Something Buried, Something Blue Read online

  Maybe there’s an attraction brewing between them.

  Or maybe Virginia, too, is suspicious of the man who came out of nowhere and has a questionable connection to the bride’s past.

  Right now, Bella doesn’t know, or care, about any of that. Her thoughts are on Max.

  Try as she might to reassure herself, Millicent has made her wonder.

  She unlocks the door, steps into the Rose Room, and impulsively locks it after her. As she redials Drew’s number, she sees that most of the kittens are now asleep, including Li’l Chap. He’s snuggled, along with little Spidey, against a vigilant Chance, whose gaze meets Bella’s. She offers a slow blink.

  Just minutes ago, Bella was wishing Drew were here to lend a strong, comforting presence in the midst of tragedy and bedlam. Now . . .

  He answers the phone on the first ring. “Bella? We’re just walking in the door. It took us a while to get here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At my house, like I told you.”

  She can hear a dog barking wildly in the background.

  “And Max is there?”

  “Max and Jiffy. And my little animal kingdom,” he adds, over the barking. “Hey, guys, careful not to knock over those stacks of papers. They’re organized, believe it or not.”

  “It’s kind of messy in here,” Bella hears Max say in the background, and the tension cord constricting her heart loosens enough for her to start breathing again.

  “It is messy,” Drew agrees. “One of these days I’ll clean it up.”

  “Do you got any snacks?” Jiffy’s voice asks.

  “You just ate dinner.”

  “Not for me! For her!”

  “Hang on and I’ll let you feed her. But don’t let her put her paws on your shoulders. She’s bigger than you are. She’ll push you right down!”

  Bella hears laughter, and more barking.

  “Sorry,” Drew says into the phone. “I rescued a greyhound puppy a few weeks ago. She’s excited to see the boys.”

  He’s a kind man who rescues animals, Bella reminds herself. Puppies . . . kittens . . . even ducklings.

  “Can I please talk to Max for a minute?”

  “Sure. Hang on. Hey, Max, your mom wants to say hi. And then you’re going to call your mom and say hi, too, Jiffy.”

  “We already called her. She doesn’t need me to say hi again.”

  “Yes, she does. I told her you’d call her when you got here so that she won’t worry.”

  Listening to them discuss whether Jiffy’s mom will worry—a genuinely debatable question, as far as Bella is concerned—she’s relieved by the ordinary images in her mind’s eye. A messy bachelor pad, an overgrown, overzealous puppy, a couple of curious kids.

  “Hi, Mom! Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Doctor Drew doesn’t make his bed!”

  She smiles and nudges her mind’s eye to move past Doctor Drew’s rumpled sheets. “What did you have for dinner?”

  “Chicken wings. What did you have for dinner?”

  Her smile fades as she remembers the dinner that was supposed to be served to the happy newlyweds and their guests.

  “I haven’t eaten dinner yet,” she tells Max. “Are you okay with sleeping over at Doctor Drew’s house tonight?”

  I want you there, safe, with him. I trust him.

  “Yes!” Max shouts. “We’re going to sleep on the couch with Peewee! She’s the best dog ever!”

  “She’s a puppy, by the way,” Jiffy says in the background.

  “She’s a giant puppy, by the way,” Max tells Bella. “That’s why her name is so silly.”

  Certain Max is in competent hands, Bella tells him goodnight and asks him to put Drew back on the line.

  “Thank you for taking good care of him,” she tells Drew.

  “Not a problem. I’ve never had kids over here before. It’s nice . . . for the animals.”

  And maybe for their master as well, Bella thinks.

  “One quick thing, Drew. You know that kitten from the yard?”

  “The little chap?”

  “Yes. I know you said not to, but I brought him inside when the storm hit.”

  He assures her it was the right thing to do, then adds, “I can’t believe you finally remembered.”

  “Remembered what?”

  “To call me Drew.”

  She did, didn’t she? The word fell out of her mouth just as readily as Maleficent had earlier.

  She hangs up the phone, relieved that at least her mother-in-law had been wrong about one of “them.”

  But then, Drew Bailey isn’t part of Lily Dale.

  Now that the perfect wedding has ended in tragedy, she and Max won’t be, either. She needs to tell Grant what’s going on.

  So much for Wedding Bella.

  She quickly changes out of the green silk dress. She returns it to its hanger, but not to the closet, certain she’ll never want to wear it again. It’s wrong for her figure, and it’s . . .

  Tainted.

  She hangs it from a curtain rod for now and swiftly dials another familiar number, hoping her phone’s battery will hold out a little longer.

  Luther doesn’t answer on the first ring, or even the third. Just when she expects the call to bounce into voice mail, he picks up, sounding a bit harried and out of breath.

  “Are you in the middle of something?” she asks, suspecting that he has female company.

  “My roof is leaking and I’m bailing the kitchen. This is some storm and the roads are bad. I hope you’re safe at home.”

  “I’m home . . .”

  But is she safe?

  In a rush, she tells him what happened to Johneen. Predictably, he’s dismayed and troubled by the news.

  “It was a medical problem?” he echoes. “Are you sure?”

  “Doesn’t that seem strange? She was young and healthy.”

  “It happens. Maybe she had an undiagnosed heart condition. Or an aneurysm.”

  “Maybe.” Those theories make so much sense that Bella almost doesn’t want to mention the rest of it—the ring and the phone—and ask him the question weighing on her mind.

  When he tells her he has to hurry back to his leaky roof, she blurts, “Can a person get away with murder by making it look like natural causes? Or does that only happen in fiction?”

  There’s a long pause.

  “It happens. Not just in fiction. I’ve seen a few cases.”

  “How does it happen?”

  “Bella, are you thinking someone tried to kill Johneen Maynard?”

  “No.” She clears her throat. “Maybe.”

  “Why? Is it because of that letter?”

  “Not just that. It’s—” It’s so many things, she doesn’t even know where to begin. “Pandora Feeney thinks—”

  Luther cuts her off with a groan. “Pandora lives to stir up trouble.”

  Wrong place to begin. Bella doesn’t want Luther to discount her suspicions just because Pandora can be less than credible.

  “I know what you’re thinking, but Pandora saw something that made her think—”

  “Did she see something?” Luther asks. “Or did she . . . you know, see something?”

  In other words, did she witness a crime, or is she relying purely on a psychic vision?

  “She saw something. In her head,” Bella admits. “She saw hands wrapped around Johneen’s throat. She said that was Spirit shorthand, but . . . is it possible for strangulation to be mistaken for a medical condition?”

  “No,” he says flatly. “It isn’t. Not like that. I don’t suppose the divine Ms. Feeney happened to mention whose hands she saw? Or a potential motive?”

  “No, she didn’t. But it could have been Johneen’s jealous ex.”

  “Do you have his name?”

  “No. If you can hang on, I can let you talk to Parker’s cousin, Virginia. She—”

  “Wait a minute,” he says. “Back up. Before we drag anyone else into this, I ne
ed more information from you, because this all sounds . . . well, you know.”

  Yes. She knows.

  And she knows he isn’t entirely skeptical, although he’s no fan of Pandora Feeney. Like Odelia, he’s convinced the woman is a busybody. In some ways, that’s true.

  But it doesn’t mean she doesn’t care, and it doesn’t mean she isn’t gifted—if you’re the kind of person who believes there’s something to Spiritualism.

  Some detectives are open to working with psychics, and Luther is one of them.

  Just—not all psychics.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Pandora wrote that letter you told me about,” he tells Bella. “She’s been seeing murder and mayhem at every turn ever since Leona died. I heard from a friend at the precinct that she keeps calling the crime hotline with tips.”

  Bella doesn’t doubt it. Still . . .

  She quickly explains about Pandora’s visit this afternoon, then tells him about the letter’s disappearance, and the ring’s, and her cell phone’s.

