Ghost a La Mode (14 page)

"What's ailing you?" Granny asked Emma, but she didn't move away. She looked over at Albert. "Sometimes, she acts a bit tetched in the head, but she's harmless."

"Turn your head for me, Granny, like this." Emma demonstrated. Granny seemed annoyed with the request, but she complied. Emma noted that there was no sign of her neck being broken or even of a rope mark.

Emma added another mental note to her list of things to ask Milo.

"There's no evidence of how you died, Granny."

"You don't believe I was hung?" From her voice, Granny was getting her back up. Emma hoped she wouldn't disappear.

"Granny was hung, Emma," Albert added. "There's no doubt about that." He sounded peeved at her, as well.

"That's not what I meant." Emma paced at the foot of the bed as she sorted through her thoughts. "Listen, guys, I'm just learning about ghosts and spirits-kind of like on-the-job training. Please give me a break."

She looked from Albert to Granny and added Billy's image to the mix. "It's just that Billy Winslow's ghost was very young. But his ghost, your ghosts, don't seem to show the method of your deaths. I'm just curious, that's all."

Granny looked at Albert. "Tetched, see?"

Emma looked at Albert. "Do you remember how Billy Winslow died?"

"Aye, I do." Albert Robinson's face drooped in sadness, and the image slowly started to fade. "Young man like that, tragedy shook the whole town." He looked back out the window, lost in the remembrance of grief. "Billy was a good boy, both he and Winston. But shortly after Winston left town, he took a shotgun into his daddy's barn and blew his head off."

Emma shuddered. Granny turned away.

"Broke Big John's heart," Albert continued. "He was never the same. Took to drinking after his wife and daughter left. Got worse after Billy died."

"Did Billy leave a note? Any reason for what he did?"

The ghost of Albert Robinson shook its head. It continued to stare out the window as its image shimmered like dust in the sunlight.

AFTER ALBERT AND GRANNY left her room, Emma got dressed in her new clothing and wandered out of the hotel. She'd made a list of things to do. She wanted to visit the Pioneer Museum. Barbara had told her that it contained a lot of artifacts and memorabilia about the town, and that the people who ran it were very knowledgeable about local history. It was too late for the museum today. It would already be closed, as were most of the shops in town. She also wanted to talk to Phil Bowers again. She wanted to know what Ian Reynolds wanted that made Phil so angry. Being June, it would be several hours before it got dark. She was pretty sure she could find her way out to the Bowers place without Granny as long as it was daylight.

And then there was Billy Winslow. She didn't know if he could help her with the murders, but after hearing how he died, she felt a strong maternal urge to see him again, if only to sit by his side on the bench and gaze at the town.

Before she left town, Emma stopped by the small grocery store and picked up a good bottle of wine. Then she made her way to the Bowers place.

As she got out of the car, Emma heard dogs. From the angry barks, it sounded like several. She glanced around, ready to jump back into the car to save her skin, but no dogs materialized. As she made her way to the front door, the cacophony of canines continued. It was no surprise that the door to the large home was opened even before she rang the bell.

"Well, what do you want?" the woman at the door asked.

She was short and plump, with cropped silver hair, dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved knit top. Emma thought her to be about her mother's age. She had a full face with a rosy complexion-a face that would have been considered open and friendly had it been fixed with a smile instead of a scowl. She had a growling German shepherd by the collar. Looking at the strong jaws and sharp teeth, Emma prayed the woman's grip was tight. She could hear other dogs barking from somewhere in the house behind the woman.

"I ... um ...," Emma stammered.

"You're the same woman who was out here this morning snooping around." The woman tossed her chin. "I recognize the car."

"Uh... "

"Spit it out, girl, I haven't got all day."

"Is Phillip Bowers here?" She felt like a child asking if little Phil could come out to play.

Emma steeled her shoulders with faux confidence but couldn't help glancing every now and then at the growling dog just a few feet away. Where was Granny? Archie liked the ghost. Maybe spirits were good with animals. Maybe Granny could calm the savage beast licking his chops over her leg bone. And maybe she was on her own.

"He's not here right now."

"Are you his aunt Susan?"

"That I am."

Emma held out the bottle of wine. "I brought this to say I'm sorry. For my intrusion this morning."

"And what about your intrusion now?"

It was clear to Emma that charm and good manners did not run in the Bowers family. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, with nothing to lose, she cut to the real purpose for her visit to the Bowers ranch.

"Who is Ian Reynolds?" Her eyes met the woman's.

The woman narrowed her blue eyes and studied Emma for what seemed like a month of dental work. The dog continued to growl.

"Down, Baby," the woman commanded. The dog ceased growling, plopped its butt down on the floor, and looked up with adoration at its master, the intruder forgotten.

"You really don't know who Reynolds is, do you?"

Emma shook her head. "Not a clue. I tried to tell Phil that, but he stormed off before I had the chance."

For the first time, the woman smiled. "Sounds like Phil. He was pretty mad after he saw you."

The two women and the dog continued to stand at the front door. Finally, the woman seemed to make up her mind about Emma.

"Come on in. I just made some iced coffee. Decaf. Would you like a glass?"

Emma nodded but eyed the dog.

"Don't worry about Baby. He's harmless once he knows you're okay."

