Amber Affairs Read online

  Amber nodded, even though Alicia couldn’t see her. “I’ll make some calls. Zeke is smart, but a kid that age doesn’t have many choices.”

  She started making to-do lists in her head while saying farewell to Alicia. Call the school, pretend she was Crystal, ask about finals. Call the neighbors to verify Crystal wasn’t home when Zeke was there so she could talk to him without her mother knowing. Who could she find to pick him up? She didn’t have a car, and LA to Hillvale was a long trek.

  Walker was from LA. Maybe he could make a trip to visit his office and pick up Zeke on the way home. Zeke would get a thrill out of a ride in an official police vehicle, and it would scare Crystal into temporary paralysis.

  Picturing her mother’s horror, Amber was almost smiling when Tullah burst into her shop.

  Amber had cast Tullah in her mind as an African Voodoo Queen. Tall and stately, normally composed and non-talkative, she ran a thrift shop that mysteriously provided anything anyone in town needed—when they needed it. She was one of Cass’s closest companions and presided over Lucy séances, but she seldom spoke of her gifts.

  “The spirit has Cass and won’t let go,” Tullah declared, her dark eyes wide with fear. “Bring your ball. We need to remove the spirit and store her somewhere safe before she takes over.”

  Amber trusted Tullah, but she didn’t do anything without questioning. “What ball? And where is Cass?”

  “Down by the vortex.” Tullah lifted the Austrian crystal and headed for the door. “That’s one angry ghost.”

  “The vortex?” In horror at the possibility of how the energies there could magnify power, Amber grabbed her walking stick and locked the door behind her. “There shouldn’t be any strong spirit in the vortex. We cleared them out.”

  But Tullah’s long legs had carried her half way down the boardwalk. Amber couldn’t possibly catch up.

  Aaron loped up from his antique store at the far end of town. He offered his arm to aid her down the step into the road. “I didn’t see the golf cart in the lot and thought you were already up there. Should I run back and get the ATV?”

  “I’m not riding on that menace. I’ll be fine. Tullah has the crystal ball. If she can’t handle this, I’m sure I can’t. Go on and see what you can do.”

  “Not much except carry bodies out,” Aaron said fatalistically, before breaking into a run up the hill to the amphitheater—the wedding chapel to the tourists.

  She’d never been athletic, but she was embarrassed that she walked slower than an old lady. She should have had the knee surgery back when she’d hurt it, but escaping Dell and Crystal had been of more importance at the time. And now—it was too late.

  She hoped Teddy and Mariah were there. They had strong spirit talents. Teddy had once encountered a particularly violent apparition in her attic—a vengeful murder victim who’d been dead a decade and still had the power to shove men down stairs. Did spirits build up energy over time? Cass inhabited by an angry ghost could do a lot of damage, she suspected.

  Harvey lingered in the shadows of the beautiful greenery-lined path Sam had created for brides to use for descending into the amphitheater. Roses spilled over camellias and hawthorns. Floral scents perfumed the air. In his preferred post as guard, Harvey lifted his walking stick in acknowledgment as she limped past.

  Val was singing her dirge with unusual urgency. Amber picked up her pace. It was all downhill from here, but the rocky footing was tricky.

  Past the shrubbery, she could see the basin spread out below. The Lucys had trapped a shouting Cass in a circle on a rock platform above the vortex. They dodged her fists, swinging in rage.

  Amber had never seen the normally serene elder lash out with more than her sharp tongue. Aaron was using his greater size as a shield for whichever person Cass turned on. Cass wheeled to go after pregnant Mariah, who couldn’t move fast enough to escape. Aaron dashed past Cass to place himself between them.

  This could not be good.

  Fee ran down the path carrying bags of heavenly aromas. Small and new to Hillvale, she looked uncertain as she hesitated beside Amber. “I have no idea what she needs, so I brought everything I could think of.”

  Amber didn’t think Cass was in the mood for eating, but maybe the aromas would calm her. She took one of the bags and they headed down the rocky stairs together.

