Dead Man Talking Page 4

  “You don’t ramble.” It was true that sometimes a lot of what Sapphire said was “out there” as far as regular people believed, but she never rambled. She definitely snored.

  Sapphire waved a hand in dismissal. “You’re just being nice. Speaking of rambling, has Cornelius shown himself yet?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zoe said. “Is he the Maine coon with the green eyes?” That was one of Sapphire’s cats that Zoe hadn’t recognized.

  “Cornelius isn’t a cat. He’s a ghost.”

  Zoe’s conversation with her aunt ran through her mind a million times on the way back to the lighthouse. A ghost. That declaration from her aunt was hardly the oddest thing Sapphire had ever said, and normally Zoe would have smiled and nodded and then immediately dismissed it as more of Sapphire’s woo-woo stuff. The problem was that her aunt’s description of Cornelius the Talkative Ghost exactly matched the man Zoe had seen that morning going down the stairs.

  Zoe had been ready to dismiss the sighting as a hallucination or even a waking dream, but Sapphire had thrown a huge monkey wrench into that plan. Now Zoe was left with accepting that the lighthouse was haunted by a half-clothed ghost or that her aunt had developed the ability to make Zoe see things that weren’t there.

  She wasn’t sure which was worse.

  But none of that mattered right now. What mattered now was getting food, real clothes, and the Kindle back to Sapphire and making sure she was as comfortable as one could manage in a hospital. When she’d left that morning, Zoe had hoped she wouldn’t be returning to the lighthouse until after Dane had called it quits for the day, but now she could see the folly of that thought. Sapphire was right. She couldn’t sit around the hospital all day. Her aunt needed to rest, and Zoe brooding in a chair next to Sapphire’s bed wouldn’t be restful for either of them.

  Her options now were to spend part of the time downtown in the midst of festival craziness or locked up in the lighthouse with the man she’d never gotten over. At least the lighthouse had rooms with doors and locks. She could always feign needing to lie down or work that needed addressing or an overwhelming desire to knit. Well, maybe the knitting was taking it a little too far, but common sense dictated that Dane was there to work and he wouldn’t have the time or inclination to butt into her business. She could just go about regular things and he could finish up her aunt’s kitchen.

  His truck was still parked out front and she pulled beside it. She retrieved her suitcase from the trunk, not about to spend another morning rummaging for clean clothes, and headed inside with it. Dane was measuring a spot on the floor and looked up when she walked in.

  “How is Sapphire?” he asked. “Did you see the doctor?”

  Zoe nodded and repeated the doctor’s prognosis to Dane.

  “That’s a relief,” he said. “I was really worried. Sapphire’s in good shape for her age, but a fall like that could hurt anyone.” He looked down and spied the suitcase. “Let me take that up for you.”

  “That’s okay. It’s not that heavy and I don’t want to interrupt your work. That tile is beautiful. Sapphire is going to be so happy with her new kitchen.”

  “I hope so.”

  He stared at her for a couple of very uncomfortable seconds, and she could tell he wanted to tell her something but wasn’t sure how to say it. The last time she’d seen that look, he’d dumped her, which made her completely uninterested in whatever conversation he thought he wanted to have right now.

  “Well, I’ve got to run,” she said. “I have to gather up some things for Sapphire and get back to the hospital.”

  She started across the living room for the stairs, and he stepped out of the kitchen and in front of her.

  “Wait,” he said. “There’s something I have to show you.”

  He moved past her to the coffee table and picked up a penlight and can of Mace. “What you said about Sapphire not going downstairs in her nightclothes bothered me. I forgot to tell you that when I arrived the lights were all off. There was no storm, so power shouldn’t have been an issue. I couldn’t figure out why the lights weren’t on.”

  He moved to the bottom of the stairs. “I found her laid out here like this, with her arms out above her head, like she was trying to get her balance. I thought if she was holding a flashlight, she would have dropped it when it fell.”

