Giving Up the Ghost (14 page)

"Well--" Gabbie wasn't certain what to say next. Tessa's blunt revelations rendered her
speechless, a feat no one else had managed to accomplish as far back as she could remember.

Tessa lowered her head until her lips were a hair's breath from Gabbie's ear. "Cameron
Leeds was the sexiest, most romantic male ever put on this earth. I don't regret it for one single
minute. Pity it was only four times, total."

"I heard he was quite a Romeo."

"And then some," Tessa agreed. "No problem if you heeded what he said about just
having fun and not getting involved. Of course, sometimes he didn't take his own advice."

"Jill?" Gabbie said.

"Uh huh. But the fool couldn't see it. I bet he went to his grave never realizing how much
he loved her." Tessa resumed her snipping.

Gabbie stroked her now bare neck as she studied herself in the mirror. It looked great.
She looked exotic. French. "Wow, I like it!"

"Wait till I'm done," Tessa said. "The men will be after you like flies."

"Oh, great. Just what I want." Gabbie made a face. They both laughed.

"What about Terry's wife?" Gabbie said. "I heard she had an affair with Cam."

"So Terry gripes every time he gets a chance. Pilar and Cam? Now that's a twosome I'd
swear never got off the ground. I think he played big brother and listened to her moan about Terry."
Tessa lowered her voice. "Did you know he beat her?"

"No!"

"Hold still! I almost turned you into Van Gogh. Here's a towel."

Gabbie pressed the cloth to her stinging ear. "But Terry's so nice. I was just talking to
him down at the beach."

"I know and we all love him, but sometimes he flies off the handle. Besides, Pilar was
homesick for the Southwest. She's happier living there. She's dating someone now, and the kids like
him, too."

"God, you know everything that's happening!" Gabbie said, amazed.

Tessa waved her hand. "What I just told you, you could read in the local paper. It's
nothing like some of the stories people tell me in confidence, stuff they know I'll take with me to the
grave."

She grabbed her hand dryer and directed the air flow all over Gabbie's head, using her
small brush to set the hair in place. When she was finished, she handed Gabbie a mirror. "Now
look!" She spun the chair around.

Gabbie stared in awe at the back of her head. Short wavy hair tapered to her neck, giving
her a sexy, playful look.

"Great, huh? Shows off your fabulous features. I'd kill for those cheekbones, not to
mention your shapely little nose. Next time how about going for some highlights?"

"I don't think so, Tessa."

Tessa shook her finger. "Don't be closed-minded. Just consider it." She grinned. "Have a
great time tonight with Darren."

* * * *

Unbelievable! Gabbie walked around the corner to pick up a few things at the drugstore.
You'd think they read each other's diaries from the way they know the intimate details of each
others' lives: wife beating, affairs, even my date with Darren. But, with the exception of Jill, no one
even speculated that Cam might have been murdered.

A disturbing idea flashed through her mind, bringing her to a dead stop. An elderly man
bumped into her. "Sorry," she apologized, oblivious to his admonitions that she look where she was
going. What if everyone in Chrissom Harbor had taken part in Cam's death, kind of like what
happened in Murder on the Orient Express? No, she decided. Cam was never malicious or
cruel.

Unless he'd done something really awful, something that everyone--including Cam--was
keeping mum about.

She bought a jar of moisturizing cream and a box of Band-aids, and then dropped her
boots off at the shoemaker for new soles and heels. Back at the cottage, she opened the
country-style metal mailbox and was about to reach for her mail, when she saw the bloody remains of a field
mouse on a piece of white cardboard. She yelped and jerked back her hand.

Gabbie fumbled for a tissue to cover her glove so she could removed the cardboard from
the mailbox. She disposed of the mouse in the woods at the side of the cottage. She would have
tossed the cardboard as well, but there was a message written in block letters with a green magic
marker:

"Animals live, animals die. So do nosy people. Let the dead rest in peace."

"Only the dead man isn't resting in peace," she murmured, all too aware of her pounding
heart. After putting the cardboard, with its ominous warning in a plastic bag, she washed her hands
and went into the den. "Cam?"

