Текст книги "Crowned and Moldering"

Автор книги: Kate Carlisle

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Seven

I spent the rest of the day scraping wallpaper off the living room walls at Emily’s house. It was the best kind of job to do whenever I wanted to forget everything. Like the fact that Dismal Dain would not be spending the rest of his life in jail. I just couldn’t get Eric to take the evil man seriously.

While wallpaper removal was the perfect job to zone out on, it was also the worst task of all when it came to rehabbing a house. This was especially true of Victorian homes, which were built in an era when wallpaper was worshiped and often applied to walls in every room in the house—and occasionally on the ceilings, as well.

Back in the day, when it came time to redecorate a room, instead of scraping off the old wallpaper, an owner would simply cover over the existing wallpaper with a new pattern. It was just easier. So 150-some years later, when I’d come along to renovate a place, there might be as many as six layers of wallpaper to remove. But even if there was only one layer and it came off easily, the glue residue would often remain on the wall in sticky, streaky, gooey brown globs. That was when we’d start pulling out our hair in frustration.

There were a number of different methods for removing wallpaper. Some people believed in good old vinegar and water. Some might add a portion of fabric softener to the mix. Some swore by scrapers or sponges. Any or all of these might work for a small job.

Douglas had grown up working construction jobs with his father, and his preferred method of removal was to use an industrial-strength garden sprayer that he filled with equal parts hot water and fabric softener. He’d spray a wide section of the wall with the liquid, wait about five minutes, and then start scraping. Often a sheet would peel off in one large swath. Once the wall was dry, he would go back and scrape off the glue.

The trick with spraying all that water was to not allow the liquid to sit too long before removing the wallpaper. Victorian walls were constructed of lath and plaster, and if that much moisture seeped into the wall and sat there for too long, it would damage the plaster.

For big jobs, I’d found the steamer method worked best. My father had invested in a heavy steamer that rolled and swiveled around on casters and had a large stainless-steel plate that was lightweight and easy to use, even for an eight-year-old. The heating element and the hot water were contained inside a fully insulated tank, so Dad never had to worry that I might accidentally burn myself.

One secret I’d learned early on was to start steaming at the bottom of the wall and work my way up. This was because as you steamed the wallpaper, water would drip down the walls and onto the floor. If you started at the top, you’d wind up kneeling in mushy, gluey paper when you reached the bottom of the wall. It also helped to stuff old towels along the floor edges.

Once you were finished, it was smart to apply a primer before painting the wall; even if you couldn’t see it, there always seemed to be some residual glue left on the wall, and the primer helped conceal it.

Because of the mind-numbing nature of wallpaper removal, my guys and I always took turns so that no one got stuck doing the entire job him – or herself. We were each assigned a separate room on a separate day, and that way we shared the pain. I was all about equal opportunity on every level.

When Emily arrived home at six o’clock, I was still working. The guys had all gone home, but I was there, all alone, completely wrapped up in the job.

“Shannon?”

“What?” I flinched a little, which told me how zoned out I’d been. And since zoning out had been my purpose all along, I figured I’d succeeded. “Hey, Emily.”

“You’re still working?”

I stared at the wall and the progress I’d made, then back at her. “I guess I am. But I’ll clean up and get out of your way.” I climbed down the ladder, picking curly pieces of wallpaper slivers off my shirt and tossing them into the large trash bag nearby.

She gazed around the room. “You’ve gotten so much done.”

“Yeah, I just decided to go for it.”

With a smile, she said, “You look tired.”

“What every girl wants to hear,” I said, and laughed. “But, yeah, I really am tired. And annoyed. Mostly annoyed.”

She set her purse and a small grocery bag that held a pretty bouquet of flowers on the utility table we’d set up near the foyer archway. “Who or what has annoyed you?”

I waved the question away. “You don’t know him and it’s not worth talking about.”

“Of course it is. Come and have a glass of wine with me.”