  Suddenly, Zoe understood what Dane was trying to tell her. “Sapphire was carrying the penlight and Mace. The floor is uneven. They rolled under the couch, right?”

  He nodded. “That’s where I found them.”

  “Oh my God.” Zoe covered her mouth with her hands. “I knew something was wrong.”

  “But what?”

  “Something serious enough that she came down here with Mace. You said you called the sheriff’s department?”

  “Yeah, for what it’s worth. Sheriff Bull sent September over. I requested February, but she’s been partial to September lately so he gets priority when it comes to the work.”

  Zoe stared. “What kind of names are September and February? Have I missed some newfangled Everlasting tradition?”

  Dane sighed. “Worse. Sheriff Bull is having what the local women are calling a midlife crisis. She’s decided the focus of her crisis is surrounding herself with young, muscular men. She acquired so many that she decided to do a calendar of them as a fund-raiser. Since they’re all from other cities, and we figure this phase will pass, we’ve decided it’s easier to refer to them by month rather than learn all their names.”

  “I think I’m going to have a crisis just from listening to that. Do any of those calendar boys have law enforcement training?”

  Dane shrugged. “I asked for the one I thought seemed the most intelligent, but since I’ve only spent a handful of seconds talking to maybe five or six of them, it’s not much to go on.”

  “Good God. Okay, I’m going to call the sheriff and ask for…February?”

  Dane nodded. “Just so you know, I took a look around earlier. All the window locks are in working condition and locked position. I’m going to make a trip to the hardware store this afternoon and change out the door locks, unless you have an objection.”

  Relief and appreciation coursed through Zoe. “Thank you. That makes me feel much better, especially being here alone. Sapphire has always been too loose with handing out keys to everyone. I tried to tell her, but you know how she is.”

  “She trusts and likes everyone.”

  “She doesn’t like everyone, but she is too trusting. I really appreciate you doing this. Let me know the cost of the locks so I can repay you.”

  “No way. I want to do this. I don’t want you scared when you’re here to focus on taking care of Sapphire, and I don’t want Sapphire leaving that hospital and afraid in her own home.”

  Zoe’s jaw clenched. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

  The deputy who stepped out of the car looked every bit the part of a calendar model. He flashed Zoe a hundred-watt smile and strode toward her, his clingy and probably one-size-too-small uniform displaying every inch of his ripped body.

  “You must be Ms. Parker,” he said, and stuck out his hand. “I’m February.”

  Zoe glanced back at Dane, who had covered his mouth with his hand to block the smile.

  “You refer to yourself as February?” she asked. “You don’t find this entire calendar thing demeaning?”

  “No way!” he said. “I find it flattering. Besides, my mom named me Clifford. February is a huge step up.”

  “All right,” Zoe said, “Would you like to come inside?”

  “If you don’t mind,” February said, “I’d rather stay out here. I’ve been cooped up in that office with a bunch of people all day.”

  “Fine, then let’s get down to business,” Zoe said. “You are aware of the situation with my aunt Esmerelda, correct?”

  The deputy frowned. “Is that Ms. Sapphire? If so, then I’m aware that she fell down her stairs and is currently in the hospital. Sheriff Bull infor
med me that September processed the scene but didn’t find anything to indicate a crime had occurred. Have you found something that negates his assessment?”

  Zoe blinked. Of all the things she’d expected after her introduction to a man who preferred to be referred to as a month of the year, the last thing was literacy and the second to last was the possibility of competence. Maybe Dane had called this one correctly.

  Feeling somewhat better about the prospects of help from law enforcement, Zoe launched into her explanation beginning with the mystery of the nightclothes and ending with Dane’s find.

  “So I feel that someone was in my aunt’s house,” Zoe said. “And that’s why she went downstairs in her nightclothes. What I can’t be certain of, unless she remembers, is if she tripped or if she was helped.”

  February looked momentarily taken aback. “I don’t think someone would have pushed Ms. Parker down the stairs.”

