Gem of a Ghost: A Ghost of Granny Apples Mystery (7 page)

nine

“Who knows? Max was
no Johnny Depp, but at the time of his death he was bringing in between twenty-five and fifty million a year.”

Phil stopped in his tracks. “How do you know?”

“I thought you read
Forbes
. Each year they publicize the top- earning actors in Hollywood.”

“I must have missed that issue. Or else I blocked it out of my mind so as not to cause brain damage.”

“Lainey said she received an inheritance on her eighteenth birthday. I’m sure that was substantial enough to fund this place.”

They walked deeper into the apartment. The great room was huge and was partitioned off into a sitting area and formal dining area by the use of expensive area rugs over a glistening hardwood floor and clusters of sofas and chairs in bold colors and designs. A large table with enough textured fabric chairs to seat eight dominated the dining area.

“This doesn’t seems like the home of a college student at all,” noted Phil. “It looks straight out of a design magazine.”

“This is hardly a crash pad, and I’ll bet it was professionally decorated.”

“Fancy-schmancy,” added Granny. “I prefer Kelly’s digs.”

Emma turned on her heel to face Granny. “Kelly’s? How do you know what Kelly’s apartment looks like, Granny?”

“I meant her room at the Millers’ house. Much more appropriate for a young woman in school.”

Two walls of the great room were composed of floor-to-ceiling windows, providing a panoramic view of most of Los Angeles. The largest wall of glass was divided by a large natural-stone fireplace. Sliding doors led out to a wrap-around patio containing several lounge chairs, small tables, and charming potted plants.

The solid walls of the condo were painted a dark but muted yellow, almost a deep, soft gold, that played nicely with the furniture. A long mirror, framed in black, hung on the wall over a sofa. In the dining area, a matching mirror hung over a modern built-in buffet. Artwork on the walls was also framed in black.

In front of the largest sofa sat a square coffee table made of a huge slab of glass resting on a stone pedestal. In the middle was a tall, graceful orchid arrangement. On the table, scattered around the orchid, were glasses and beer bottles and a dish that had been used as an ashtray. It was then Emma noticed bits of clothing tossed about.

Identifying jeans, a tee shirt, and a skimpy top in the mess, Emma next picked up a hot pink lace bra from the arm of one sofa. “I guarantee Lainey did not leave this place like this a month ago.”

Phil eyed the bra, one brow cocked in suspicion. “And even if she did, I’m sure this place comes with an experienced housekeeper who’d make sure stuff like this wasn’t lying about.”

Next to the sofa were two pairs of shoes—a pair of men’s athletic shoes and a pair of high-heeled sandals. A few feet away from the sofa, almost to the doorway leading to a long hall, Emma toed a pair of bikini underwear that matched the bra.

She entered the hallway and peeked into the first room. It was a kitchen with state-of-the-art appliances, granite counters, and a nice-sized eating area. It was also a cluttered mess of dirty dishes, empty beer bottles, and glasses. On the counter were open bags of chips and half-eaten deli sandwiches, along with two empty pizza boxes.

“The food on the counter and dishes stacked in the kitchen aren’t more than a day old,” she reported when she returned to Phil. “Looks like a party went on here last night.”

“Humph,” scowled Phil. “While the cat’s away, the fiancé will play.”

“Ex-fiancé,” Emma corrected. “But it still seems very thoughtless considering he’s living in her luxurious apartment.”

Granny came floating in from the hallway. “That bathroom is a wonder. Makes the ones at the Miller house seem like outhouses.”

“I’ll tell my mother that, Granny. She’ll appreciate it, I’m sure.”

“No need to get sassy about it. I was just saying.” The ghost sniffed. “Guess you also don’t want to know nothing about the man passed out in the back room.”

Emma threw the bra down on one of the sofas and turned to Phil, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Granny says there’s someone passed out in the back.”

When Emma started for the hallway, Phil grabbed her arm. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll check it out.”

Picking up a sculpture from a nearby table, Phil held it like a police baton and started down the hallway past the kitchen doorway. Emma held back, then followed close on his heels. He glanced back. “I told you to stay.”

“I’m not Archie,” Emma hissed back at him. “I go where I please.”

Shaking his head, Phil returned his attention to his mission.