Emma followed Susan through the front foyer back to the kitchen. The Bowers home was spacious, with a modern, open floor plan. Toward the back of the house, it opened into a huge space with kitchen, informal dining area, and family room flowing easily from one into the other. The place was comfortably decorated with country-style furnishings, pine wood, and oversized sofas and chairs. A brick fireplace took up one wall of the family area.

Baby laid down by sliding doors that led out to a large deck. The unseen dogs continued to bark and growl.

"Quiet," Susan yelled. The barking ceased.

She walked toward a closed door. As soon as she opened it, two more dogs spilled into the room. They beelined straight for Emma. One was a German shepherd almost identical to Baby. The other, a bichon frise, was pure white with button eyes and looked more like a child's stuffed animal than a living dog. The shepherd gave her a few short sniffs, then joined Baby by the door. The little dog sniffed her with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

"Stop that, Killer," Susan said to the little dog. "Don't pay him no mind," she said to Emma. "He thinks he's a tough guy. The other dog, the other shepherd, is Sweetie Pie."

Emma glanced over at the two big security dogs, then down at Killer, who continued to sniff and give off little growls. At least the Bowers family had a sense of humor where their animals were concerned.

Susan held up a pitcher of iced coffee and asked, "Or would you prefer iced tea? We have both."

"Iced coffee would be wonderful, Mrs. Bowers."

"It's not Bowers, it's Steveson."

"Iced coffee then, Mrs. Stevenson"

"Just Steveson, without the n. But call me Susan. My maiden name was Bowers."

Susan Steveson busied herself pouring iced coffee into tall glasses. "And what is your name? I'm afraid my nephew never told me before he took off." She glanced up at Emma. "He did say you were pretty though. And he's right."

Feeling a blush forming, Emma put the wine down on the counter and looked out the sliding doors. Beyond the deck was a gorgeous view of a rolling meadow, and beyond that, a wooded area.

She looked back at Susan. "My name's Emma. Emma Whitecastle."

Susan set a full glass and long spoon in front of Emma, then pushed a sugar bowl and creamer toward her. "You'll have to sweeten it yourself. I also have artificial sweetener, if you'd like."

Emma took a small sip. The coffee had a faint taste of vanilla. It didn't need sugar. She poured in a little milk and stirred. "It's delicious."

"Whitecastle" Susan rolled the name around on her tongue like a gumdrop while she stirred sugar into her own coffee. "Unusual name. You related to that fool on TV?"

"That fool is my husband."

"Sorry. Guess I shouldn't have called him a fool."

"It's okay. He's actually a soon-to-be ex-husband." She paused to take a sip of coffee. "And he is a fool."

Susan eyed Emma over her glass. "Something tells me he's a bigger fool to let you go"

Emma blushed again. "I don't think Phil would agree with you. He's sure I'm in cahoots with this Ian Reynolds person."

"My nephew has his own problems. He's in the middle of a divorce himself. Married over twentyfive years, then one day his wife runs off with someone else. Fortunately, his kids were already grown and out of the house."

"I'm sorry to hear that. About his divorce, I mean. I have one daughter, Kelly. She leaves for college in the fall."

In spite of the rocky start, Emma liked Susan Steveson. She might be able to get more information out of her about Ian Reynolds than her rude and cranky nephew.

They adjourned to a table on the deck. The three dogs followed them outside. The afternoon sun was half hidden by the trees, leaving it warm but not too hot.

"I was surprised by how hot it is here," Emma remarked. "Being in the mountains, I thought it would be cooler."

Susan shook her head. "We get the full four seasons up here. Summers can be scorching, and winters bring snow." She turned to look at Emma. "But we like it. Glen and I moved away shortly after we were married but came back here to live when Phil's parents died. He was a young teenager, a bit older than our kids. We raised him along with our own son and daughter. They've both married and moved away, but they loved growing up here"

"No wonder Phil is so protective of the land. It's his heritage."

"That it is. He's actually a lawyer. Has his own practice down in San Diego. Goes back and forth a lot. But I think as soon as his house sells and the divorce is final, he'll move here full-time and commute to his office. Or maybe he'll work from here"

"There must be a lot of work to running a ranch."

"The Bowers ranch isn't a working ranch anymore. Most of our land is leased to other ranchers for grazing. We keep a couple of horses for our own riding, but it's been years since we ran it as a real ranch."

Susan got up, emptied two big bowls of water that were sitting on the deck, and refilled them with fresh water from a nearby spigot. The two big dogs lapped with gusto while the little dog jostled for position for his own drink. Baby stepped aside for him.

Susan laughed and pointed at the little dog. "Despite his size, Killer rules the roost around here, believe me."

The two women settled into companionable silence for a while, enjoying the peace and watching the three dogs play. Emma thought about Archie. Although he was boarded at a doggie 5-star hotel, she really needed to get home and release him. Also, she had only booked her room at the Julian Hotel through tonight. Barbara had told her when she made her reservation that the hotel was booked solid for the entire weekend. So unless she made other lodging arrangements, Emma would have to go home tomorrow. But there was still more she wanted to know.

"What can you tell me about Ian Reynolds, Susan?"

"Hmm, not much, I'm afraid. He's mostly dealt with Phil, and the dealings have not been pleasant. I do know that he claims to be a descendant of that Granny Apples woman, just like you." She looked at Emma, her blue eyes measuring and weighing. "Are you really? You know, related to that murderer?"