  “You say your phone is back, but the photos are gone?”

  “Yes, but I sent a copy to Grant Everard. I was thinking maybe I could see if I can access them from the e-mail and see if there’s anything unusual in them, but I haven’t had a chance.”

  “That’s a good idea. You should—” He breaks off with a curse.

  “Luther?”

  “Sorry. I just skated across my kitchen floor. There’s a flood in here. I need to take care of this. But listen, Bella, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Can you ask your friends at the hospital what’s going on?”

  “What makes you think I have friends at the hospital?”

  “You have friends everywhere. See what you can find out. Please? For me?”

  “For you, I’ll do it, but I probably won’t hear right away.”

  “Thank you. Do you want to talk to Virginia?”

  “You say she told you she’s law enforcement?”

  “She didn’t exactly . . . tell me. I overheard.” She stops short of mentioning that she was eavesdropping . . . or that she snooped around and found Virginia’s weapon and badge.

  “I do want to talk to her, but give me some time to take care of this flood or build an ark or something.”

  She forces a laugh.

  “I may sound like I’m taking your situation lightly, but I’m not,” he tells her. “You don’t feel like you might be in danger, do you?”

  She hesitates. “I’m not sure.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t stay there tonight. Why don’t you and Max come here?”

  “Because the roads are blocked,” she reminds him. “Anyway, Max is at Drew’s house, so I’m not worried about him. Should I be? You know, because of the storm and all?” she adds, not wanting to admit she’d had a moment of doubt over Drew earlier, and again now.

  Darn you, Maleficent.

  “Drew Bailey is a rock. He’s one of the best men I know. You can rest assured that nothing is going to happen to Max with him around. Just watch your step at Valley View, okay? And see if you can get copies of those photos.”

  “I will. And I’ll tell Virginia—”

  “Don’t tell her anything just yet, Bella. Okay? Don’t tell anyone anything. Including Odelia.”

  “Odelia?” She frowns. “You don’t think—”

  “I don’t know what I think. I guess I need to be able to think. But right now, it’s raining harder in my kitchen than it is outside. I’ll get back to you, I promise.”

  She hangs up and looks around at the peacefully sleeping felines. As much as she’d like to hide away in the Rose Room with them until morning, she has to go downstairs and see if she can access those missing photos. Her phone’s battery needs to be charged, and it will be much easier to study them on a computer screen anyway.

  Outside in the night, thunder is still booming ominously. Luther’s words, echoing in her head, are just as persistent.

  Don’t tell anyone anything. Including Odelia.

  She plugs in her phone and reluctantly leaves it on the nightstand, locking the Rose Room securely behind her.

  What good will that do, though, if someone has the keys or wants to crawl in through the tunnel?

  She slowly descends the stairs, taking her time. Blue and Virginia are no longer perched at the bottom. She can hear the teakettle whistling in the kitchen, muffled conversation in the living room, rain and thunder.

  Is it possible that someone under this roof isn’t who he—or she—appears to be?

  What if—

  Startled by an explosion, she stops short and grips the railing.

  Her first thought is that it was a gunshot.

  But the house is plunged into darkness, and she realizes that it was a tree snapping outside, bringing down wires and knocking out the power.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bella has endured her share of difficult and endless nights—most of them within the past year.

  This, however, has been one of the worst.

  With her phone’s battery dead and the Internet down along with the power and phone lines, she has no way of reaching out to Luther again or even attempting to access the missing photos.

  She’s helpless to do anything but brood in the dark chill, surrounded by fretful people who are drinking too much or saying too much, complaining about things that can’t be helped.

  Pandora wants proper tea.

  Hellerman wants more bourbon, but the bottle is empty. He settles on Dom Pérignon but jostles it so much in his clumsy efforts to pop the cork that he sprays the kitchen and everyone in it with champagne.

  Everyone is wet, cold, uncomfortable, unbearably sad . . .

  Bella is all of those things, and afraid as well.

  Thank goodness for Virginia. She appears unafraid but vigilant. Bella longs to pull her aside and talk to her, but Luther said not to.

  Tanya weeps softly like a homesick little girl, missing her husband and daughter. “I just want to go home,” she says every so often, and somehow, the others refrain from snapping at her.

  Millicent, too, wants desperately to escape, though she hasn’t said much. She huddles around the flickering candles in the parlor with the rest of them, sipping hot improper tea and wrapped in one of the blankets Bella handed out when the room grew too chilly. Now she’s dozing on the sofa, her head resting on the arm at an uncomfortable angle.

  Nobody mentions Johneen, but her presence shrouds the room.

  “Gammy . . . you’re snoring.” Calla reaches over to nudge Odelia, who has, indeed, dozed off in a chair.

  She sits up straighter, yawning. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why don’t you go home to bed?”

  “Maybe I will. Come on with me.”

  “No, I want to stay here.” Calla doesn’t look at Blue, sitting beside her.

  Odelia does. “How about you?”

  “Me?”

  “You. Are you heading home?”

  “I don’t think I can get there,” he says as Calla rolls her eyes at her grandmother’s question and shakes her head silently.

  “Of course you can’t get there, mate.” Pandora is kneeling on the window seat, peering through the front windows. “You live outside the gate, and there are trees and wires down at the end of the lane. I can see them from here. But you can get next door, Odelia, and there’s a clear path across the park to my place. Come along, let’s be off.”

  Odelia taps the snoozing Millicent. “We’re going.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Next door. To bed. Come on.”

  Looking slightly dazed, Millicent gets to her feet without argument. Perhaps she’s too weary to remember that Odelia is the enemy, bent on brainwashing her grandson.

  “I’ll be back ’round in the morning to get my keyboard,” Pandora calls, headed for her pink cottage just across Melrose Park as Odelia and Millicent, stooped against the wind, hurry next door.

  Bella stands on the purple welcome mat and
watches the three shadowy female figures disappear into the night, pelted by an icy snow. It crystalizes along fallen tree branches and encrusts fallen leaves.

  Radiant frost . . .

  Virginia stands silently beside her, watching until they’re safely home, blowing white smoke into the arctic air.

  I know, Bella wants to say to her. I know you’re a cop. I know you think someone hurt Johneen. I know you think he might be out there . . . or in here.

  She’s too exhausted to form the words in one moment, too exhausted to hold them back in the next. She opens her mouth but hears a voice behind her before she can speak.

  “Think I should try it?” Blue asks, looking out into the storm.

  If he goes, Bella might feel safer, and yet . . .

  “No,” she hears herself say. Of course he shouldn’t try it. Beyond Odelia’s house, downed branches rise from the lane like the straining claws of a felled beast, entwined with live wires sparking dragon fire. The danger is there, Bella tells herself. Not here. Not with him.

  “You can sleep in Max’s bed,” she offers, and he thanks her.

  She closes the front door, shutting out the storm, then locks it. Inside, the rest of the guests are climbing the stairs to their own rooms.

  She might as well go to bed too, though she doubts she’ll sleep. She starts up and then turns to look back at Virginia, still standing thoughtfully by the closed door.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Not yet. Parker said that if she stabilizes, he’ll try to dash back here. He wants to change and get a few things he’ll need at the hospital. I’ll go back with him. I don’t want him there alone. He’s so upset.”

  Is he really coming back here while his wife is at death’s door?

  Or does Virginia just want to wait up to keep an eye on things?

  “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Bella offers.

  “No, that’s all right. You should go to bed.”

  Climbing Everest couldn’t be more daunting than this final trudge up the stairs. Every part of her aches with exhaustion. She hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since . . . when? Wednesday? Even then, she tossed and turned, worried about the wedding.

  She locks the Rose Room door securely behind her, pulls on a pair of flannel pajamas, and climbs into bed.