“See,” Granny said to Emma. “I told you he should’ve brought his gun.”

The hallway was long and wide, with the solid areas painted the same color as the walls in the great room. Frosted glass doors took up most of one side. Emma quietly scooted one glass door back. It glided open soundlessly on a track to reveal a large and neatly organized closet. On the painted wall, framed photos and mementos hung in an artful arrangement like a pictorial display of Lainey’s life. Emma’s eye caught on several photographs of Max with Lainey and Joanna, and even a couple that included Kelly when the girls were young. There were also some taken recently of Lainey with a young man.

Phil slowly opened a door on the frosted glass wall side. It revealed a den with a built-in desk and bookcase unit. On the desk was a laptop and a printer with school books stacked around it. The room was cozier than the great room and appeared more lived in. There were glasses and bottles and empty plates with dirty napkins on the table in front of the sofa. Across from the sofa, a massive flat-screen TV hung on the wall.

The next door on the other side revealed a good-sized bedroom with a large window, through which the afternoon sun beamed brightly. It was nicely decorated like the rest of the condo, but obviously not the master bedroom. In this room, several boxes were stacked against one wall, along with ski equipment. Two high-end bicycles were parked against another wall.

The next room was a large bathroom almost the size of the bedroom, with a sunken soaking tub, dual sinks, and a shower that could fit four comfortably.

“Jesus,” Phil said to Emma in a barely audible volume, “that bathroom is nearly a religious experience.”

“So Granny told me,” she whispered back.

On the other side of the bathroom was a bedroom much like the first, though not used as much for storage. Both bedrooms had doors connecting them to the bathroom.

“Psst,” Granny whispered, even though only Emma could hear her. “Quit lollygagging. It’s the last room at the end.”

At the end, facing the hallway, were a set of double doors. Keeping the sculpture aloft, Phil gently turned the knob and peeked in. Sensing no danger, he pushed the door open more to show Emma what Granny had found.

On the huge California King four-poster bed was sprawled a young man with dark locks of hair from whom gentle grunts and snores emitted. He was on his stomach and naked, only partially covered by the tangled sheets.

“Hey,” called Phil in an authoritative tone. “Buddy, get up.” He took a step forward. “Come on, rise and shine.”

The man in the bed moaned and turned slightly, revealing he was not alone. Next to him was an equally naked young woman with messy long blond hair.

Emma went to the large bank of windows. As in the great room, they were floor to ceiling and opened out to a balcony. She opened the blinds quickly, flooding the room with warm sunshine. The bodies on the bed starting moving like snakes disturbed in their nest. Not too fast, but there was life, evidenced by moans and the shifting of limbs.

“What the hell,” the man said.

Shielding his eyes with an arm, he turned away from the window as he flipped onto his back. The woman remained on her stomach and moaned.

Phil approached the bed and poked the guy in the shoulder. “Come on, pal, get up. We have some questions for you.”

The man raised up on his forearms and shook the sleep out of his brain like a dog shaking off water. His head of short black curls danced with the movement. As soon as he focused on Phil, he went on alert.

“Hey, man!”

With youthful speed and reflexes, he got to his feet and stood ready to defend himself, fists clenched and ready. Though much lighter than Phil, he was about a half foot taller and thirty years younger. Using caution, Phil stepped back but didn’t step down. The kid hadn’t noticed Emma yet.

Off to the side, Granny danced around from foot to foot like a prize fighter. “You can take him, Phil.” Once again, Emma was glad Phil couldn’t hear Granny. He didn’t need any distractions at the moment.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” The young man’s voice vibrated with a lick of fear, but he kept his fists up and ready.

“We’re friends of Lainey’s,” Emma told him from her spot by the window. “You Keith Goldstein?” He looked like the young man in the photos in the hallway, but Emma wanted to make sure.

He snapped his head around at the sound of Emma’s voice, then whipped it back to keep an eye on Phil. He didn’t seem to notice or care that he was naked. Emma moved from the window so that the kid could keep both of them in his sights, hoping it would make him less wary. The girl on the bed stirred, slowly wakening, oblivious to the drama unfolding a foot away.

Granny shimmied up to Emma. “Will someone please tell the lad to put his knickers on.”