  “I’ll kill them,” Cass shouted as they approached. “They can’t do this in front of me! Just let me get my hands on the bastards.”

  “Who will you kill?” Samantha asked, frowning with worry. Cass was her great-aunt.

  Tullah gestured for Fee and Amber to set down the bags and join the circle. She held the crystal ball in one hand and her stick in the other. Amber tried not to cringe. The ball was fragile and hideously expensive.

  “I’ll kill the scheming lying bastards who did this to me,” Cass cried, swinging around to face Amber and Fee. “You!” she shouted, pointing at Amber. “Are you behind this too? Did you wish me dead?”

  Amber cringed at the accusation. Instinctively, she sought a hole in the rock to fit her stick, as the others were doing. The earth energy rocked her grip, but she hung on. “I don’t know who you are to wish you dead.”

  “Don’t play Miss Innocent with me, Fatty,” Cass cried.

  The cruel insult from the lips of someone she respected cut through Amber’s thick carapace. It squarely struck the shame lurking beneath layers of flesh. The old taunts she’d suffered as a teen returned—and then adult Amber’s fury rose up to beat back the old pain. She clenched her fingers.

  “The bastard told me he saw you.”

  An icy wind blew through Amber’s insides at the accusation—there was only one him she might have seen recently. This wasn’t Cass speaking. She’d attended enough of Cass’s séances to recognize that a spirit possessed her. The horror of who that spirit might be overrode shame and anger.

  Almost afraid to discover the spirit’s identity, Amber attempted a different tactic, addressing the spirit as if she recognized her. “Why would anyone wish you dead? Aren’t you worth more alive?”

  Cass returned to swinging in restless circles. Spirits didn’t always respond logically.

  If this one was as new as Amber feared, she was amazed she could respond at all.

  “Now,” Sam called softly. “Sticks ready, focus on the crystal ball. Val, do your thing.”

  The energy buzzed up the carved wood of the stick in Amber’s hand, harmonized with the crystal in the handle, vibrated with the funeral notes of the Death Goddess’s song.

  The perfume of roses mixed with the heavenly aromas wafting from Fiona’s food. A breeze whirled the dust and leaves inside the circle, grounding the circle in earthly sensation to call Cass’s human self. They chanted along with Val. Aaron circled with Cass, staying between her and any target. Tullah held the crystal ball high, letting it catch the sun and shoot rainbows through the clearing, calling the spirit to higher levels.

  Amber could see the struggle in Cass’s face. Usually unlined and serene, her skin seemed to fall in on itself, wrinkling with effort, hollowing her cheeks.

  The fight was hard to watch. Cass had years of experience in dealing with the spirit world. If Amber’s surmise was correct, this spirit was new and lost—but strong-willed and furious. The battle had to be painful. Along with the others, she raised her voice so the natural basin filled with the energy of their chant.

  Cass leaped for Tullah as if to strangle her. Aaron ducked. The light exploded inside the crystal ball. Rainbows shattered, but the glass held. Tullah staggered. Mariah grabbed her and held her up.

  Aaron caught Cass before she collapsed.

  Finally giving in to exhaustion, Josh fell asleep in the recliner in his suite, with the computer on his lap.

  He jarred awake at a racket at his door and the phone on the desk shrieking.

  “Mr. Gabriel, Mr. Gabriel, I’m here, tell them to let me in!” High-pitched and frantic, the voice could only belong to one person.


  Josh sighed and set aside his laptop. He didn’t know if he was ready for this. But Ernest had been Willa’s closest companion for years. The guy had every reason to be frantic.

  Josh opened the door to find the flashily-dressed assistant surrounded by security guards.

  The lodge’s business-suited manager was apologetic. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Gabriel. I don’t know how he escaped security. We take our guests’ privacy very seriously. Reporters have arrived, so we’re keeping everyone from this corridor.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Ernest said dramatically, flinging skinny arms clothed in a hideous blue-and-red checked jacket.

  Josh didn’t have time to dodge when Willa’s assistant flung those arms around his shoulders and began to weep. With a sigh, he patted the back of the atrocious jacket and acknowledged the manager and guards. “It’s all right. Ernest has been using my suite as an office. He probably has a key and lost it.”

