Moonstone Shadows Page 4

  Her big autumn eyes widened as she took in the scene of Carmel bleeding on her own doorstep, with Aaron and Harvey standing over the body, wielding heavy staffs.

  Aaron waited for the condemnation, the disgust, and the accusations.

  “I heard heavy feet running,” was all she said as Kurt fell to his knees beside his mother. “Did you see anyone?”

  The question was directed at him, and possibly Harvey and the security guard. Sensible, Aaron supposed, since she really didn’t know any of them, and the innocent would assume the guilty would flee.

  “We heard screams. You may have heard us running toward them. I haven’t seen anyone else.” Aaron turned to Kurt, who’d hidden any emotion beyond shock as he sat back on his heels. “You need to call Walker. I didn’t sense any vibrations while touching her. I probably need the murder weapon to pick up anything useful. I don’t want to touch anything without Walker’s permission.”

  Kurt knew about Aaron’s psychometry, that he could possibly read the killer’s thoughts on a weapon. That didn’t mean the Null fully grasped what Aaron was telling him.

  Roper, the lodge manager, helped Carmel’s stricken son to return to his feet. Behind them, Hannah appeared to have taken Aaron’s comment as a request to hunt for a murder weapon. Strange woman. Shouldn’t she be having one of her fainting fits?

  “I don’t see anything in here,” she said, staying inside the lighted room. “I’m not a sensitive. Do you have anyone who can lay her spirit to rest?”

  Harvey had stayed in the shadows, lowering his chant to a mumble. The Hispanic security guard appeared to accept the prayers for what they were. The city boy manager did not. Fred Roper and Carmel had been much alike. Roper was accustomed to dealing with the wealthy and pampered and considered Lucys as little more than practitioners of voodoo.

  Walking the line between superstition and reality required balance and wording his reply carefully. “In this case, a spirit circle could be dangerous, especially for women,” Aaron told her, keeping it vague. “You need to stay back. Harvey and I will hold the fort. Call Cass and Keegan, maybe.”

  Hannah’s eyes narrowed as she processed what he didn’t say aloud. He was calling for men and a woman past the age of fertility. If the schoolteacher knew as much as she claimed, she’d work it out. The teacher had seen Carmel in action and had to suspect the evil behind the madness, right? He didn’t want evil finding an unborn child.

  To his relief, the teacher intelligently left the room. Aaron was pretty certain they were all disturbing a crime scene. Walker would have to sort it out.

  Hillvale’s chief of police arrived in company with Cass not long after. The prescient old woman had probably called Walker before security had. Keegan arrived a few moments after them. That Val, their self-proclaimed death goddess, hadn’t arrived said more about the hatred between her and Carmel than her failure to recognize a death.

  With his weird mix of Asian and Irish pragmatism and superstition, Walker gestured for everyone to move away to allow the ritual. While the Lucys gathered, Roper led Kurt deeper into the room and out of sight. Aaron hoped he was leading Hannah away as well.

  Even though Cass and Carmel had despised each other, sorrow shadowed Cass’s eyes as she passed her walking stick over the body. “There is nothing here,” she said with a hint of grimness. “Her soul is long gone. Aaron, what do you feel?”

  He and Harvey held up their crystal-knobbed sticks. Spirits were drawn to the crystal, but no light glimmered from within.

  “I think whoever did this was angry.” Aaron didn’t want to theorize in front of disbelievers. Walker was married to a Lucy and accepted weirdness, but there was no point in pushing his credulity.

  Raising his stick to meet the others, the big Scot studied the bushes providing privacy to Carmel’s back door. Honest to a fault and oblivious to the security guards, he spoke what he thought. “I’m not any more sensitive than Hannah. But if evil exists, as you say, I can see where Mrs. Kennedy could have spontaneously invoked it in anyone to whom she spoke. Perhaps we should look for someone weeping and shaking with fear at what they’ve done.”

  At least he hadn’t mentioned the possibility of evil spirits escaping Carmel.