“The lady,” Phil prodded, “asked if you’re Keith Goldstein. Answer her.”

He glanced between the two of them. “Yeah, that’s me.” He lowered his fists but didn’t unclench them. “Is Lainey okay? Did something happen to her?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

“Keith,” Emma began, taking a step toward the door. “We need to talk to you about Lainey. Why don’t you put some clothes on and meet us in the living room.”

“Maybe I should call the police instead.”

“Still playing the tough guy, huh?” Phil pointed to the phone next to the bed. “Why don’t you call down to the front desk. They’ll tell you Ms. Naiman gave them permission to let us in today.”

“The concierge called first,” Emma added, “but I guess you were too passed out to hear the phone.”

“Will someone please get some clothes on the boy?” Granny paced, trying to keep her eyes averted. “It’s indecent.”

“We’ll see you out in the other room.” Emma started to leave, then stopped. “And while you’re putting on your pants, you might want to wake up Sleeping Beauty. It’s after three in the afternoon.”

When Keith Goldstein joined
them in the living room ten minutes later, he was alone. Phil and Emma were seated on the large sofa talking quietly between themselves. Keith was wearing jeans and a souvenir tee shirt from a rock concert. His feet were bare and his dark hair combed back away from his face, his curls semi-contained. He wore glasses with thick, black rectangle rims. He was an average-looking man in his early twenties, with nerdy overtones and a narrow face speckled lightly with acne scars. In one hand he carried a freshly opened can of Coke.

Emma crossed her arms and gave him a disgusted once-over. “This is how you treat Lainey after everything she’s been through?”

He plopped down on the sofa across from them and took a drink of his soda. “Who are you again?”

Smoothing the skirt of her dress, Emma used the gesture to gather her patience like an errant chick. “I’m a longtime friend of Lainey’s family, and Kelly’s mother.”

He digested the information as he took a long pull from the soda. “Kelly? That’s Lainey’s girlfriend at Harvard, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, Kelly White. I met her last December. Pretty cool chick.”

Emma almost corrected him on the name but didn’t. “I saw Lainey yesterday, Keith. She wanted me to stop by and pick up a few things for her.”

Keith shot to attention. “How is she? Is she getting better?” His voice overflowed with hope.

“Yes, her doctor is pleased with her progress.”

“Awesome.”

Before Emma’s motherly instincts could rise up and scold Keith, the girl from the bed emerged from the hallway wearing an oversized tee shirt. From the drape of her garment, it appeared it was all she was wearing. Unlike Keith, she hadn’t even made an attempt to brush her hair or wash her face. Her honey-highlighted hair was wavy and well past her shoulders. Emma thought she recognized her.

“Just need to get my clothes.” The young woman didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the situation.

“It’s about Lainey,” Keith told her as she gathered her underwear, shoes, and other clothing as casually as picking flowers in a field. “They said she’s doing better.”

“That’s great.” Her words were upbeat; her tone—not so much. Clothing bundled in her arms, she sat on the arm of the sofa next to Keith and crossed her legs, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“You’re Summer Perkins, aren’t you?” asked Emma as she studied the girl’s makeup-smudged face.

“Yeah,” the girl answered as she studied Emma back. “And you’re Kelly’s mom—Mrs. Whitecastle, right? The ghost lady from TV.” She sneered when she threw out the ghost part.

“That’s right. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Summer—not since you girls were in high school. It’s nice that you all still keep in touch.”

Summer shrugged. “Lainey and I used to hang out a lot.”

“Used to?”

“I mean, we’re still good friends and all, but with her in the nut house, it’s kind of hard.”

Emma leaned forward, her face pinched in anger. Phil put a hand gently on her arm as a warning to take it slow. Emma ignored his gesture and fixed her eyes on Summer. “You’re such good friends, you’re keeping her fiancé company? In Lainey’s own bed, no less?”

“411, Mrs. Whitecastle, they’re not engaged anymore.”

“It’s true,” Keith confirmed, though he had the good grace to look guilty. “Lainey and I broke up just before she left for Serenity. She gave me the ring back and everything.”

“Hey, gramps,” Summer suddenly called out. She uncrossed her legs and spread them, aiming her crotch at Phil. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Phil was flustered. “I can assure you, young lady, I was not looking at you.”