A Ghost to Die For (10 page)

Otis led us into the front parlor and there, near the lit fireplace, was an elderly lady in a wheelchair. I noticed
she had a walker nearby, standing against the wall. I guessed she must be Harriet and that was confirmed when she greeted Atlas and then Alex.

“Oh, come here you big love.” She called out to Atlas, he made haste to go to her and stood quietly and close beside her. She reached out and stroked Atlas from his head and over his back. “What a gentleman dog you are. Oh, if only you could teach your manners to that rascally little terrier down the street. He is such an ornery little devil.”

“Harriet it is good to see you. You are looking well,” Alex said.

“Oh, Alex, talk about bad manners, please excuse mine. Please have a seat. This must be Shannon?” Harriet looked to me and other than when she was adoring Atlas, it was the first time I witnessed her smile. Her brown eyes gleamed and her smile was wide and sincere.

I reached into my tote and pulled out the two jars of jam. “Yes, I am Shannon. I’m pleased to meet you and hand-deliver these two jars of Rosario’s finest.”

“Oh thank you dear. Please set them right here at my table.”

I stepped over to the small end table beside her wheelchair and put the jars on it. When I leaned over to set the jars down, Harriet looked up into my face, she smiled, but beneath the smile I could tell she was studying me. Next, I took a seat on the sofa beside Alex. We were a few feet across from Harriet. Atlas had settled in on the floor off to Harriet’s side. I looked around for Otis. Otis had disappeared.

“Oh, don’t mind Otis, he vanished into the kitchen. I hope you will stay for coffee.”

“We’d love to,” Alex replied.

Chapter 18

Otis came back into the parlor carrying a large tray with coffee service on it. He set it on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Alex I know you like your coffee black, but how about you, Shannon?”

“Oh, black is fine with me.”

Otis served us coffee and then said to Harriet, “Dear, I brought your tea for you.” He carefully placed a teacup and saucer on Harriet’s side table.

Harriet smiled at him and replied, “Thank you Otis. Alex and Shannon, I do so wish I could partake in coffee, but my doctor has hounded me to stop drinking it and so, I am trying to oblige his orders. This herb tea is excellent, but I assure it is no match for a good cup of coffee. Oh, well, what is one to do.”

Otis sat in an armchair near Harriet and offered a brief explanation in saying, “Harriet is undergoing a calcium therapy to strength her bones after the surgery she recently recovered from. Her doctor feels that too much coffee detracts from the absorption of calcium.”

Then, Harriet chimed in and said, “Yes, and that’s the reason for this wheelchair and that walker. I can walk, but my doctor insists that while I’m on this therapy I need to limit walking to a bare minimum. I so miss our late-afternoon strolls.”

Otis reached over to Harriet and patted her hand, “It won’t be long, I imagine by spring you’ll be up and strolling about to your heart’s content.”

Alex and I quietly witnessed this exchange and I thought it was quite dear. These two lovely people were taking care of each other in the best way possible and obviously their long married life of companionship agreed with them. Peas to carrots, as Rosario would say. We should all hope to have a loved one who is a pea to our carrot. I was dreamily musing about this quaint association when Alex broke my amusement.

“Otis, I recently was asked about persons in San Diego that reside in historic homes in our neighborhood, such as my own Blackthorne House. Anyway, I was asked about your charming Queen Anne Victorian. Has your family been in the area a long time?”

“Mine, yes. They came here right after the first World War, about 1919, maybe 1920. I don’t rightly recall the exact year.”

I can tell this was not the answer Alex expected, he fumbled for the next words. “Oh, then your family did not build this home?”

“Oh, no.” Otis did not elaborate. “Who was asking?”

Again, Alex fumbled a bit and I stepped in to help out. I said, “Wasn’t that the real estate buyer from out of this area who was inquiring about historic homes that would make a good bed and breakfast inn?”

