I felt warmly toward Diane. Perhaps she’d noticed my hair, which flamed while the rest of me drooped, and decided the white room offered the proper background.
“That’s excellent.” Kay’s enthusiasm seemed to be well contained.
Diane said diffidently, “If you’d like, I’ll show Francie the main rooms on the lower floor before we go up, and then she’ll know her way around.”
Kay looked like someone marooned on an island who sights a cruise ship. “That would be such a help. I’ll slip away. I have an appointment at the historical society.” Her glance flicked toward a shadowy alcove.
Diane looked impressed. “I know you have so much you need to learn. I’ll take good care of Francie.”
My gaze swung to the alcove. Ronald Phillips stood very still, his figure almost invisible, except for the telltale gleam of white buck shoes.
White buck shoes might be passé, but I suspected they added a buoyancy to Ronald’s steps. He no doubt saw himself as quite the dandy fellow, and he continued to be a man who never hesitated to eavesdrop. Was he observing Diane? Or did he have suspicions about Kay?
I didn’t envy his shoes, but I loathed my current pair. Appearance does matter. A beautifully patterned, swinging silk makes a woman feel butterfly free and just as lovely. I wasn’t enjoying being Francie the Frump. Perhaps better shoes would lift my spirits. The green tennis shoes gave way to adorable ruffled orange leather flip-flops.
Kay drew in a sharp breath and shook her head warningly.
I gave her a reassuring pat on her elbow.
If Ronald hadn’t been watching, I suspect she would have chastised me. My smile was blithe as she walked away.
Diane had turned toward an archway. “The living area is this way.” I followed Diane through the main living and dining rooms. The heavy Victorian furniture was massive, lightened by occasional Chinese chairs and couches, many of them either red or gold, an odd but intriguing combination of styles. She flicked on lights to illuminate paintings and statuary. She paused in the dining room to look up at an enormous painting of an angel garbed in denim blue holding a small drum. Two lines of blue feathers accented huge golden wings. “This is one of my favorites. James says the drumbeat is so soft it seems as though you are listening to God’s heart. He knows.” She turned limpid, trusting blue eyes on me. “You see, my friend Laverne—you haven’t met her yet, but you will—is able to reach out to James. That’s my husband. He died five years ago.” Tears made her eyes brilliant.
“Hearing from him must bring you great comfort.” Hopefully Wiggins was deeply engaged at Ulaa Lodge. I well knew the stricture in Leviticus 19:31. I intended to unmask Laverne as a fraud before Kay and I left Adelaide. You might well ask how it was that I, admittedly a spirit, abhorred spiritualism. Ah, the difference is that I had been dispatched from Heaven to help. Mediums claiming to contact those who have passed over were initiating contact from earth. Legitimate contact came solely from Heaven.
Diane clasped her hands beneath her chin. “I don’t know what I’d do without Laverne.” Her voice quivered.
“I suppose when you face a big problem, or a fear, she is able to seek James’s counsel.” And gouge more money from you.
Diane’s eyes looked huge and her face was wan. “Usually.”
“I hesitate to speak.” Have I ever uttered a less accurate statement? “And, of course, we are strangers.” How much easier it is to confide in someone who is not a part of your world. “But I sense that you are in great distress and you aren’t sure how to proceed. Maybe I can help.”
Diane’s fingers hooked around the big beads of her costume pearl necklace. “I can’t tell anyone. I hope James will tell me what to do. Truly, Jimmy didn’t mean—” She broke off, clapped a hand to her mouth.
“That’s all right.” I made a reassuring sound. “Kay’s told me about Jimmy. She understands how upset he was.”
Her eyes grew enormous. “How did Kay know?”
“Kay’s a marvel.” My tone was admiring, though, of course, I deserved the kudos. However, I am selfless in carrying out my duties.
Diane’s delicate features suddenly set in a mask of anger. “I thought Margo heard Jimmy. Well, she can’t pretend she wasn’t mad at Jack, too. I know what happened years ago. She never got over Jack dropping her, and Shannon running after Jack made Margo furious. But she shouldn’t have told Kay what Jimmy said.”
“I’m sure he can explain everything when I talk to him. Is he here this afternoon?”
“Somewhere.” Her voice was faint. “He’s researching a paper for one of his professors. He’s worked hard this summer.” There was a trace of defensiveness in her voice. I wondered if her background had been less privileged than that of her husband. Perhaps she thought even rich kids should have summer jobs.
“That’s wonderful. Certainly it will be important to have his views of his uncle in the book.”
“The book.” She looked as wilted as a chrysanthemum corsage left out in the sun. “Please, don’t put in what Jimmy said. He didn’t mean a word of it.”
“Let me see what I have.” I delved into a shabby straw purse and pulled out a notebook. I flipped past a few pages, peering intently. “Of course, comments often get garbled when they are repeated. Jimmy said something to the effect that he intended to push Jack?” I ended on a questioning note.
“He didn’t threaten to push him.” Diane’s denial was vehement. “If Margo said that, she should be ashamed. It was Saturday afternoon and Jimmy was upset about Shannon and how she was chasing Jack. Jimmy said the next time he saw Jack, he was going to knock him flat. But Jimmy came to dinner and he and Jack didn’t say a word to each other, so that shows Jimmy was only blowing off steam. He would never hurt Jack. That’s how boys talk. Boys make a lot of noise and don’t mean anything serious. Everybody knows Jack fell. His death was a terrible accident.” There was terror in her eyes.
Kay was sure Jack had been murdered.
So was Diane.
I would have enjoyed exploring the subtleties of the white bedroom. Wherever I looked, I saw unusual decorations: a photograph of a polar bear on an ice floe with brilliant blue sky the only note of color, an ivory miniature of the Taj Mahal at sunset, a framed Alençon lace bridal handkerchief with the intertwined initials CKH, an all-white spiral seashell in an alabaster box lined with red velvet, a lustrous white costume pearl necklace dangling from a red coral branch. Instead, as soon as the door closed after Diane, I became invisible and followed her.
In the hallway, I hovered near the frescoed ceiling, white clouds shot through with gold against a blue sky. Diane stood at the landing, her head turned to look up toward the third floor. She shuddered and whirled away. She hurried downstairs, her shoes thudding on the steps as if she could not go fast enough.
I dropped by the Phillipses’ suite. Laverne lay back on a chaise longue, a magazine loose in her lap. Alone, all pretense of imperiousness was gone. Her heavily made-up face sagged, lines of uncertainty and foreboding pulling at her lips. She lifted a shaking hand to massage one temple.
I bypassed Diane’s suite and the unoccupied guest rooms. Jimmy Hume wasn’t in his room. At the other end of the hall, I entered Evelyn’s suite. The impress of her personality was everywhere, from Stickley furniture to art-glass windows to Mission-style lighting to a vibrantly warm still life by Helen Clark Oldfield. The oil painting in an understated white frame hung by itself in the center of a cream stucco wall. On a teak table rested a silver-handled magnifying glass. How much did Evelyn see when she held the oversize glass close to the canvas? Perhaps a dim mélange of Oldfield’s rich colors. Was possession of beauty enough in itself to give her pleasure?