not going to harm herself.”

“Could she harm someone else?”

That really got his attention. “She likes to pretend to be crazier than she is.”

“Someone tried to drown me last night. It wasn’t kidding around. Joey was seriously hurt in that fall. Another woman associated with your father in Los Angeles is dead.”

“And you think Estelle is doing all of that?” The idea shocked him.

“I didn’t come to tell you what I thought. I want to know what you think.”

“What does Dad say?”

“What do you think, Ricardo? Tell me that and then we’ll talk about Federico.”

He considered for a long moment, one hand aimlessly brushing up and down his shin. “She hated Suzy Dutton. She thought…” He looked at me, suddenly much younger than his twenty years. “Estelle wasn’t rational about sex. She has it in her head that Mom died because of Dad and his liaisons with other women.”

“And why did your mother die?”

“She hated herself.”

It was a pretty succinct summation of the terrible disease that had killed Carlita. “Does Estelle know this?”

“In her heart she does, but she won’t admit it. If she accepted that Mom was mentally ill, that Mom starved herself to death, then she’d have to forgive Dad.” He sighed, suddenly tired. “This is all so boring.”

“If Estelle is trying to sabotage Federico’s film, we’re going to have to stop her before she really hurts someone.”

“Good luck. She knows this house inside and out. Grandfather showed her all of the secret passages, the places he had built into it just for her.”

I’d been curious about this. “Why would he construct a house like that?”

“He liked puzzles. He liked playing games with us when we were children. He could hide and we would never find him. He enjoyed that.” He was smiling as he talked. “Estelle adored him. He gave her his undivided attention and I think the only time she really felt loved was when she was with him.”

“I’ve never heard Federico talk of him.”

“For good reason. Dad and Granddad hated each other. Pappy Estoban didn’t believe Dad was good enough for his daughter. He did everything he could to break them up before they married. He told me once that if Mom hadn’t married Dad, she would be alive and happily married.”

“And I suppose he told Estelle the same thing?”

Federico lifted a shoulder and let it drop. “When Dad moved us to California, Pappy was furious. He tried to get the police to stop Dad from taking Mom and us. He had Dad arrested. It was awful.”

I could only imagine the horror of that scene to a child-caught between the grandfather she loved and the family she felt didn’t love her.

As sorry as I felt for Estelle, I still had to know if she was capable of harming another person. “Estelle went to a private boarding school, as you did. Was she ever in trouble?”

His gaze dropped and I knew he was thinking about lying. For all of his sexual suavity, he wasn’t as sophisticated as he thought.

“Tell me the truth, Ricardo. I’m not out to harm Estelle, but if she is behind some of these things, she has to be stopped.”

“Why don’t you ask Dad about this?”

I considered my answer, but I told him the truth. “Whatever Estelle thinks of her father, he’s doing everything he can to divert suspicion from her. I’m afraid he’d color the truth to protect her.”

“And you figured I’d be a stool pigeon?” He was quick to insult.

“No, I figured you’d want to help your sister and could see that the truth was the best way to get there.”

He rose to his feet in one fluid movement. “How about a banana? They’re fresh from a plantation not far from here.”

“Sure.” The bananas available in Petaluma were totally different creatures from the ones in supermarkets.

He brought back two and began to peel his. I thought perhaps he was going to ignore my request, but he began talking. “Estelle was expelled from one school for a stunt she pulled that resulted in injury to another girl. It was harmless, but it looked bad then and it could also look bad now.”

“What happened?”

“No one knows the exact details, because Estelle would never talk about it. Not even to defend herself. But Lisa, a girl in her dormitory, fell from a second-floor window. The headmaster said Estelle put Lisa up to edging out on the brickwork and pretending that she was going to jump. This was a diversion so Estelle could sneak out of the dormitory.”

“She was trying to get home?”

“Yeah.” He ate the banana. “She was miserable at boarding school. She hated being away from Mom, and she hated the other girls.”

“You went away to school also. Was it like that for you?”

“It was okay for me.” He took my peel and tossed it in the trash. “I hated being at home and I made friends easily. For Estelle, it was torture. She was shy and self-conscious, and she had this need to be at home to protect Mom.” His laugh was bitter. “She didn’t understand that no one could protect Mom from Mom.”

“How seriously was her classmate injured?”

“Two broken legs. Nothing fatal.”

“I’m guessing she slipped?”

“Yeah. There was never any doubt about that. Estelle was already headed out the gate of the school where she’d finagled a ride to the train station. She was held accountable, though, for thinking up the plan.”

Estelle had a cunning mind and an interesting ability to get others to go along with her plans. Had she convinced Suzy Dutton to meet her in the canyon so she could push her over the cliff?

That reminded me that I needed to check in with Sheriff King to see what the final determination in Suzy’s death was.

“If you hear from your sister, will you let me know?”

“Sure. But I’m going to tell her you’re looking for her. I’m not going to betray her.”

That wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it wasn’t worth an argument. “Fine. Tell her to please call me or your father. On a related topic, do you know who damaged the cameras on the first day of shooting?”

“That was probably Estelle. She all but said she’d done it. Lucky for Dad she doesn’t know enough about cameras to really tear one up.”

“Yeah, lucky.” I rose and walked to the door. With my hand on the frame, I paused. “Ricardo, have you seen anyone strange here in the house?”

He rolled his eyes. “The ghost?”

I nodded.

“Dallas and Sally were asking me about it, too. There’s some old story that this house is haunted. My grandfather would love that. Heck, he may have started it.”

“Do you know who supposedly haunts the house?”

“Estelle always believed it was Mom. Some people say it’s a woman in a dark dress, which sounds like the portrait of Mom in the room you’re in. I think people want a little thrill, so they see a shadow and create this whole legend.”

“So you haven’t seen the ghost and you don’t believe there is one?”

“That sums it up.”

“Thanks.” I hurried down the corridor toward my room. At the stairs that led to the third floor, I hesitated. It was late in the day. Graf had gone to talk to Sally and Dallas, but he was surely finished by now. The third floor, by all rights, should be empty.

I took my shoes off and crept up the stairs. A lot of mysterious things were happening on the third floor. Disappearing ghosts, locked-up dogs. It was hard to snoop when people were going to and fro to costume and makeup. This was a perfect opportunity.

I eased into the hallway and listened. I heard only silence, except for the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes that still hung outside.

Moving silently along the wall, I paused before each door to listen. If Estelle was hiding in the house, she was quiet as a church mouse. I thought I heard a dull pounding, but it was only my heartbeat in my ears. The silence was downright scary. I’d never heard a house so soundless, as if even the past had been sucked from it.

The doors to the ballroom were open, and I glanced around, half hoping someone was still working in costume or makeup. I’d managed to frighten myself just a tad, and some company would have been welcome.

White screens made small dressing rooms that were like ghostly alcoves all over the huge room. Dresses and outfits hung on dressmaker dummies, giving the illusion that someone was there. It was a creepy place. I was about to leave when I heard a soft thumping sound. This time I knew it wasn’t my imagination.

I couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like kicking. Or something thudding, step by step, down a flight of stairs.

Something really awful was nagging at the back of my mind, but I pushed hard to keep it submerged.

Walking through the sheet-draped alcoves, I felt like every idiotic teen in every idiotic teen horror movie. I’d sat in many an audience screaming, “Don’t go up the stairs! Don’t open the door! Don’t go in the laundry room!” And yet here I was, walking through a room that looked like a set for some psycho lurker to jump out and grab me.

I heard the thudding again, but it seemed neither closer nor farther away. In the maze of the screens, I’d lost my bearings in the huge room. I kept walking, slowly, moving and wishing that Tinkie or Graf or Sweetie or Chablis would appear and laugh at my foolishness. I’d just spied the exit and began to make my way there and back to the safety of the second floor when the strange notes of a pianoforte came from a corner of the ballroom.

In the times I’d been in costume and makeup, I’d never noticed such an instrument. The skin on the back of my neck and my arms marched crazily around in goose bumps.

I recognized the tune, though I couldn’t name it.

A woman’s voice, low and sultry, began to sing, “Hush, hush, sweet Charlotte.”

My blood literally ran cold. I knew that song. The movie had terrorized me as a child when “John’s” head tumbles down the stairs and lands at Bette Davis’s feet.

That was the thudding. That was the sound. John’s head thumping step by step as it rolled to the bottom!

I wheeled and spun to beat it back to the second floor when I heard a delicious giggle, warm and rich.

There was something about that giggle that stopped me. It came again, far too amused to be dangerous. I knew who it was.

“Jitty!” I’d been had by a haint. “Jitty, you’d better show yourself!”

She came out from behind one of the screens wearing the layered tulle ball gown that Bette Davis had worn in the movie. The front of the dress was covered in a huge bloodstain.

“John!” She came toward me holding out bloody hands. “John! Don’t leave me!”

“Stop it.” I backed away from her. I couldn’t help it, even though I knew she wasn’t “Charlotte.” She was thoroughly convincing.

She wiped her hands on the gown. “See, you’re not the only Delaney who can act. You should see your face. You thought my heel whackin’ the floor was ole John’s head tumblin’ along, didn’t you?”

“If you weren’t dead I’d probably kill you.” I was exasperated and panting from fear, but I was also glad to see her. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching out for you.”

“Thanks. You’ve got a real unique way of showing it.” I took a deep breath and regained my composure. “Got any good tips for me?”

She looked around the room. “There’s something really strange about this house. I haven’t gotten a handle on it yet, but I’ll get back with you. In the meantime, you’d better check in with that man of yours. He’s looking for you.”

She shimmered away, and before she was completely gone, I heard Graf calling my name.

“Be right there!” I yelled and beat it out the door before I had a chance to get lost again.