  Finished with taping off the crime scene, their chief of police intervened. “I know you clowns mean well, but you really are not a psychic detective agency. Dispel the spirits and go home. I know where to find you if I need you.”

  “We should give her a respectful farewell,” Cass suggested. “She raised two good men and held this place together on nothing for years.”

  Carmel might have been arrogant, selfish to the point of narcissism, and half-mad, but she’d been a survivor. Aaron agreed that her sons deserved to see her treated with respect.

  To his relief, Hannah appeared on the sidewalk behind them, keeping her distance. The librarian’s voice lifted with Cass’s, making it easier for Aaron to mumble his way through the words.

  Kurt arrived, accompanied by Monty, apparently having gone around the building like Hannah, so as not to disturb the suite. As Nulls, the brothers didn’t participate. But they bowed their heads as if they were in church, offering respect to Cass as well as their mother.

  For this moment of sorrow, accusations didn’t fly. That would happen in the clear light of day, Aaron knew, once the shock had evaporated and grief and fear took over.

  Hannah cradled her elbows and clung to the rhythm of ancient rituals, closing her eyes to the dimly lit scene.

  In his dark blazer, carrying a heavy walking staff, standing strong and imperious against the night sky, Aaron appeared capable of bringing down stars. That much power was frightening, and she pushed away any thought of how he might wield it to remove dangerous spirits like Carmel’s.

  Birth and death in one day had shaken her to the core, leaving her raw and exposed, even though she barely knew the people involved.

  Carmel might have been half mad, but she’d been vibrantly alive a few hours ago. Now, she was no more than empty flesh adorned with gold.

  The Lucys drifted away as more policemen and a man she assumed was the coroner arrived. The musician slipped into the woods, apparently as uncomfortable with company as a skittish deer. Hannah stuck close to her cousin Keegan, not wanting to return to her room. Aaron stalked ahead of them, a black cloud practically circling his dark head.

  After speaking with the Kennedys, Cass joined them. “This happened on our doorstep,” she said crisply. “We cannot leave it to outsiders.”

  “You’re not the law, Cass,” Aaron said heavily. “Walker might listen to us, but the sheriff won’t. He’ll follow procedures.”

  “Which will point to all of us. I’m not a doddering old fool who doesn’t understand how the world works. Everyone knew Carmel hated Lucys, mostly because of me. Monty and Kurt are living with Lucys, so even they are suspect. We must employ all our abilities.”

  “My gift isn’t useful for your purpose, but if you need Mariah, I’ll sit with the baby while she works,” Keegan offered.

  “Everyone will sit with the baby if needed,” Cass said with a hint of humor. “But we’ll need suspects before Mariah can investigate them.”

  “We’ll need suspects before any of us can investigate,” Aaron said dryly. “It’s not as if you can run everyone in the lodge through Amber’s tarot shop, Teddy’s empathy, or past Fee’s nose. I’ll test Carmel’s room when Walker says it’s safe to go in, but usually it is emotional overload that imprints most clearly on objects. I need the murder weapon—which you will note, could very well have been a Lucy stick.”

  “I’m not very useful,” Hannah said quietly. “But I know organization. If you feed me everything you find, I can set up a system where you might start making connections.”

  “Samantha will let us know what Walker finds. Mariah can dig out anything the sheriff keeps from him. We’ll start there,” Cass said with confidence. “I don’t think any Lucy is capable of such violence, but let’s keep
a low profile around the Nulls.”

  Did Hannah imagine it, or had Aaron’s wide shoulders just relaxed a trifle? And why was she noticing?

  They reached the front of the lodge where the drive was filled with official vehicles, their lights turned off so as not to disturb the guests.

  “I’ll take you home, Cass,” Keegan offered. “Hannah, I don’t know if it’s safe for you to stay if the killer knows you turned in the alarm. Aaron, can you store her in your place for tonight?”

  “I don’t want to be stored anywhere,” she said with annoyance. “I’m sure half a dozen people reported screaming before I did. Besides, my luggage is here.”