I hesitated, then said, “Well, I can hardly refuse an offer of wine.”

She walked into the butler’s pantry. “Oh, the boys pulled out the sink.”

I unplugged the steamer and began to clean up the crimped and twisted bits of old wallpaper. “You can still use the main one, right?”

“Oh yes. It’s not a problem. They’re just moving ahead so quickly.”

“I wish it was quicker, for your sake.”

Emily Rose, despite being ten years older than me, was one of my dearest friends and a member of my inner circle. There were five of us who met regularly to console each other and laugh and plan and scheme. Emily had moved to town from Scotland years ago with her fisherman boyfriend, who was later lost in a tragic accident at sea.

Her new tea shop, along with many of her new friends in town, had sustained her through the hardest days. Emily had lived in the apartment over the shop until recently, when, out of the blue, she decided to buy this old house. Now I couldn’t wait to complete the job and have her finally feel settled.

I joined her in the big unfinished kitchen as she pulled a bottle of chardonnay from an old, temporary refrigerator and poured two glasses. We sat at the small café table she’d moved into the kitchen.

She handed me a glass. “Now take a sip or two and then tell me why you’re annoyed.”

I must’ve been ready to talk, because once I started, I couldn’t seem to stop. I told her all about finding Lily’s bones and how the discovery affected Sean. I gave her a brief history of my high school years and how kind Lily had been to me. I told her—ranted, really—about Dismal Dain and his historically imbecilic advice to students. I gave a quickie recap of my Career Day successes and my delight in having been chosen to construct the new high school parking lot. By my second glass of wine, I was compelled to mention Whitney’s idiocy, on general principle. By that point Emily was laughing, and I suppose I was, too. Even though there was very little that was funny about the events of the past few days.

My light mood faded quickly and I sighed. “It was so frustrating for Sean to realize that poor Lily never left town. She was lying dead and alone in the lighthouse mansion all this time. It’s sad and creepy.”

“I’m so sorry for Sean,” Emily said.

“Me, too. He’s spent so many years searching for his sister and waiting for her to return. He was simply shattered by the news.”

Emily took a sip of wine, then asked in a gentle tone, “But don’t you think, Shannon, in a way, it must be a relief for him to finally know the truth?”

It was hard to admit she was right. “I suppose so. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop bugging Eric to find the killer.”

“Is it possible that she wasn’t murdered?” she asked cautiously. “Perhaps it was an accident.”

“It’s conceivable, but how did she get inside the dumbwaiter?”

Emily thought for a moment. “Was she hiding from someone?”

“Maybe. But where did her clothes disappear to? And what about that awful mattress? Was she living there? Escaping from her parents for a while? Was she with someone?”

“There are too many questions,” Emily admitted.

“And not enough answers, as usual.”

“At least Eric is asking your advice this time. That must feel good.”

“It does,” I said, feeling a glow that probably had more to do with the wine than with Eric’s approval. “Although it’s sad that he wouldn’t arrest Dismal Dain when I suggested it. So I guess that means he won’t be hiring me as an expert consultant anytime soon.”

Emily chuckled. “Dismal Dain sounds like a dreadful person.”

“He is that.”

Emily got up and poured glasses of water for us both, and we changed the subject to other things, namely Mrs. Rawley’s ghost, who was relatively quiet these days.

“Unless Augustus stops by,” Emily said. “Then she starts swinging on the chandeliers.”

Augustus Peratti, or Gus, as I called him, since I’d known him forever, owned the best auto shop in town. He was a gorgeous, sexy Italian who’d been attracting women like bees to honey since the first grade. A few weeks ago, Gus had stopped by to see Emily, and Mrs. Rawley’s ghost went crazy. The chandelier began to swing and lights flashed on and off all over the house. Gus even lost consciousness for a few seconds, but quickly recovered. Several of us witnessed it with our own eyes and had no explanation for the phenomenon until Mrs. Rawley’s diary was recovered shortly afterward. In it, she confessed that she had been in love with Gus’s great-grandfather all those years ago, but her parents had forbidden her to marry him. She must’ve recognized him in Gus, because she went a little crazy when Gus walked into the house. Since then, she’d been as calm as could be.

