He brought back two and began to peel his. I thought perhaps he was going to ignore my request, but he began talking. “Estelle was expelled from one school for a stunt she pulled that resulted in injury to another girl. It was harmless, but it looked bad then and it could also look bad now.”
“What happened?”
“No one knows the exact details, because Estelle would never talk about it. Not even to defend herself. But Lisa, a girl in her dormitory, fell from a second-floor window. The headmaster said Estelle put Lisa up to edging out on the brickwork and pretending that she was going to jump. This was a diversion so Estelle could sneak out of the dormitory.”
“She was trying to get home?”
“Yeah.” He ate the banana. “She was miserable at boarding school. She hated being away from Mom, and she hated the other girls.”
“You went away to school also. Was it like that for you?”
“It was okay for me.” He took my peel and tossed it in the trash. “I hated being at home and I made friends easily. For Estelle, it was torture. She was shy and self-conscious, and she had this need to be at home to protect Mom.” His laugh was bitter. “She didn’t understand that no one could protect Mom from Mom.”
“How seriously was her classmate injured?”
“Two broken legs. Nothing fatal.”
“I’m guessing she slipped?”
“Yeah. There was never any doubt about that. Estelle was already headed out the gate of the school where she’d finagled a ride to the train station. She was held accountable, though, for thinking up the plan.”
Estelle had a cunning mind and an interesting ability to get others to go along with her plans. Had she convinced Suzy Dutton to meet her in the canyon so she could push her over the cliff?
That reminded me that I needed to check in with Sheriff King to see what the final determination in Suzy’s death was.
“If you hear from your sister, will you let me know?”
“Sure. But I’m going to tell her you’re looking for her. I’m not going to betray her.”
That wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but it wasn’t worth an argument. “Fine. Tell her to please call me or your father. On a related topic, do you know who damaged the cameras on the first day of shooting?”
“That was probably Estelle. She all but said she’d done it. Lucky for Dad she doesn’t know enough about cameras to really tear one up.”
“Yeah, lucky.” I rose and walked to the door. With my hand on the frame, I paused. “Ricardo, have you seen anyone strange here in the house?”
He rolled his eyes. “The ghost?”
I nodded.
“Dallas and Sally were asking me about it, too. There’s some old story that this house is haunted. My grandfather would love that. Heck, he may have started it.”
“Do you know who supposedly haunts the house?”
“Estelle always believed it was Mom. Some people say it’s a woman in a dark dress, which sounds like the portrait of Mom in the room you’re in. I think people want a little thrill, so they see a shadow and create this whole legend.”
“So you haven’t seen the ghost and you don’t believe there is one?”
“That sums it up.”
“Thanks.” I hurried down the corridor toward my room. At the stairs that led to the third floor, I hesitated. It was late in the day. Graf had gone to talk to Sally and Dallas, but he was surely finished by now. The third floor, by all rights, should be empty.
I took my shoes off and crept up the stairs. A lot of mysterious things were happening on the third floor. Disappearing ghosts, locked-up dogs. It was hard to snoop when people were going to and fro to costume and makeup. This was a perfect opportunity.
I eased into the hallway and listened. I heard only silence, except for the gentle tinkle of the wind chimes that still hung outside.
Moving silently along the wall, I paused before each door to listen. If Estelle was hiding in the house, she was quiet as a church mouse. I thought I heard a dull pounding, but it was only my heartbeat in my ears. The silence was downright scary. I’d never heard a house so soundless, as if even the past had been sucked from it.
The doors to the ballroom were open, and I glanced around, half hoping someone was still working in costume or makeup. I’d managed to frighten myself just a tad, and some company would have been welcome.
White screens made small dressing rooms that were like ghostly alcoves all over the huge room. Dresses and outfits hung on dressmaker dummies, giving the illusion that someone was there. It was a creepy place. I was about to leave when I heard a soft thumping sound. This time I knew it wasn’t my imagination.
I couldn’t be certain, but it sounded like kicking. Or something thudding, step by step, down a flight of stairs.
Something really awful was nagging at the back of my mind, but I pushed hard to keep it submerged.
Walking through the sheet-draped alcoves, I felt like every idiotic teen in every idiotic teen horror movie. I’d sat in many an audience screaming, “Don’t go up the stairs! Don’t open the door! Don’t go in the laundry room!” And yet here I was, walking through a room that looked like a set for some psycho lurker to jump out and grab me.
I heard the thudding again, but it seemed neither closer nor farther away. In the maze of the screens, I’d lost my bearings in the huge room. I kept walking, slowly, moving and wishing that Tinkie or Graf or Sweetie or Chablis would appear and laugh at my foolishness. I’d just spied the exit and began to make my way there and back to the safety of the second floor when the strange notes of a pianoforte came from a corner of the ballroom.
In the times I’d been in costume and makeup, I’d never noticed such an instrument. The skin on the back of my neck and my arms marched crazily around in goose bumps.
I recognized the tune, though I couldn’t name it.
A woman’s voice, low and sultry, began to sing, “Hush, hush, sweet Charlotte.”
My blood literally ran cold. I knew that song. The movie had terrorized me as a child when “John’s” head tumbles down the stairs and lands at Bette Davis’s feet.
That was the thudding. That was the sound. John’s head thumping step by step as it rolled to the bottom!
I wheeled and spun to beat it back to the second floor when I heard a delicious giggle, warm and rich.
There was something about that giggle that stopped me. It came again, far too amused to be dangerous. I knew who it was.
“Jitty!” I’d been had by a haint. “Jitty, you’d better show yourself!”
She came out from behind one of the screens wearing the layered tulle ball gown that Bette Davis had worn in the movie. The front of the dress was covered in a huge bloodstain.
“John!” She came toward me holding out bloody hands. “John! Don’t leave me!”
“Stop it.” I backed away from her. I couldn’t help it, even though I knew she wasn’t “Charlotte.” She was thoroughly convincing.
She wiped her hands on the gown. “See, you’re not the only Delaney who can act. You should see your face. You thought my heel whackin’ the floor was ole John’s head tumblin’ along, didn’t you?”
“If you weren’t dead I’d probably kill you.” I was exasperated and panting from fear, but I was also glad to see her. “What are you doing here?”
“Watching out for you.”
“Thanks. You’ve got a real unique way of showing it.” I took a deep breath and regained my composure. “Got any good tips for me?”
She looked around the room. “There’s something really strange about this house. I haven’t gotten a handle on it yet, but I’ll get back with you. In the meantime, you’d better check in with that man of yours. He’s looking for you.”
She shimmered away, and before she was completely gone, I heard Graf calling my name.
“Be right there!” I yelled and beat it out the door before I had a chance to get lost again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN