I was afraid she was overdoing her ingenuous response a trifle.
Evelyn bent her head, apparently listening intently. Her expression was alert.
Cobb cleared his throat. “Mrs. Clark, you were in the garden when the vase fell. Apparently, you narrowly escaped being crushed. Do you think it is likely the vase’s fall at that precise moment was a coincidence?”
Kay gave a cool smile and turned her hands palms up. “I wouldn’t know what else to think.”
“Really.” He drew out the word in a sardonic mimicry. “Mrs. Clark, why were you in the garden?”
She hesitated for an instant, then said smoothly. “I was meeting with my assistant, Francie de Sales. She’d just arrived in town.” Kay glanced at Evelyn. “Diane has very nicely invited Francie to stay at The Castle.”
“Oh?” Evelyn turned her milky gaze toward Kay.
Kay was suddenly voluble. “Francie and I met in the gazebo this morning. Diane stopped to visit and she saw at once that Francie and I could be in closer contact if Francie stayed here. I truly appreciate her generosity and yours.” She smiled at Chief Cobb. “Francie will be in and out.”
Uh-oh. I knew Chief Cobb well enough to be certain he would ask to talk to Francie. Kay had no way of knowing that the chief and I had met before, though he hadn’t known me as Francie de Sales. I thought fondly of my previous appearances as Officer M. Loy and family friend Jerrie Emiliani.
“Is Miss de Sales available? I’d like to speak with her.”
Kay looked uncertain. As well she might. “I’m not sure when she’ll be back. She went to get her luggage.”
On the spur of the moment, that wasn’t a bad ploy.
Cobb nodded. “Ask her to call me, please.”
Whew.
“I will.”
“Now, about your conference with her in the garden last night: Who knew about that meeting?”
“No one.” She sounded utterly confident. And believable.
Wiggins knew, of course. Oh well, she was speaking the truth as she understood it.
Cobb folded his arms. “I understand you are in Adelaide to write a book about Jack Hume. Has it occurred to you, Mrs. Clark, that someone might not want you to write that book?”
Her gaze was unfaltering, her voice convincing. “Chief Cobb, I’m quite sure no one pushed a vase from that pedestal because of the book.”
Again, she spoke the truth. A murderer pushed the vase to hide a crime.
“And”—she spoke brightly—“speaking of the book, it’s time I continued my research.” She turned and started down the steps.
Chief Cobb stared after her, eyes narrowed, face hard.
“I suppose this concludes your questions.” Evelyn spoke pleasantly, but firmly. “I consider the matter closed now. We won’t make a complaint. Further investigation isn’t necessary. The destruction of the vase may have been vandalism. But”—her tone was silky—“experts are often wrong. Thank you for your good efforts, Captain.” Evelyn, too, turned away and moved down the steps.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kay slid behind the wheel of a canary yellow Corvette convertible with the top down; her eyes flicked uneasily here and there.
I settled comfortably in the soft leather seat. “Are you looking for me?” It’s nice to be missed.
She stiffened. “You.”
“Me.”
She glared at the passenger seat. “I don’t know which is worse, seeing you or not seeing you.”
The chief’s car pulled around Kay’s. He gave her a half-angry, half-worried glare. I warned, “Let’s wait until the chief’s car is out of sight.”
Kay was surly. “I’m surprised you didn’t appear on the scene and tell him everything.”
I didn’t intend to share with Kay my determination to avoid the chief. He had seen enough of me on previous visits to suggest an otherworldly link. Wiggins had been upset. Wiggins would be proud of me if I avoided the chief.
“Don’t sound bitter, Kay. I’m going along with your plan.”
“I can’t stand hearing a voice out of nowhere.” Her tone was hot. “If you’re here, be here.”
Always happy to oblige, I swirled into being. In my new role as Kay’s assistant, I sought to appear more businesslike, a crisp white blouse with a flared collar, cream linen trousers, white leather flats. I pulled down the visor and glanced into the mirror. Ah, just the right amount of green eye shadow. Not, of course, that I am prideful about having green eyes. Green is as green does, but green does better with a little accent.
Kay reached out, tapped my sleeve with her forefinger. “Okay. I’m convinced. Diane saw you. But you come and go.” She spoke in a whisper. “I have my own personal ghost. Ghosts…” She had a faraway look. Abruptly, she sat up straight and turned to me. “All right. Level with me. Who killed Jack?”
It was the last question I’d expected. “How should I know?”
She was impatient. “Don’t play games. You hang around. You see things. You know things. Who pushed him?”
“I wish I knew. For one thing, I wasn’t here yet. Besides—”
“Stop right there. You claim you’re here from Heaven, right?”
I nodded.
“They know everything in Heaven. All I need is the name. Then you can pop back there and I’ll take care of everything.” She waved a hand as if Heaven were somewhere near.
I couldn’t fault her assumption, but she didn’t understand the rules. I had a quick memory of Precept Seven: Information about Heaven is not yours to impart. Simply smile and say, “Time will tell.” Surely this was an exception. “Kay, only God knows. And, as I understand it (I will admit my comprehension was perhaps not at the highest level), when people on earth aren’t following God’s will, their thoughts are hidden. All that is known is their outward attitudes and the results of their actions.”
“I get it. Whoever pushed Jack is keeping quiet and the only thing I can do is nose around.” She frowned. “So what good are you?”
“I’m here to keep you safe.” I gave her a reassuring smile.
“Why?”
I looked at her, my eyes widening. “I have no idea.” Why, indeed?
“There are people in trouble all over the place. Why do I have a special angel—”
I was firm. “Not an angel. Ghost. G-H-O-S-T.”
“Angel, ghost, agent, emissary, whatever. Why me?”
“Maybe because you’re so difficult.” I’m afraid I sounded testy. “Heavens, I don’t know. Maybe years from now, somewhere down the road, there’s something important you’re going to do or say. Maybe there’s a great big celestial lottery and your number came up.” I rather liked that idea. God clearly was a gambler. He’d certainly taken a flier on creating Earth.
“If it weren’t for the honor, I’d be just as happy if you returned to…”—she took a deep breath and forced out—“Heaven.”
“When my task is done.” I’d never analyzed how or why the recipients of aid were selected by Wiggins. Did files simply appear in Wiggins’s office? The ways of Heaven are, of course, Heavenly. I urged Kay, “Remember ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade.’” My years as an English teacher sometimes prompted a literary reference.
Kay looked at me blankly.
“‘Theirs not to reason why, theirs to do and die.’”
“You are so last century.”
Kay had a talent for offending me. I snapped, “You may not be this century for very long if I fail. Now let’s go.”
“Go where?”
I was beginning to feel like an old Abbott and Costello routine, but I wouldn’t share the thought with Kay. “Wherever you were going.” I waved my hand.
She ran her fingers through her dark hair in a gesture of exasperation. Her unevenly cut hair appeared even more casual and youthful.
I brushed back a curl. “I really like your haircut. Would you mind if I tried that style?”