The really odd aspect of the story was that Gus was supposed to bring Emily’s car to her tea shop that day, not to Emily’s new house. But somehow he’d been compelled to show up at the new place instead. Had the ghost actually conveyed that message to him clairvoyantly? We would never know.

“So the chandeliers still swing when he comes here?” I chuckled. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Gus has had that effect on women his whole life.”

Emily laughed and slapped my arm. “Very funny. Seriously, though, I think it’s so nice of Augustus to come by to visit Mrs. Rawley.”

“Are you sure he’s not coming by to visit you?”

“Oh no,” she protested. “He’s just being nice, and I couldn’t be happier. He really does seem to have a calming effect on her.”

“Calming, really? The woman is making the chandeliers swing.”

She bit back a smile. “To tell the truth, they only sway a bit.”

*   *   *

I wasn’t ready to drive home yet, so I walked around the house with Emily while she pointed out other areas she’d like to have fixed whenever I had the time to fit her into my schedule. We made a plan to get together with the girls sometime in the next week, and an hour later, I was ready to drive the eight long blocks to my home.

As I carefully pulled the truck into the driveway, I was pleased to see Mac standing there.

“Are you on your way out?” I asked after climbing out of the truck.

“No, I just got home and saw your headlights coming, so I thought I’d wait for you.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and it felt so warm and so right, I almost froze in fear. I couldn’t get attached to Mac—I just couldn’t. The man was a bachelor millionaire who dated supermodels and celebrities. But could I fling his arm off my shoulder? No. Actually, I snuggled even closer to him as we walked through the gate into the backyard. My only excuse was that the wind had picked up and it was too darn cold to bear it alone.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

“Sure,” I said casually, then reconsidered. “Well actually, it’s been weird, with the mansion closed until further notice and Sean dealing with his sister’s death and Eric showing up at school to talk to Lily’s horrible high school counselor.”

“Whoa,” he said. “That’s a lot of stuff going on. And I want to hear every last detail, but I can tell you’ve had a long day. Would you like to have dinner sometime this weekend?”

“I’d love to,” I said, shoving all thoughts of blond supermodels to the far regions of my brain.

“Good.” He walked me to my kitchen door and waited until I unlocked it, then kissed me on the cheek. “Sweet dreams, Irish.”

*   *   *

First thing Friday morning, Ms. Barney called again. “The head engineer from the solar company wants to meet you this afternoon at two o’clock. Are you available?”

“I’ll be there. Your office?”

“Let’s meet out at the parking lot. That way you don’t have to walk back and forth across campus.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”

“Just one more thing, Shannon.” She hesitated, then said, “It’s about one of the other bidders for the job.”

I didn’t like the tone of her voice. “Is there a problem?”

“Sort of. When I told him we were going to go with your company, he didn’t take the news well. He told me I’d be sorry, and to watch out for you because you liked to cut corners.”

“What?” I stared at the phone. “Are you kidding? I’ve never cut corners in my life.”

“I know that, dear, and I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. He also said . . . Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh yes, it does. What else did he say?”

She hesitated, then added, “He said you were lazy and probably wouldn’t finish the job.”

“Oh my God.” My stomach began to churn, and I had a feeling I knew where all of this was coming from.

“I know it was just sour grapes,” Ms. Barney said, “because you’re the best worker I’ve ever dealt with. I just wanted to warn you that you seem to have an enemy out there.”

“Can you tell me who it is?” But I already knew. “Never mind. It was Cliff Hogarth, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, surprised that I would know. “He was very unpleasant. I got the feeling from the way he talked that you two had had some other run-ins.”

I paced back and forth across the kitchen, unable to sit still after hearing Ms. Barney’s revelation. “We have, I’m sorry to say. He’s tried to poach some of my crew members and bad-mouthed me to a few of my clients.”

She considered my words for a moment. “Didn’t you go to school with him?”

“He was two years older than me, but he asked me out a few times. I said no.”

She groaned. “Oh, Shannon. This can’t be about that.”

“I’m afraid it might be.”

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry.” She let loose a heavy sigh. “I never thought I’d ever have to say this to anyone, but please watch your back.”

“I will. Thanks, Ms. Barney.”

I hung up feeling drained. It was barely eight o’clock in the morning and I had a full day of work ahead of me, but I wanted to crawl back into bed and hide from the world.

“No,” I said out loud, causing Robbie to bark in response. “Sorry, buddy.” I picked him up and hugged him tightly, then set him back down. After gulping down the rest of my coffee, I carried the mug and my empty cereal bowl to the sink.

No, I refused to crawl back to bed. Instead I wanted to go find Cliff Hogarth and smack him upside the head. I wouldn’t mind if Eric threw him in jail, either. What a conniving creep.

Hmm. I wondered if I could file a complaint of some kind. What Cliff had said and done crossed the line into slander, and I wondered if I should just sue him. But maybe the best thing to do was track him down, get in his face, and let him know I wasn’t going to put up with his nonsense anymore.

Once I’d straightened up the kitchen, I sat down and called Wade, then conferenced in Carla to let my two foremen know that I’d be meeting the engineer that afternoon to discuss the new job. I asked Wade to join me at the school for the meeting, since he had experience laying down blacktop.

“I’ll be there,” Wade said.

“You want me to work any of it?” Carla asked.

“Let me see what their schedule is first,” I said. “I think I’ll start the job and then maybe pass it on to you, Carla. I want all of us to get some experience with these canopies they’re setting up, because as soon as companies around town see what’s going on, there’s going to be more and more demand for alternative-energy construction. We might as well get all the experience we can.”

“I agree,” Wade said. “We’ve done rooftop gardens and greenhouses, and we did the windmill farm out by the Zen center.”

“Hey,” Carla said, laughing. “You might have to change the name of the company to Green Hammer.”

“I like that,” I said, feeling better. But my mood didn’t last long, as I related Ms. Barney’s warning about Cliff Hogarth and his slurs against me and the company. “Can you guys keep your eyes and ears open in case you hear anything else?”

“He’s a joke,” Wade said derisively.

“A dangerous joke,” Carla amended.

“I can’t afford to take it as a joke,” I admitted. “And, for some reason, the fact that he said what he said to Ms. Barney, my old high school principal”—I rubbed my arms—“that’s more disturbing than anything else.”

We spoke for another few minutes, and I promised I’d call Carla later to tell her how the meeting with the engineer went.

I wished my father was in town, but he was working at my uncle Pete’s winery out on Highway 128. They were building an addition onto the modern barn that housed the massive, stainless-steel, temperature-controlled tanks. This was where the wine sat and fermented before it was transferred to oak barrels.

Uncle Pete’s winery had grown more popular in recent years, as had all of the wineries in the Anderson Valley. He’d purchased another ten acres of vineyards a few months ago and now he needed extra space to add a few more tanks.

I had promised to drive out there some weekend and help with the construction. Uncle Pete had agreed to make homemade pasta while I was there. It sounded like a pretty good trade. And it wasn’t exactly a hardship to drive the distance, since the Anderson Valley was barely ten miles east of Lighthouse Cove.

When Dad wasn’t helping Uncle Pete or traveling to some fishing hole somewhere, he parked his RV in my driveway, and I got to see him anytime I wanted to. I could’ve used some commonsense advice from him right about now, because I was feeling pretty low. Thanks to that slimy snake Cliff Hogarth.

I supposed I could call him, but Dad rarely had his cell phone turned on. No, I would have to go out there and see him in person if I wanted to talk.