She placed the bag on top of the bookcase. "I need to talk to you."

To her relief, he materialized immediately. "Don't you look snazzy! Wait till Darren sees
the new you."

"I found a dead mouse and a threatening note in the mailbox. Someone wants me to stop
asking questions."

"Precisely what I asked you to do, remember?"

"But I can't. I won't. Besides, it proves I'm making the murderer nervous."

Cam strode past her and gazed out the window. "Nervous people are dangerous." He
turned back to Gabbie. "I'm beginning to think it's time you brought Darren here. After all, he is the
police chief. It's his job to find out who murdered me."

Gabbie shook the paperweight and watched the snow fall. "I don't know. I'll think about
it."

"You want to find the murderer all by your lonesome."

She slammed the paperweight down on the desk. "I do not! That's the stupidest thing
I've ever heard." But his words had struck home, and they both knew it.

"I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want anything to happen to you, Gabbie."

"Thanks." There was the nice Cam again, the one that melted women's hearts and lured
them into his bed. Had Cam been a decent person or a devious betrayer of trust? She'd heard so
many conflicting reports, it was difficult to know.

"Tell me about Pilar Lopez."

"Ah, Pilar. A sad and beautiful girl who made the mistake of leaving New Mexico and
marrying Terry."

"Did you sleep with her?"

"Of course not! Just gave her some fatherly advice, and enough money to help her leave
her overbearing husband."

"Did Terry beat her?"

"She wouldn't say, just kept rubbing the bruise on her arm. She cried and said she'd kill
herself and the kids if she didn't get away."

This was more complicated than she'd expected. "Do you know that Terry thinks you
two had an affair? He's jealous and he hates you."

"Probably, but I doubt that he's the one who offed me."

"Why?"

"Because I once saved his ass. Did he bother to tell you about that?"

She shook her head.

"I didn't think so. The guy's screwed up, but basically he's a man of honor. He'd never go
after me like that."

Gabbie clenched her hands in frustration. "Why is it everyone I mention has a good
reason not to kill you, according to you?"

"I gave you a lead. Fred Leverette."

"What about the various deals you brought your friends in on? Some of them took heavy
losses."

"Hey, any opportunity I offered had the potential for making big money. But there were
always risks. They all knew it."

"Who put money into your schemes?"

"Reese, Terry, Jack, Andy Russell, Mike Logan, Tim Jordan."

"Tim? The high school principal?"

"Sure. Why are you surprised? Half the town treated me as their investment
manager."

Gabbie rolled her eyes. "I'm hungry. I'm going to make myself a sandwich."

"Hearty appetite. Don't forget to tell Darren about the note and the dead mouse."

After lunch, she took a leisurely bath, did her nails, and worked on lesson plans. The
afternoon passed pleasantly. It was dark outside when she put on her best sweater set and
pants.

Darren arrived precisely at seven. He kissed her cheek as though they were old friends
and helped her on with her jacket. Outside, he opened the passenger's door of his silver Camry.

A gentleman, she thought, as he walked around to the driver's side.

"And we're off!" he said, suiting action to words.

It was toasty warm inside the car. A Beethoven piano sonata sounded softly in the
background. "The 'Appassionata'," she murmured. "One of my favorites."

"Surprised?"

"Yes," she admitted. "Very."

"I like surprising people."

"Oh?"

"It's a great way to get someone to reveal information he didn't mean to reveal."

"Like asking someone when he least expects it where he was when Cam was
murdered?"

"You're a pit bull on that topic. Just won't let go."

Gabbie had a sudden idea. She flashed him a vivid smile. "What if I offered you proof
that Cam was murdered, proof you couldn't dispute?"

"I'd reopen the investigation. But this is pure speculation, right?"

"Mmm." It was speculation. Her only evidence was a ghost, a note, and a dead mouse--if
they could find it. All together they didn't add up to proof that murder had been committed. But she
was revved up enough to ask, "What would you do for me?"

His eyes lit up with a devilish gleam. "Make love to you like mad for an entire
night."

