Her smile fled as she stared at the debris. In the moonlight, her face looked suddenly older. She drew in a quick breath.
I patted her shoulder.
Kay stiffened. “You are not here.” The words were evenly spaced, but her voice was strident. “I haven’t had that much to drink. Two glasses of champagne at dinner. That’s nothing. I am perfectly sober. Maybe I need a drink. I’ve got to get my head on straight. Maybe if I talk the situation out, I’ll know what to do next.” She flicked a quick glance toward me. “That must be why I’m imagining you. All right. My subconscious will be my guide.” She began to pace. “I found a note on my pillow. But not a billet-doux this time.” Her face softened. “Jack wrote lovely pillow notes. I still have them. This wasn’t that kind of note, but I was thrilled. I knew I was getting somewhere.”
Kay reached into a pocket.
I was wary, prepared for the gun.
Kay lifted out a square of white cardboard, read aloud: “‘Be on the terrace at midnight in the cul-de-sac. I know what happened to Jack.’”
Interesting. I asked eagerly, “What happened to Jack?”
Kay lifted startled black eyebrows in surprise. “You don’t know about Jack? My subconscious must have gone on vacation after calling you up. You can’t be a good sounding board if you don’t know what’s happened.”
“I know you are engaged in a foolhardy and”—I jerked a thumb at the wreckage—“dangerous scheme.”
“Scheme.” She considered the word and gave an approving nod. “You better believe it, honey. I’ve got a scheme, and that pile of dirt”—she jerked her thumb—“proves I was right. I knew things were breaking my way when I got the note. I suspected something would happen.” She patted her pocket. “That’s why I brought a gun. But”—she looked up at the empty pedestal—“somebody outsmarted me.”
“When I got to the balcony—”
She looked sardonic. “You flew, of course.”
I tamped down my immediate flare of irritation…on the earth, not of the earth… With an effort of will (Wiggins, are you applauding?), I was pleasant. “Not exactly. It’s more immediate than that.” I disappeared, zoomed up, stood on the balcony ledge, reappeared, and looked down on Kay. I was clearly visible in the light from a lamp. I waved, then reversed the process. In another instant, I stood before her.
Her eyelashes fluttered.
The instantaneous switch from ground to balcony to ground obviously dazzled her. What fun.
She pressed fingers against her temples. “Hallucination. That’s all that it is. Maybe champagne isn’t good for me.”
I was impatient with her dogged rejection of my presence. Time was fleeting and action was essential. I began again, firmly. “When I reached the balcony, no one was there. I heard a door shut, but I was too late to see anyone. Maybe the police will be able to find some evidence.”
“The police.” She spoke in a considering tone, then gave an abrupt head shake. “I don’t think—”
“Excuse me, is everything all right?” The puzzled call came from the upper terrace.
Kay’s expression was grim. “Everything’s just super, Laverne. Come on down.” She turned the flashlight toward the steps.
CHAPTER THREE
I disappeared.
Kay drew in a sharp breath.
“Don’t worry. I haven’t left. We’ll talk later.” My whisper was intended as a reassurance.
Regrettably, Kay stamped her foot. “I’ve got to stop imagining things.”
A tall, thin woman with dark hair in a coronet braid descended the steps. She walked majestically, as if pages might be to the left and right of her strewing flowers. She was either someone of importance or someone who wished to appear important. She was dressed all in black, a rayon blouse with a fringe and a billowing black skirt. A sharp nose and thin lips dominated her bony face. “Has there been an accident? I heard a huge crash. I thought something had happened in the garden, and I should go and see.”
Kay’s smile was grim. “Did you indeed? Where’s Ronald?”
Laverne ignored the question as her gaze swung back and forth, searching the shadows. “Where did that woman go?”
Kay’s eyes widened. “You saw a woman?”
Laverne’s stare was haughty. “Of course I saw her. However, I have no intention of intruding upon your meeting. I came down because I heard a big crash. What happened?”
Instead of answering, Kay swung the flashlight toward the heap of dirt and broken porcelain. A portion of broken marble bench protruded from the debris.
Laverne’s lips parted. A hand touched at her throat. She was either shocked or a fine actress. Her gaze rose.
The emptiness of the pedestal was obvious in the moonlight.
“No wonder the sound was so loud.” She turned back to Kay. “How could that huge vase fall?”
“I don’t know what made the vase”—there was an appreciable pause—“fall. In any event, no harm done.” Kay glanced at the broken bench. “I suppose someone can check the pedestal tomorrow. I don’t see that there’s anything we can do tonight. Accidents happen.”
I was stunned. What was Kay thinking? She knew the vase’s fall was no accident.
Laverne’s sharp gaze studied Kay.
Kay’s lime green jacket was dirt-streaked. The right knee of her slacks was torn.
Laverne looked concerned. “Where were you when the vase fell?”
Kay’s smile was grim. She pointed at the heap of dirt and broken pottery. “Ground zero. Luckily, I was able to jump out of the way.”
Did Kay believe she’d jumped? Was she actually convinced I was imaginary?
Kay bent and snagged a clod of dirt. She threw it into the pond with so much force the frogs were startled into silence. “I’m not dead.” She sounded buoyant.
Laverne looked puzzled, as well she might. “Was that woman here, too? Where is she now?”
I didn’t like the way the conversation was going. Could I count on Kay being discreet?
I slipped behind Laverne and swirled into visibility.
Kay saw me, of course. How could she not? I cupped my hand near my ear as if holding a telephone, mouthed, “Call the police.”
Kay stood as if turned to stone, her oval face shocked into immobility.
Laverne looked uneasy. “What’s wrong?”
I pointed with a peremptory finger at my make-believe phone and mouthed, “Call 911.” It was a shame neither Laverne nor Kay apparently had a cell phone with them. Most people seemed to be tethered to them at all times, but I understood a cell phone might not be essential for a late-night walk in the garden. I didn’t want to appear prideful, but I was au courant with new technologies after my previous visits to Adelaide as a Heavenly emissary. I knew about computers, too. However, I make no claim of expertise there.
Kay appeared shaken. She wavered unsteadily. Eyes wide, she looked past Laverne. “You aren’t there.” She spoke with angry emphasis.
Laverne took a step forward. “Are you ill?”
I lost patience. I would have liked to stalk up to Kay and give her a good shake. Instead, I disappeared and turned toward the silent, dark house.
One of the delights of ghostly peregrinations is the ease of transport from place to place. Picture a destination and there you are.
I stood in total darkness. However, I have great faith in my comings and goings. I never doubted I was in the study of The Castle. It was no great gamble to will myself there. What mansion didn’t have a study? What study didn’t have a telephone?
I lifted my hand in search of the wall switch and flicked it up. I went straight to the desk, picked up the handset, punched 911. I glanced at the ship’s bell clock on the mahogany desk. Twenty minutes before one A.M.