  Or Willa had taken it away for some reason—to lend to someone else? Despite his tendency toward drama, Ernest was an extremely organized assistant.

  “Shall I provide another key?” the manager asked stiffly, eyeing a weeping Ernest with displeasure.

  “If you would, please. He’ll be useful in handling the reporters. Call and talk to him anytime you have a question.” Josh nudged the door closed and pried Ernest off him, dropping him in the nearest chair.

  Ernest continued to weep. A flamboyantly gay man of forty-some years with a receding hairline, invisible chin, and sloping shoulders, Ernest had no presence beyond his outrageous clothes. But his mind was a sticky web any spider would take pride in.

  With another sigh, Josh found a tissue box and dropped it on the table beside Willa’s assistant. “I’m sorry I couldn’t break the news personally. I left a message on your voice mail to call me.”

  Ernest nodded and blew his nose. “I know. I appreciate it. But Willa had told me to go back to LA with Sarah to straighten out some matters with her father. It was too late to do much when we arrived, and then I got the news this morning. . .” He started weeping again.

  A dozen questions danced through Josh’s mind. He started with the easiest. “Have you talked with the police yet?”

  “That’s who woke me up!” he said in indignation, grabbing another tissue. “They called and asked me where I was and demanded I give them my entire itinerary. Can they do that?”

  “Yes, they can, and you should tell them the truth if we want to find out who did this. I couldn’t tell them anything. Willa just told me she had to leave. She didn’t say who she was with. I thought she was with you.” Josh paced, trying to figure out who else among the party she might have traveled with, but as far as he was aware, everyone had their own cars except Ernest.

  “I thought she was staying with you! That’s what I told the police. She sent me back to LA to deal with her father. She didn’t need to go herself!”

  “She also sent Sarah, you said,” Josh pointed out. “Willa never goes anywhere without one of you. Went,” he corrected, still grappling with Willa’s absence. “She must have been planning on following you. Who was she with?”

  “She and Tessa were talking with Brad and the wedding planner when we left. We thought one of them would take her back to the lodge.” Ernest sent a peeved look at the ringing telephone. “I told the desk to forward all calls to the other room.”

  Josh ignored the phone. “Brad was still here this morning. Did you give the planner’s number to the cops? And Tessa’s? I don’t have them in my contact list.”

  Instead of answering, Ernest leaped from his seat to grab the shrieking phone. “Yes?” he answered in a drawl of disdain.

  Ernest could be anyone he wished—as long as no one saw him.

  After disposing of whoever was on the other end of the line, Ernest returned to the question at hand. “I gave them a list of everyone who accompanied us. If I may use the fold-out sofa in the office, I’ll stay here and handle the reporters You can deal with officialdom. The cops make me vaporish.”

  Everything made Ernest vaporish, except Willa. Josh had never understood their symbiotic relationship, but he appreciated her assistant’s organizational skills. “The reporters are all yours. You’ll have to know that Ginger lives up here. Once they realize that, they’ll be out of their minds in search of a scandal that doesn’t exist.”

  “Ginger?” Ernest lit up like a chandelier. “I adored Ginger! Can I meet her?”

  “You were too old to have watched Ginger and Jack. And the Ginger on the show is not the real person, whose name is Amber. If she calls, put her straight through to me. I’ve invited her here for dinner, so you can meet her then.”

  “Oops,” Ernest said, covering his mouth.

  Josh spun on his heel to glare at the man. “What?”

  “That was Amber on the phone. I told her you were too busy and asked for a message. Her reply was not sensible.”

  Josh closed his eyes and tried to imagine how Amber would respond, but he didn’t know her well enough these days. “What did she say?”

  “It was just mumbo-jumbo about spirits and crystal balls and talking to Willa. I thought she was selling something.” Ernest looked anxious. “That was Ginger?”

  “That was Amber. And if she thinks she’s talking to Willa, we need to listen. Call her back, now.”