  “You’re fine,” Aaron mocked. “But as we have already established, you’re not fine. Give me your key. Stay here with Keegan, and I’ll fetch your bags.”

  “You will do no such thing,” she objected. “For all I know, you have a fetish for women’s undies. I managed to travel all the way here without anyone’s aid. I’ll be fine.”

  “Hannah, there is a killer loose in the lodge. We’ll all sleep better tonight if our librarian is not under the same roof as evil,” Cass said patiently. “Aaron does not sleep in his shop. You’ll be. . . fine,” she added, her amusement more pronounced than earlier.

  Oh, crap, even she knew better than to argue with the town’s doyenne. Resentfully, Hannah stalked up the front walk toward the lobby with Aaron on her heels.

  Men in uniform were interviewing guests and employees in the conference room and business office. One stopped them on the way through, checking off their names on a list. Hannah heard Aaron mutter, but the chief had been efficient in gathering names and addresses. Hannah didn’t recognize the address listed for her, but it was local, so they were allowed to proceed.

  “You gave my address as your shop?” she guessed as she unlocked her room, wishing she’d never left it.

  Aaron shrugged and waited for her to gather her possessions. “Walker probably did. He and the county sheriff have a working agreement. The sheriff doesn’t touch Walker’s people because he knows Hillvale residents are weird. Hillvale can’t afford a forensic team, so Walker calls in the sheriff for major crime. But Walker has as much experience or more than the sheriff. He owns a fancy corporate detective agency in LA and has services at his beck and call that the sheriff doesn’t—provided someone pays for them.”

  “Symbiotic,” Hannah said with grudging approval. “Thank you for explaining. And thank you for allowing me to stay in your place even though you don’t want me there.”

  His eyes were shuttered as he took the rolling suitcase from her hand. “You’d be better off in Cass’s bright and airy studio. I’ll talk Josh into moving out in the morning.”

  “Not if he’s the millionaire paying for the school. I’ll be. . . content. . . with a roof over my head.” She added her backpack to her smaller carry-on bag and followed him down the hall.

  He snorted. “You might be content, if you’re not a sensitive. Otherwise, you’ll want out soon enough. Maybe Kurt can add a room for you at the school. It’s not as if you’ll need the whole top floor for one student.”

  The contents of his store didn’t appeal to sensitives? But he, apparently, knew how to block their unpleasantness. She almost wanted to have the gift of psychometry so she could find out what he was hiding. Could she hope the Healing Stone painting was there?

  She kept her reply light. “I might like that—no commute. I was starting to wonder how I would get up and down the mountain every day if I stayed here.” She walked beside him, keeping her hands engaged and resisting touching him. She was raw and afraid and she simply didn’t need her dark knight walking out of her head and into her life.

  Apparently exhausting his communicative limits, Aaron silently led the way back to his vehicle. From the high seat of the van driving down the mountain, Hannah could see an occasional light in the creases and crevasses surrounding town. Could she make her home here, become part of these people? Keegan had done it.

  She’d wait until she met Mariah and toured the schoolroom before becoming too comfortable. She could always go back to her family in San Francisco, but she really didn’t want them hovering over her as if she were an invalid. If the knot in her head didn’t grow, she could live quite a long while. Only time would tell.

  Five

  Aaron parked his van in the town lot and opened the back to remove Hannah’s suitcases. Most of the shopping district was dark at this hour, but a light streamed from beneath the gallery doors. Once an old church, it had been turned into a community center and art gallery—which Lance Brooks, Carmel’s brother operated. Deodamnatus. Had anyone told Lance?

  As Hannah lifted out her smaller suitcase, Aaron nodded at the lit doors they’d have to pass. “I need to check on Carmel’s brother. He’s had problems in the past and might need someone with him.”

  “Yes, Keegan has mentioned him. He’s sort of a lost soul, an architect who lost his heart and head to drugs during the commune days, right?” She lifted her bag so it didn’t roll noisily down the boardwalk.

  “He’s been doing reasonably well these last years. I’m uncertain how much he relied on Carmel.” Aaron eased open the broad church door.