Alex nudged me ever so lightly. I took the nudge to mean that I had saved him from an awkward moment. He smiled and then said, “Yes, Shannon, that is right. It was that lady we met at that charity event we went to in Los Angeles. She knew about Rosario’s success with turning Blackthorne House into a B&B and was wondering if there were other properties in the neighborhood that might be ripe for the same business transaction. Not that I would have given her a name or address, Otis, be sure of that. She was a pushy person and her specialty was locating sellers of homes that can be turned into B&Bs.” Otis and Harriet seemed to accept Alex’s explanation.

I had to interject a bait phrase, “I recall she was especially interested in homes, that like Blackthorne House, had an intriguing history to them.”

“I bet she was looking for notoriety, and not just an interesting bit of history,” Harriet said and then she chuckled and added, “Certainly, Alex’s Blackthorne House and our home would fit that category.”

Bingo! I thought, I struck the nerve I was hoping for. “Oh?” is all I said.

“Oh my, yes,” Harriet replied. “This home once belonged to a person of notoriety, a Miss Ruby Red. Otis tried to find out more about her, but that was long ago and we did not have the resources to fully investigate.”

I had to play dumb in order to get Harriet and Otis to talk more on this topic. I said, “Ruby Red, hmm, I’ve heard of her. But it was in connection with another woman. A younger woman named Andalyn Dixon?” I looked at Otis with my best expression of curiosity, highbrows raised and asked, “Did you come across that name in your research?”

Otis stared into the empty air off to his left, thinking and then said, “I do remember that name turning up. And, it seems to me the two women were connected, somehow.” Then he turned to Harriet and said, “You wouldn’t mind if I show Shannon that painting of Ruby?”

“Oh, yes, please do. Oh, I so love an intrigue!” Harriet looked to Alex and myself and then said, “The painting is in our library, just follow Otis. I’ll stay here with Atlas and sip my tea.”

Alex and I walked with Otis through the dining room and into a small library. I imagine when the home was built this room was either a man’s smoking room, or maybe a woman’s sewing room. We were at the back of the house, just one room away from the kitchen. The mouth-watering aroma of pot roast wafted through the air and it dawned on me it was close to dinnertime. I would have to hurry-up our visit. The painting was on the wall opposite from the large west-facing window, the afternoon sun beamed over it and lit up every detail.

I stood in front of the painting. The painting was exact in every aspect to the one at Audrey Sinclair’s home, except the two women were reversed.
How very odd
. Best not to disclose this fact to Otis, at least not yet.

“Otis, I think I have seen a painting like this, but I am not sure where. The French Impressionism style was among my favorite studies in college. Would you mind if I took photos of it? I carry my little digital camera with me.” Before Otis could answer I reached into my tote bag and pulled out my camera.

“Go right ahead.” Otis stepped out of the way and so did Alex. I took about ten minutes capturing as many photos from as many angles as I could. While snapping away, I kept an ear open to Otis and Alex talking. Alex was doing a great job at picking Otis’ brain about the painting and the house.

I stashed my camera back into my tote. “Okay, that does it. I’ll be sure to let you know if I discover anything about it,” I said to Otis.

Otis grinned and then said, “Finally, we may have the truth about Ruby Red. Shannon, I am looking forward to whatever information you find out. And do let me know if you need to come back to take more photos.” Otis was beaming.

Alex brought our visit to an end when he said, “We really need to get going. I know that by now Atlas is wondering where his dinner is.”

We walked with Otis back to the parlor but remained standing. Otis explained to Harriet about the painting and she laughed.

“Good snooping Shannon, and I mean that as a compliment. Oh, I do hope you can find out something about that painting, this house and the mysterious Ruby Red. I would love to present the full story to my book readers club.”

“I promise you will be the first to know what I find out.”

Atlas sensed we were ready to leave and he stood up, walked over to Alex. Otis saw us out to the front porch and we were on our way. When we crossed the yard to take the path I looked out at the setting sun, it was then that I saw the connection. “Oh. My. Stars,” I said in an excited whisper to Alex. I pointed to the sunset view. “Look.”

Chapter 19

“Gorgeous sunset,” Alex remarked.