  Working for a news station had left Zoe less optimistic about human nature than Deputy February. She tried again. “But you agree that my aunt went downstairs to investigate, and she must have suspected or even known that it was a person or people or she wouldn’t have carried Mace with her.”

  February nodded. “It appears that Ms. Parker was afraid someone might be in her house, but if she knew for certain, why wouldn’t she call the sheriff’s department?”

  “Have you met my aunt?” Zoe asked. “Spent more than five minutes around her? She’s the most stubborn individual in the world.”

  “Second most,” Dane said, and coughed.

  Zoe glared at him, then looked back at February. “She’s lived alone in the lighthouse more years than I’ve been on this earth. The mere suggestion that she could be intimidated in her own home would be enough to prevent her from calling the cops.”

  “She’s right,” Dane agreed. “Sapphire puts a whole new spin on independence.”

  “So in running with the assumption that someone was in her house,” Zoe continued, “what I don’t know is why. She has nothing of value any more than the average person, and the lighthouse is a little out of the way to come steal a television or a DVD player.”

  “So what do you think they were after?” February asked, erasing all of Zoe’s previous hope that law enforcement might be able to help.

  Zoe threw her hands in the air. “How would I know? That’s why I called you. Have there been problems with robberies? A ring of cat thieves operating in the area? Anything at all that you can suggest that explains why my aunt is in the hospital?”

  February shook his head. “There hasn’t been any home theft at all in the last year that I can recall. Just petty stuff from stores. Mostly kids. And I’m pretty sure there aren’t any cat thieving rings.” His eyes widened. “Hey, I bet it was tourists. You know, because of the festival.”

  “You think tourists entered my aunt’s house in the middle of the night?” Zoe asked. “Even if they managed to acquire a key, why in the world would tourists do that?”

  “Because of its reputation,” February said. “Everyone knows that this place is magical. People say if you make a wish and plant a penny here, your wish will be granted.”

  Zoe barely managed to hold in a groan. Despite being an outsider, February had been corrupted by the local myths and legends.

  “And if my aunt had reported strangers on her lawn with shovels and a handful of pennies,” Zoe said, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation. That still wouldn’t explain why someone was inside her house.”

  “Maybe they figured the magic was stronger there,” February said, his completely straight face erasing any hope Zoe had that he was joking.

  She decided to try another tactic. “Doesn’t that sound a little dangerous to you? Especially if we go with your tourist theory? I mean, what if my aunt had gone downstairs with a nine-millimeter and opened fire? That’s a big risk to take just to leave a penny on the kitchen counter.”

  February looked slightly horrified. “This is Maine, not LA. In LA you probably have toddlers with concealed carry licenses, but that sort of thing doesn’t happen here in Everlasting.”

  “Actually,” Zoe said, her patience completely spent, “licensing for toddlers only occurs in places like Texas. In LA they give them a stolen pistol before they put them on the street corner to deal meth.”

  Dane started choking and turned the opposite direction. “Sorry,” he said, and held up his hand. “Swallowed a bug.”

  “You should get some water,” February said, then turned back to face Zoe. “Look, Ms. Parker, I can appreciate what you’re saying. Maybe your aunt heard someone inside her house, but we didn’t find any evidence of such. Unless her memory returns and she can verify someone was inside the house, I don’t think there’s anything else we can do.”

  “Neither do I,” Zoe said, in complete agreement that there was absolutely nothing local law enforcement could do if this was indeed the best of the batch. “Thank you for your time, Deputy.”

  “Let me know if you come up with anything solid,” February said. “And I’ll revisit this whole thing.”

  “That would be splendid,” Zoe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s an oven I need to go stick my head inside.”

  “You should tell your aunt to upgrade to one of those self-cleaning ones,” February said. “They’re a lot easier.”

  He waved goodbye to Dane, jumped in his car, and left.

