Before anyone could respond, Carla walked up to the table and took their drink order.
“How exactly did Connor freak you out?” Lily asked after Carla left the table. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. But when I walked in his room—well, I know this sounds crazy, but it looked like he was flying.”
FORTY MINUTES LATER, Walt, Danielle, Heather, and Marie sat with Lily and Ian in their living room. Heather had just finished explaining her version of the encounter with Kelly and Joe.
“Connor doesn’t even stand yet,” Lily said.
“Like I always say, people believe what is convenient,” Walt said.
“I thought I always said that?” Ian asked.
“Whoever said it, it’s true,” Danielle said.
“I never even considered you would run into Kelly and Joe before I could talk to you.” Heather groaned.
“Fortunately we figured something had happened, so we mostly listened and didn’t comment on Connor’s supposed jumping,” Lily explained.
“The next time we go away, you need to use the deadbolt,” Ian said. “I don’t want to ask Kelly for the key, but at the same time, we can’t have her just barging in the house like that. It could have been worse.”
“I’m so grateful you’re saying that,” Marie said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t let me stay with Connor again.”
Danielle conveyed Marie’s words to Lily and Ian.
“But there is some good news to report,” Heather said.
“What is that?” Ian asked.
“We saw the ghost again,” Heather explained.
“Did you learn anything?” Danielle asked.
“Unfortunately he refused to give us his name or his killer’s,” Heather began. “But he confirmed who he was talking about—in regard to the possible victim or victims. It’s who you thought. The houseguests coming this week.”
“And the killer? Is the killer among them?” Walt asked.
“He wouldn’t say,” Heather said.
“I thought you said you had good news,” Lily said. “None of that sounds too good.”
“According to the ghost, the killer didn’t make any threats against anyone—and as far as the ghost knows, the killer isn’t planning anything. He feels that getting all these people together might trigger something,” Heather explained.
“We don’t know much more than we did before,” Danielle said with a groan.
“You now know one of your guests might get murdered. Before, you didn’t know for sure if he was talking about your guests,” Heather reminded her.
“Like I said, not sure why you think that is good news,” Lily said.
NINE
Bentley Mason gave his boss credit, she never seemed particularly upset when a new business contact extended a hand in greeting, believing him to be Jack Stafford. A sure sign the new contact hadn’t done his or her homework prior to the meeting. But he had to admit, he looked more the part of producer, with his perfectly coifed dark hair, neatly trimmed at the sides with a pompadour. He rocked the designer stubble. Today he wore a dark suit jacket over his crisply ironed mauve dress shirt, sans the tie. If not a producer, many assumed he was an actor instead of the producer’s assistant.
He sat across from Jackie at the table, their lunch meeting had ended ten minutes earlier, and the most recent person to mistake him for his boss had just left the restaurant. Bentley stayed behind with Jackie so they could review some last minute details about their upcoming trip to Oregon.
Silently waiting for Jackie to finish looking over her notes, Bentley studied her features. The word wholesome came to mind, with her red hair neatly trimmed, falling just above her shoulders. Freckles dusted her face, and when Jackie smiled, she showed off straight white teeth. Her brows arched perfectly over hazel eyes, and he thought she looked more like a girl off the farm as opposed to the shrewd businesswoman she was.
A sharp pain shooting from his lower back disrupted his mental musing. Sitting up straighter, he reached back and grabbed hold of his right hip and winced. The motion caused Jackie to look up from her notes.
“Did you take something for that?” she asked.
“Yes, before we ate.”
“You need to do something about that back,” she chastised.
“The doctor says I can either live with it with some good drugs, or get surgery. I opt for drugs.” He rubbed the sore area and then relaxed. “It feels better now.”
“You’re too young to have back problems,” she said.
“Tell that to my back,” he grumbled.
She set her notes aside and said, “By the way, did I mention Seraphina took Phoebe back?”
Bentley arched his brows. “How did that happen?”
Jackie shrugged. “I have no idea. But she’s coming with us and will be staying in your room.”
“With me?” Bentley choked out.
“You don’t look thrilled?” she teased.
He rolled his eyes.
“Most men would love the idea of sharing a room with the lovely Phoebe.”
“Cute,” he said dryly. “She’s not really my type.”
“It’s why I was glad they had a room with twin beds. I thought this might happen.”
“I can’t believe you thought Seraphina would take Phoebe back. You must know something juicy you aren’t sharing,” Bentley said.
“I just assumed Seraphina might be hiring another assistant—and if she did, she’d want the assistant to come along. Although I have no idea why a singer needs her own personal assistant.”
“I heard Birdie paid Phoebe’s salary,” Bentley said in a whisper.
Jackie shrugged, disinterested. “I heard that too. Frankly, I thought Birdie would lose interest in her little project after Randy’s death. But I suppose it keeps her occupied, and as long as she continues to fund this project, she can pay for all the assistants she wants.”
“I’M LOOKING FORWARD to it. I think it’ll be fun,” Polly Larimore said as she chopped the greens for their dinner salad. Her husband, Teddy, sat at the nearby home bar, drinking a gin martini. “I just wish there was some way to see my brother while we’re in Oregon.”
“You can see him another time. This isn’t exactly a pleasure trip. I’m not particularly looking forward to staying in a bed and breakfast with a bunch of people I don’t care about.” Teddy Larimore, who was a good fifteen years older than his wife, showed no signs of gray in his head of dark brown hair. Which made one suspect considering the tinge of gray along the outer corners of his shortly cropped beard. Like his beard, he wore his hair neatly trimmed, with the outer edges cut short, its back length touching his collar, and the front combed forward, almost touching his bushy brows.
“What are you talking about? We’ve been friends with Jackie and Julius for years,” Polly reminded him.
“Jackie is a business associate. It doesn’t mean I particularly want to vacation with her and Julius. And this trip is nothing more than an unnecessary work trip to appease Birdie. I’d rather go up there without all the additional baggage.”