Ghost a La Mode (28 page)

Detective Hallam threw up her hands in frustration. "No, not as this time." She arched a brow at Emma. "But as soon as your psychic friend arrives in town, we'll want to see him."

Emma pulled out her cell phone. "He might be trying to reach me. May I turn it on now?"

As soon as she got the okay, Emma turned on her phone. There was a voice mail from Milo that had just come in a few minutes earlier. She called him back while the detectives watched.

"Milo, it's me," she said into the phone. "Where are you?"

"We just passed a place called Santa Ysabel. I don't think we're that far away."

"No, you're not." Emma paused before giving him the bad news. "Something's come up, Milo. I'm at the sheriff's office in Julian. There was an attempt on my life-in the car, as you predicted."

He gasped. "You okay?"

"What?" Tracy yelled from the driver's side. "What's going on?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I wasn't in the car, but someone else was. But he's going to be okay."

Emma caught a signal from Martinez telling her to get on with it. "Milo, the detectives handling the Garrett Bell murder want to talk to you. You need to stop by the sheriff's office as soon as you get into Julian."

"Okay," he said, with hesitation.

"They want to ask you questions about your visions and what you might know about Garrett."

"Emma, I really don't like police. They make me nervous."

I understand, Milo, but this is important."

Emma gave him directions to the sheriff's office, which they'd have to pass as they came into town anyway. She said she would be waiting for them.

WHILE DETECTIVES MARTINEZ AND Hallam questioned Milo Ravenscroft, Emma and Tracy walked an energetic Archie. Emma took the opportunity to fill Tracy in on everything.

"You have any idea who killed this guy?" Tracy asked.

"None. But I'm thinking it might be someone connected in some manner to the real Ian Reynolds. Someone who knew about the old family property and its possible value."

Tracy, wearing a long, flowing Indian-print skirt and tank top, knitted her brows in thought. "You really think there might be gold on the property?"

"Not sure, though Phil says no. Says the gold mining here tapped out in the late 1800s, even before Granny was killed. It's one of the reasons Jacob's find might have been so exciting and dangerous."

Tracy thought about it for a minute before answering. "But if these men did finally get their hands on the property way back then, you'd think they would have done the mining at that time. Even if there was gold then, it doesn't mean there's any now.,,

They had strolled up the street to the small park just past the museum. Archie, drunk with freedom after being cooped up in the car for hours, was pulling on his leash to run. Then Emma saw another reason for Archie's enthusiasm. Granny, who had disappeared right after the questioning, was back, waiting by a picnic table. Smiling, Emma bent down and unhooked the dog's leash. Archie made straight for the ghost, wagging his tail with gusto. Watching him, Emma was glad they'd brought the animal. He reminded her of home and her parents. His presence assured her that she had a normal life waiting for her elsewhere.

"Well, there has to be something about that land that made Garrett masquerade as a dead man to get it." Emma stretched. It felt good to be free of the intense questioning, at least for now. "You'll see it tonight," she said to Tracy. "Phil's aunt invited us all over for dinner. They live across from it."

Tracy eyed her friend as they walked to the picnic table. "About this Phil guy. What's up with him?"

Phil, after meeting Tracy and Milo, had left for home to help his aunt. Emma and her friends would follow in Tracy's car as soon as Milo was through answering questions.

"Nothing. He's involved with this like I am, on the fringes."

"I don't mean that," Tracy prodded. "I mean what's up between the two of you?"

Emma kept her eyes on the dog. "There's nothing between us."

"Uh-huh"

"You don't believe me?"

"You don't have to be psychic or clairvoyant or whatever to see that there's a spark between you and the ranch hand."

"Lawyer," Emma corrected. "Phil's a lawyer in San Diego. Lives here."

"Lawyer or cowboy, who cares? He's pretty cute and nicely put together. Not a bad caboose for a middleaged guy."

Emma laughed. "Aren't you forgetting that we're middleaged, too?"

"And aren't you forgetting that I look at college beefcake almost every day? Makes a woman my age appreciate a fine specimen over forty, believe me."

"Your friend is right, Emma," chimed in Granny.

Emma almost jumped, not realizing the ghost had moved in close to them. She'd been lost in thought about Phil's caboose herself.

"That Phil Bowers is a fine-looking man," Granny continued. "A good man. You could do worse."

Emma turned to the spirit. "In case you've forgotten, Granny, I have done worse."

"Oh my God!" cried Tracy, before catching herself and toning her voice down. "You're talking to that ghost, aren't you?"

Talking to Granny had become so natural, Emma was starting to do it without thinking about who might be near. She would have to watch that in the future, thankful she hadn't popped off in front of the detectives.

"Yes, Tracy, I was talking to Granny Apples. She seems to think Phil's a hunk of middleaged beefcake, too."

"She kissed him, you know," Granny said to Tracy. "A couple of times." But Tracy couldn't hear.

Emma laughed out loud and plopped herself down on a bench. "Granny's tattling on me," she said to Tracy. "She just reported to you that Phil and I have kissed."