“Phooey, that’s not what I mean.” I reached into my tote bag and pulled out the photo I had printed up of the painting from Audrey’s house. I held it up. “Alex, the horizon is the same, look at the ocean and the coastline, it is all the same as the painting.”

Alex took the photo from me and studied it. “Amazing, it is almost the exact point of view.” He turned around to look up at the Van Wyck home and turned back to me. “Shannon, it’s as if the painting was created from a point of view of the artist standing up there on the verandah of the Van Wyck home. That little bit of an increase in elevation is perfect. You know, when we were in the library, Otis mentioned the wonderful view of the ocean that they have from that window, I turned to admire it and at that moment I had the feeling I had seen it before. But of course I dismissed the thought because I did not recall ever being in their library and I had not given a second thought to the verandah on that side of the house. I’m sure of it now. I have seen this view before. Looking at this photo and their painting, the views are exact.”

“I’m going to snap some photos of this sunset view with the coastline and when we get home, I’ll bring them up on my computer. I can use a photo-editing program to overlay one photo onto the other photo. Oh, and how weird is that the painting in the Van Wyck home is exactly like the painting that Audrey has, except that the positions of the two woman are reversed, they are sitting in opposite chairs?”

“They are? I didn’t notice. Are you sure?” asked Alex.

“Yeah, I am. I’ll prove it when I get the photos on my computer. Makes me wonder if there might be additional details that are different. I wonder why the artist reversed the two women?”

“It might be a major clue, or it could be that the artist was merely experimenting with different angles of color, light and such. Since one of the women has brilliant red hair, maybe the artist wanted that pop of color placed strategically in the painting. I didn’t mention to Otis that we know about another painting that is like his. And although I was surprised when I saw the painting, I’m pretty sure Otis credited my surprise to my interest in the view from the window.”

We resumed our walking and within a few minutes entered through the back garden gate. Alex took the leash off Atlas and told him to take care of business. The big dog moseyed over to various grassy areas, shopping for the right one. I laughed at this pee-on-command behavior. “You have him trained well,” I said to Alex.

“Atlas was easy to train. Most Irish Wolfhounds are, as long as the owner is not heavy-handed.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“I used a method developed and taught by the Monks of New Skete. They are Byzantine-Rite Franciscan monks of the Eastern Orthodox Church, located in New England. Since 1966 they have been well known for their dog training methods that employ praise training with an intrinsic appreciation for a dog’s innate motives. It’s a more natural way to develop an appreciation for the dog and human bond.”

“Sounds very dog-whisperer like,” I said.

“Yes and no. The New Skete monks have been doing this long before the phrase
dog whisperer
came into use. Anyway, it works with me and with Atlas. In a way, we trained each other. Speaking of that, it is time for his dinner, and ours, too. Aren’t you hungry, Shannon?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. My ribs are rattling my backbone in protest. We could stay in and I’ll cook.”

“Or we could try The Prado restaurant at Balboa Park, it’s a short walk from the Museum of Art. The restaurant offers an extensive menu, and they decorate the walls with local art, on a rotating basis. That is, if you do not mind the fact that I called in a reservation earlier today.” Alex smiled

I countered with, “What? Me mind that you knew I would be hungry? Not at all. Do I have time to freshen up?’

“Yes, that is if you do not mind leaving the photo work alone for now. We can delve into it after dinner, okay?”

“You bet.”

The drive over to Balboa Park was only fifteen minutes. When we arrived at the restaurant I was thankful that Alex had a reservation. There were over a dozen patrons waiting to be seated.

We sat at a corner table in the courtyard room of The Prado. In this room the overall look was of a warm fresco honeyed hues on the walls that were, as Alex mentioned, decorated with an array of framed art from local artists. Our corner table faced the room and on each wall, to our backs, we had a fantastic view from large arched windows. It was a lively crowd of eclectic patrons, just what I would expect on a Saturday night. After our waitress took our order, Alex leaned in close to me and discreetly pointed out patrons he knew.