  Eight

  Amber put down the receiver and tried to determine who she’d just talked to. It hadn’t been Josh. Had he brought in help to keep her away? That didn’t seem likely. But she didn’t know how to bypass the gatekeeper to reach him—just like the bad old days when Dell and Crystal had tried to keep them apart. They’d resorted to using sign language on the set and laundry carts in hotels.

  Amber glared at the black velvet concealing the crystal ball on its pedestal. Uncovered, the crystal swirled with angry colors, and Amber was afraid to touch it, but Tullah had insisted that the ball be kept away from Cass. After covering the crystal, all Amber had known to do with it was tuck it on a shelf in her back room.

  Her phone rang and the lodge’s number appeared. Preparing herself to speak with the officious jerk who’d taken her message, she was relieved to hear Josh instead.

  “Sorry about that,” he said almost breathlessly. “Ernest is Willa’s assistant. He didn’t recognize you. That won’t happen again. Are you coming up for dinner? The bathing suit won’t be delivered until tomorrow, but you’re beautiful in anything.”

  “You haven’t forgotten your acting skills,” she said dryly, trying not to imagine a busy Josh hunting for a bathing suit for her. What size had he chosen? She had more important things on her mind though, and she hesitated, looking for words that wouldn’t sound insane. “Maybe you should come here for dinner. I have something I want to show you, and I don’t know if it travels well. We’ve never dealt with anything quite like this before.”

  “Show me? Okay,” he sounded doubtful. “Reporters are roaming. Any suggestions for avoiding them?”

  She carried her cordless receiver to the big front window and studied the parking lot. “I’m not seeing a lot of cars here yet. It’s hard to tell a reporter from a tourist though. I could entertain you with suggestions about laundry vans, but no matter what you ride in, you’ll be visible as you enter the shop. You need a disguise.”

  “Hiding in laundry, just like old times!” He sounded pleased. “I can do laundry, but a delivery truck might make more sense. I’ll wear a uniform and hat and no one will notice.”

  “Except the driver, who will presumably be wearing your clothes, but that works. I’ll ask Dinah for take-out, and I’ll shut the shop after you arrive. We might need to call on Tullah or Mariah after dinner. I think that has to be up to you.”

  “And then it will be late, and we can have someone drive us back here and we can swim,” he said in satisfaction. “We can both use the workout after today. We can compare notes over dinner and plan our next steps for tomorrow.”

  Next step
s? But he’d hung up, leaving Amber to wonder what he meant.

  Although—if that was Willa’s spirit they’d captured in the crystal ball—planning their next steps could take some interesting paths. She shivered and returned to the front room rather than imagine an angry Willa whirling in her crystal.

  A flurry of customers—one of whom was probably a reporter—prevented her from closing early to go home and change. Apparently the wrong age to have watched Jack and Ginger, the reporter left without recognizing her. The actual customers purchased tarot cards and walking sticks and left chattering happily, unaware of the tragedy hanging over the town.

  Dinah was the chef at the restaurant next to the café. Amber called and asked if it was possible to have something delivered. She had never imposed on the cook before. Dinah simply accepted that it was of importance and agreed to send one of the staff across the street with muffulettas and gumbo. Creole cooking in California was such a rarity, that Dinah had a strong customer base only six months after she’d opened Delphines.

  On her own, Amber would just have had salad, but dinner with Josh was a special occasion deserving indulgence.

  She only kept a few plates and utensils in the shop for her lunches. They’d have to do. She wasn’t carrying that crystal ball up to her house. Refusing to fuss over her looks, she just brushed out her hair, donned a pale lipstick, set the table, and watched the delivery truck pull up outside.

  Dressed in a brown uniform, Josh strode in carrying a familiar brown box—one of her normal deliveries. He was wearing shorts and sandals, and she realized she’d not really seen much of him last night in the dark pool. He was tanned and muscular, and she even adored his masculine toes. Damn, she really didn’t need this.

  The delivery truck pulled off without him. She locked the door and put up the CLOSED sign, then gasped when Josh grabbed her by the waist and hauled her into his arms.