"Damn, I wish I could hear and see her like you do." Tracy sat down next to Emma. Archie settled at the feet of the ghost.

Emma shook her head and giggled. "No, you don't. She can be a real pest." She looked up at the misty image. "Right, Granny?"

"Humph" The ghost moved away but didn't disappear. Archie followed her, his tail wagging.

"See that?" Emma pointed Archie's movements out to Tracy. "The ghost is right there. Archie has a thing for her. Followed her around at Kelly's party, too." Emma thought about Killer. "Come to think of it, so did one of the dogs at Phil's house. Not all of them, though, just one of them. Maybe animals are like people. Some have the gift, some don't. Interesting theory, don't you think?"

"What I'm thinking is that I want you to speak at that class I'm giving next semester. You know, the one I went to the seance for as research?"

"Oh, please, what do I have to say on the subject? You should ask Milo."

"I think the perspective of someone surprised suddenly by this `gift' would be much more interesting." Tracy patted Emma's knee. "We'll talk more about it later. Meanwhile, I want to know more about this kissing business." Tracy flashed her a devilish grin.

"Okay, you got me. We do find each other attractive. Like me, he's in the middle of a divorce. But he also lives down here, and I live up there. Not exactly conducive to building a relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship, Emma? Have a fling. It will do you good. Especially after everything you've been through with Grant."

Emma flushed. "I don't know how to have a fling, Tracy. I don't think it's in my makeup. I think I've been genetically programmed to be flingless."

Tracy stared at Emma. "But certainly in college? Before Grant?"

Emma shook her head. "Nope "

"Are you telling me that Grant Whitecastle is the only man who's ever scaled your tower?" Tracy looked at her bug-eyed.

"Pretty much, yes."

"After all the years we've known each other, why am I just finding this out now? Seriously, I figured with all the dating you did in college, you might have ... you know."

"Grant was my first and my only. Not that I haven't had the opportunity. A lot of his show-biz buddies hit on me when Grant's philandering became public. Guess they thought I'd be an easy mark." She grinned at Tracy. "One was even a multiple Oscar winner.

"Well, woo-hoo."

In the shade of a large pine tree, the two friends sat in silence enjoying the quiet. Emma watched Granny float about the park. Tracy watched the dog wander about, seemingly following nothing. It looked to Emma like Granny was actually playing with Archie.

After a few minutes, Tracy put her arm around her friend. "Well, Rapunzel, maybe it's time to let down your hair and do some comparison shopping."

"OKAY, LET'S SEE WHAT we have so far." Phil cleared space on the large dining table.

They had just finished a delicious dinner of grilled halibut, rice, and roasted fresh vegetables. Susan Steveson was cleaning up. Her husband, Glen, had retired to another room to watch TV. Archie was outside on the deck, enjoying the evening with the other dogs. After an initial few minutes of growling and posturing, he and Killer had become fast friends.

"Let us help you with that, Susan," Emma offered. She got up and started shuttling things to the kitchen counter.

"No, dear," said Susan. "You all just sit down and talk. Maybe you'll remember something that could help the police. This won't take but a minute anyway, and I can listen while I work. Then we'll have coffee and pie. You know," Susan said, winking at Emma, "strawberryrhubarb is Phil's favorite."

Emma raised an eyebrow across the table at Milo. He shrugged back with innocent, wide eyes. The three of them had contributed three different kinds of pie from the Julian Pie Company for dessert. Originally, they had ordered just two-apple and boysenberry-but at the last minute Milo felt strong vibrations about strawberryrhubarb, telling them they just had to get that, too.

Phil Bowers took all of the Winslow letters and fanned them out.

"Do you have some small notepads?" Tracy asked. "We can write clues on them and use them like puzzle pieces."

"Good idea," Susan called from the kitchen. "Emma, there's some large Post-Its in that desk next to the hutch. Those might work even better."

Emma located the sticky notes. They were about the size of an average photograph and perfect for their use. She also brought several pens to the table.

"Okay," she said. "First, let's start by listing the players." She wrote Ian Reynolds on a note and gave it to Phil, who stuck it to the top of the table. Next, Emma wrote Garrett Bell on a note and handed it off. Soon they had the names of all people involved, both dead and alive, including herself and Milo, in a pattern across the table. Then Phil moved them into two columns, one for the dead and one for the living.

"Hmm" Emma looked at the columns. "I'm not so sure it's that cut-and-dried. Some of the dead were recently alive and have contacts on both sides." She studied the names. "Let's start with Garrett Bell." She took the paper with his name and moved it to the middle. "He's the one we're most concerned with, considering it's his murder that's at issue here."

"Enough's enough, Emma. Go home."

At the sound, both Emma and Milo turned to look at the ghost of Garrett Bell. He was hovering just inside the patio door. Outside on the deck, both Archie and Killer were whining.

"Oh my God," said Tracy with glee. She clapped her hands together like a five-year-old with a new toy. "She's back. This is so exciting! What's she saying, Emma? What's she saying?"