"Thanks, but I was hoping for something more practical. Like arranging to have the
body exhumed and an autopsy performed by a reputable medical examiner."

She held her breath while Darren considered this. "First I'd have to bring the new
evidence to the D.A. And if he agreed the case should be opened, he'd present the matter to a judge
for consideration."

"So be it," she said.

He stopped at a red light and turned to her. "Hey, you're serious about this, aren't
you?"

"I have something I want to show you later."

"Sure. I'd like that."

Gabbie felt her cheeks burn and wished she'd stop coming out with expressions that
made her sound like a flirt, when her main concern was finding Cam's murderer.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. "Have I told you how great you look tonight?"
he said.

"No."

"Well, you do. I love your new haircut."

She stroked the back of her head, which felt naked without her mop of curls. "Thanks.
Tessa's art work."

"A masterpiece." The light changed, and he drove on.

The word "love" bounced around in Gabbie's head, tripping the panic button in her
brain. The word's abused and overused. And he used it about your hair, for God's sake. Now calm
down and act normal.

She was relieved when Darren changed gears from sexy date to friendly neighbor, and
listened avidly while he talked about Chrissom Harbor's residents. She learned that Mike and
Monica Logan's daughter was a powerful international attorney in Washington, Tim Jordan, the
high school principal was disputing his third divorce, and Darren's ex-wife and little girl, Cindy,
lived in Seattle.

"Sorry about that. You must miss her."

"I sure do. But she's coming to spend two months with me this summer," he said
proudly. "We'll do the whole daddy-daughter thing. What about you? Have any children?"

"No, thank God." She drew in breath as she realized how heartless her comment must
have sounded. "I mean, I like kids, but I'm glad I haven't had any so far."

Darren patted her hand. "Whatever pleases you, Ms. Meyerson."

She flared up, feeling misunderstood. Obviously, he saw her as a self-centered, plastic
woman of the twenty-first century. "You don't understand. I've just been through a bad time."

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Suit yourself," he said agreeably, and began to whistle.

Finally, to end the silence, Gabbie said, "What's the story on Jack and Adele
McMahon?"

"What about them?"

Gabbie shrugged. "I don't know. I seem to know something about everyone else I've met.
I've no idea what Jack does for a living, though he made a comment about moving furniture."

Darren chuckled. "Jack takes whatever odd job comes his way. Sometimes he makes
deliveries for the local furniture store; sometimes he works for Reese. He started up his own
business a couple of times over the years, but never could keep anything going. Racked up some big
debts." Darren tapped his head with two fingers. "The poor guy has no business sense
whatsoever."

"Owing money doesn't stop Jack and Adele from eating at Logan's."

"Adele earns a good salary as a legal secretary. And an uncle died and left her money a
year or two ago. I guess they used it to pay off their debts."

Gabbie remembered Adele's coyness when the subject of Cam had come up.

"Was Adele one of Cam's conquests?"

Darren started laughing so hard, tears came to his eyes. As he wiped them away, he said,
"Keep on saying things like that, and we'll have an accident. Cam liked women, but he had
discriminating taste. Believe me, Adele McMahon wasn't his type."

"From her comments the other night, I thought she had a soft spot for Cam."

"Maybe so. Lots of women did, but that doesn't mean he slept with half of them."

"I see." And she was beginning to see. Cam wasn't quite the skirt chaser she'd been led
to believe.

The elegant, candle-lit restaurant was crowded, with several parties waiting to be
seated. She looked around the room, admiring the lavender napery, the oil paintings adorning the
walls. She was pleased that the tables were well spaced, and she didn't have to hear her neighbors'
conversations.

She was pleasantly surprised when the hostess led them to a corner table. "Enjoy," she
told them with a wink as she handed them their menus.

"I see you've greased the right palms," Gabbie said.

"They know me. I come here from time to time."

I'm one of a string of dates. Her good mood suddenly deflated. She pulled back her
shoulders and sat up tall. So what? She'd come out with Darren to glean information and have good
time, and that's exactly what she'd do.

Darren asked for a bottle of chardonnay. Gabbie leaned back in the well-padded chair
and sipped while their waiter took their orders.