“It depends how long it takes me to re-design and decorate Opal’s house. I think that’s what she wants done. She’s been rather vague.”
“I kind of like it as it is. Has the feel and smell of old money to me,” said Rosemary.
Esme laughed. “You behave yourself now.”
“No way,” said Rosemary. “Life’d be no fun.”
“Tell me more about the guy who murdered his wives,” Fiona said.
Rosemary smiled. “Let’s get the Sheriff over here. He could give you the gruesome details. There he is.” She nodded in the direction of a table of men, the loudest at the party.
“I’ll catch him later,” Fiona said, not wanting to make a scene. She wanted more time to see which direction the wind was blowing, politically speaking and otherwise
“We’ll introduce you,” Esme said, undeterred. She turned and shouted to the table of men. “Hey, Hoover. Come on over when you finish.”
Hoover looked around to see who had called his name, spotted Esme waving at him and returned the wave.
“You bet,” he shouted back.
His buddy elbowed him, said something, and they all laughed.
“How is it you know Jake?” Rosemary asked. She had flashing dark eyes, shoulder length dark hair, and wore the flat, wide brimmed hat of the buckaroos in the south end of the valley. At least, that’s what the lady at the ranch store told Fiona when she bought the same style hat. Rosemary looked much more authentic than Fiona felt in hers.
“I met him when he came to Northern Virginia to help Opal settle her brother Albert’s estate.”
Esme nodded. “I heard about that. Jake said he met an interior decorator out there. That must be you.”
“Designer. I redesign and improve upon living spaces. That would be me.”
“I get it, like Martha Stewart. Can’t say we ever see your type out here. Ranchers put their money into livestock, machinery, and irrigation equipment, not pretty houses.”
“I’m hardly Martha Stewart. I’m more sophisticated than that.” She’d noticed the houses here were not like those in the posh suburbs of Washington, D.C. where she lived and worked.
Rosemary continued on. “That old bunkhouse’ll be a challenge. Do you know it’s haunted?”
The bite of lemon meringue pie Fiona just swallowed stuck in her throat. She coughed and cleared her throat. “You’re kidding, of course. You’re trying to scare me off.”
They weren’t laughing.
“No, she’s serious,” said Esme. “Opal didn’t mention that?”
“No. There’s quite a bit Opal hadn’t mentioned about the bunk house. She said it sat on a knoll with a tree and had a nice view. I came out to take a look.” She didn’t mention that it was payment for being Opal’s alibi in the arson investigation of her brother Albert’s house after it went up in flames. She had envisioned a bunk house a little different than what she got. “I can’t say that a ghost excites me. Does the ghost have a name?”
“Ghosts, plural,” said Rosemary. She leaned in, warming to her story. “There’s a cross cut into that tree by the bunkhouse. Folks say they found a human skull and a belt buckle from the 1870s under that tree.”
“What happened to the remains?” Fiona rubbed the goose flesh on her arms though the day was warm.
“Disappeared. Nobody knows. But in the old days when Opal used that bunk house for the ranch hands, they complained of hearing voices arguing in the wee hours of the morning. Gunshots sometimes.”
Fiona frowned. Sharing a house with ghosts was not in her plans. She wondered again about the wisdom of coming here. Her new duds itched and that reminded her of what a green horn she was. Her safe, comfortable condo in Northern Virginia beckoned. No spiders or rats. No creatures that bit or stung.
“Hey,” said Esme, “we’re scaring you. Don’t listen to us. We had too many beers, and our tongues are loose. You be quiet now, you hear, Rosemary?”
Rosemary grinned. “Fiona’s a big girl. She looks like she can take care of herself. But if I were you, I’d get me a nice looking buckaroo like Jake to keep your bed warm at night, keep you safe from ghosts.”
They laughed, and Esme said, “Now you know Suzie wouldn’t like to hear you talk like that about Jake. You’ll make her jealous.”
“Make her jealous? Ha, she was born green with envy.”
Fiona glanced around. “Who’s Suzie? Jake never mentioned a girl friend.”
Rosemary shrugged. “Suzie thinks she owns every good looking man in the valley. Don’t pay attention to her, if you’re sweet on Jake.”
“I’m not sweet on Jake. I hardly know him.”
That wasn’t entirely true, but Fiona was rattled to hear that Jake might have a sweetheart. They had spent an intense two weeks together last fall. She hadn’t seen him since. Opal was the one who had nagged her to come out to re-do her ranch house and what with Fiona’s other high income projects and the month long trip to Australia, it was June before she hit the high desert.
Both ladies looked at her and smiled.
“Really, I’m not interested in him in the least.”
“We’ll fix you up with someone else then. Maybe Sheriff Hoover. He’s available.”
Sheriff Hoover strode over to their table as if he’d heard his name mentioned. He tipped his hat to Fiona. “Evening. I hear you are new to these parts. I’ll guard you from the wolves around here.” He smiled at his little joke.
Fiona wasn’t sure she needed Sheriff Hoover’s protection. He was tall and lanky with a ready smile in a rugged face. He didn’t look threatening, but she had always been wary of law enforcement types. She had too many speeding tickets. There was that problem of the ghosts though.
“Fiona’s curious about Hank Little and his missing wives,” said Esme. “Any new developments?”
The Sheriff leaned in. “There’s been bones found in the rubble of a slash pile burn.”
“No,” said Esme. “Where?”
“Can’t say right now. We’re investigating.”
“Might be more. There’s a lot of slash piles up in the mountains.”
Sheriff Hoover pressed his lips tight and shook his head. He wasn’t sharing any more information.
Esme said, “Fiona here might need your help with the ghosts up at the bunk house when they start bothering her.”
Sheriff Hoover turned his full attention on Fiona. “I wouldn’t listen to these two. There are no ghosts in that old place.”
“Yes, there are,” said Rosemary. “Sure as my name is Rosemary there are. Opal knows about them.”
“You listen to me,” the Sheriff said. “Any time you have ghost trouble you call me. I’ll come running.” He pulled out a well-stuffed wallet, drew out a card, and laid it by Fiona’s plate. “My cell phone number is on there. Don’t hesitate to call.”
He tipped his hat and returned to his rowdy companions.
“Wow,” said Rosemary. “You made a conquest, Fiona. I do believe the Sheriff’s got eyes for you. Jake’s going to be jealous now.”
“You two are bad,” Fiona said. She picked up the card and studied it. “You never know when I may need this.” She waggled it in front of them.
“Don’t look now but here comes Jake,” said Esme.
Jake stopped by Fiona’s side. “Are these ladies bothering you?” asked Jake, addressing Fiona.
“No. They are excellent conversationalists and first rate gossips.”
“Myself, I wouldn’t believe a word they say. Better be careful.”
She smiled. “I’m always careful.”
That declaration set Rosemary and Esme into gales of laughter. Fiona found she liked teasing with them. It didn’t take much to amuse these gals.
“If you’re afraid,” Jake said, “I’ll be glad to walk you up the knoll to your new home when you are ready to leave. But you won’t want to leave yet. The dancing should start soon.”