  Benches lined the center of the gallery. A track light had been placed to illuminate the triptych of Hillvale, displayed in what once would have been the apse behind an altar. It took a moment before his eyes adjusted to find Lance’s gray-blond hair. The tall artist was seated on one of the benches—next to the equally tall woman who called herself the Death Goddess.

  Val had gone to Lance instead of singing over Carmel’s missing soul. Interesting. Val always knew when someone died in Hillvale. She’d have told Lance.

  Aaron backed out and closed the door. “He’s in good hands,” was all he said.

  Hannah appeared to take his word for it and quietly followed him down the boardwalk. He liked people who didn’t chatter and question everything he said or did.

  It would be better if she chattered so he could despise her.

  He didn’t turn on the shop overheads as he led the librarian through his crowded store. There were night lights scattered about, enough to see familiar paths through the clutter to the stairway in the rear. If she taught all day maybe her presence here at night wouldn’t bother him. He had his own home elsewhere. It could work—for a while.

  He held his breath as she ran her fingers over an inlaid coffee table he’d stacked on top of one with a tiled top. The tiled one had been created by an old man dying of cancer. The inlaid one had held a gun used to murder a young mother. He assumed both had been sold by grieving families. He didn’t like letting that level of tragedy into the universe, so he stored it here until he figured out what to do with it.

  She didn’t react to the tables. Impatiently, he waited as she glanced longingly at the walls of books along the perimeter—until she aimed straight for the two large wardrobes on those same walls. Maybe she thought they contained books. The wardrobes were rosewood and mahogany works of art, exuding happiness that concealed the plain black frame between them from Lucy sensitivities.

  Not from Hannah. Her hand reached in the direction of the damned hidden work, but he’d stacked too much furniture in front of it. Shaking her head in puzzlement, she stepped away and continued toward the back of the shop.

  Crap. Now he’d have to move it again. If the thing was so strong even non-sensitives could feel it, it might need a lead box.

  She didn’t say anything as he took her upstairs and introduced her to a room not much larger than the one she’d had at the lodge. Dressed in that ridiculously inappropriate sarong, she simply pointed at a place to put her suitcases. He admired the way the light fabric swayed with her hips, revealing well-proportioned legs, but she wasn’t his type. He preferred glamorous women, ones who drew attention when he took them out to dinner. Trapped as he was up here, he needed that occasional dip into the world he’d left behind.

  Fortunately, Hannah
was as plain as her name, appropriate for a teacher and a librarian, so he could steer his course away. Obviously, she was a female, with curves in all the right places, but she’d be back in her practical baggy khakis in the morning. He’d be. . . fine.

  “This is perfect, thank you,” she told him politely. “I’ll try to find another place as soon as possible.”

  “Kurt and Monty own most of the town. They’ll know what’s best. You won’t be afraid here alone?” The vibrations on some of his inventory were so strong that even he was reluctant to spend the night here.

  She looked surprised. “Of course not. I’ve slept quite comfortably in drafty castles populated with ghosts. I’m simply not aware of the spirits as you are.”

  It was almost a relief to think ridiculous things and have someone understand. “All right, good. I come in around nine-thirty and open the shop at ten. I can’t promise quiet after that. I have internet. The password and the spare shop keys are in the desk. Good-night.” He handed over the room key and backed out quickly.

  Was it his imagination, or did that damned evil painting hum in anticipation as he walked out and locked up? He’d order a lead box in the morning.

  Having napped half the day, Hannah slept restlessly that night. Images of Aaron with his sparkling walking stick held high blended with those of the golden woman sprawled across her doorstep with blood trickling from her hair.

  Could a single blow kill a woman?

  She woke with that question in mind, followed by—wouldn’t a body fall forward if struck from behind? In which case, Carmel must have been leaving her suite when someone inside hit her. Aaron had been outside.

  But as the chief had said, she was no detective. She’d leave speculation to those who knew what they were doing. It was bad enough sleeping under the roof of a convicted felon without suspecting Aaron to also be a ruthless killer.