  Zoe looked over at Dane, who had collapsed against the side of his truck, no longer bothering to hold in his laughter.

  “Not one word,” she said.

  Chapter Four

  Zoe headed into the hospital, loaded down with bags and frustration. The bags all contained items for her aunt. The frustration was because of her aunt. How many times had she told Sapphire not to hand out keys to her home like Halloween candy? But Zoe knew that at some point in time, probably half of Everlasting had possession of a key to her place. Making the whole “no sign of forced entry” a moot point. And despite what Deputy Pecs wanted to believe, Zoe didn’t think for one moment that tourists had acquired a key to her aunt’s house and entered in the middle of the night to leave pennies for magical wish-granting. In fact, that might be the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard, and having grown up in Everlasting, that was saying a lot.

  As she entered Sapphire’s room, her aunt looked up with a smile that quickly dissipated as she took in Zoe’s haggard appearance.

  “Why is your hair all wet?” Sapphire asked. “There wasn’t a report of a storm on the news.”

  “That’s because according to Everlasting’s incredibly observant weatherman, there are no storms currently in the area. Yet standing right in your front yard, I got caught in a veritable downpour. I was soaked before I could get into the house, and the instant I stepped inside, it quit. I took time to change, but didn’t bother with my hair.”

  “That’s odd,” Sapphire said. “Was anything unusual happening at the time?”

  “You mean like thunder or lightning or a collection of dark clouds or a weather report that held any indication of rain? No.”

  “Why were you standing outside?”

  “Because I’d just finished talking to the utterly and completely useless Deputy February.”

  Sapphire straightened in her bed. “Why was the deputy at my house? Is everything all right?”

  Zoe sat the bags on the floor and took a seat in the chair next to the hospital bed. “No. Everything is definitely not all right. I was worried about you being found in your nightclothes and mentioned it to Dane. He went poking around and found something.”

  She went on to tell her aunt about Dane’s discovery and her useless conversation with local law enforcement.

  “Does any of that spur your memory?” Zoe asked.

  Sapphire, who’d been frowning during Zoe’s entire delivery, slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. It’s like someone cut out everything from my memory from the time I went to bed until the time I wok
e up here.”

  “But if you went downstairs in your nightclothes, with a flashlight and Mace, you thought someone was in your house, right?”

  “I can’t think of any other reason why I would do such a thing.”

  “Have you had any problems lately? Trespassers? Anyone new in town who’s taken an interest in you or the lighthouse?”

  “People have always taken an interest in the lighthouse. Everyone hopes that by stepping on hallowed ground, they’ll take some of the magic away with them. I keep picking pennies out of my herb garden.”

  Zoe held in a sigh. She’d heard the legend of the lighthouse a million times. One of her ancestors had commissioned its construction because they’d lost too many fishermen due to mostly submerged rocks just off the coast. Coming in at night, they sometimes missed the narrow channel that allowed them proper passage. One day, three large fishing boats got caught out in a storm and couldn’t get back to port before dark. They approached the coast at what they thought was the correct entry point, but were headed straight for the rocks. Suddenly, the lighthouse beacon came on and illuminated the waters. A tiny tip of one of the rocks glittered in the light and the ships corrected their path before crashing onto them. When the fishermen went to the lighthouse to thank whoever it was that had fired up the beacon at just the right moment, they were shocked to find the structure empty and the beacon sitting on the floor on the bottom level, not yet installed.

  Decades ago, large channel markers were installed, providing safe passage for the fishermen, so the lighthouse had been decommissioned and the city had accepted Sapphire’s bid for its purchase. But the legend had remained a core part of Everlasting history and was included in every book, magazine, or article about the town. Which meant that if magic wishes were really at the bottom of the break-in, then that limited the number of suspects to everyone who’d ever crossed the county line.

  Well, she could probably eliminate two people—herself and Dane. She had been on the opposite coast and Dane had access all day. No reason to sneak in during the middle of the night when you had been invited in through the front door.