Tiger curled herself around my ankle and I smiled, amazed at how well my animals could sense my moods. “I’ll snap out of it,” I said. “Don’t worry about me.”

Despite my words, Robbie perched himself in front of my feet and whined until I picked him up and let him comfort me.

After a few minutes of quiet, I whispered, “No, I don’t like that guy either. But don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

Just as soon as I sued Hogarth for defamation. Or maybe I’d just go ahead with my original plan and smack him upside the head, preferably with a two-by-four.

*   *   *

That afternoon, I met with Josh Martin, the engineer from SolarLight, the company providing the solar canopies for the school parking lot. He had scruffy hair and a nice smile and wore horn-rimmed bifocals. I would describe him as a good-looking nerd. He wore a navy sports coat with a wild red Jerry Garcia tie I recognized from one that Lizzie bought Hal a few years ago. I liked Josh immediately, maybe because of the tie.

Ms. Barney was there, too, and one of the school board members, Bob Heath. Wade arrived a few minutes after me, and I was glad to have someone else on my side in case I missed anything.

Josh handed each of us a thick, dark blue folder that contained several of the company’s glossy brochures as well as pages of specs and a precise timeline for the work to be completed. The brochures contained numerous photographs of the architecturally appealing canopies, showing a streamlined design that consisted of a long V-shaped panel held in place by thick, fifteen-foot-tall steel posts that would cover two rows of twelve cars each, for a total of twenty-four cars. The school had ordered three of the canopies, so the total number of cars that would be able to park in the lot would be seventy-two.

“The theory behind our product is a simple one,” Josh explained. “Asphalt and concrete parking lots and pavements cover much of our country, especially in the cities. These surfaces retain heat and create what scientists call the urban heat-island effect. Our canopies offer an easy solution to the problem by providing shade to cool the ground surface and the individual cars parked there.”

“That’s pretty simple logic,” Bob said. I could tell that despite the board’s having approved the expenditure, he was hoping to be convinced further.

“It might sound like mere convenience to provide shade for your students’ cars,” Josh continued, “but consider this: the Department of Energy has determined that parking in the shade actually has a positive effect on the environment. That’s because when a student gets in his car at the end of the school day, he won’t have to switch on the air conditioner to cool off, thus increasing fuel efficiency for the life of the car.”

“Never thought of that,” Bob muttered.

“Additionally, the design includes a gutter system that collects rainwater and directs it to a ten-thousand-gallon tank that will be concealed beneath the parking lot surface. That water can be used to irrigate the fields and landscaping across the campus, as well as being available for various nonpotable uses within the buildings, thus reducing your water and power bill.”

“What kind of nonpotable uses?” Bill asked.

Josh nodded. “Good question. Mainly things like flushing toilets, hosing down the floors of the cafeteria or the locker rooms, laundering gym towels—that sort of thing. Part of our service includes the installation of pipes that run from the tank to wherever you have a use for the water.”

“That’s brilliant,” Ms. Barney said, clearly anxious to sway Bob Heath.

“I like to think so,” Josh said. “Now the panels themselves generate a lot of energy, of course. We’ve estimated that your canopies will eventually generate enough power to cover forty-five percent of the school’s needs for an average school year.”

“Forty-five percent is pretty darn good,” Bob mused. “But this stuff sure costs a lot to install.”

“The costs are going down every year, but, yes, that is the major sticking point. But here’s the thing: we estimate that with the power and water you save, you’ll have made your initial investment back within four years. We’ve already contacted your local water and power company to get your new system hooked up to its grid. All things being equal, you could start saving money on your bill immediately. But realistically, it’ll take time. A few months, usually. If you have any problems, you’ll contact us.”

Bob shrugged. “Sounds fair.”

“In addition to all that, the panels will also serve as a power source for any hybrid or electric cars parked in the lot. I counted eight hybrids in the lot today, and within the next five years, that number is expected to triple. So this will provide your students with a welcome perk.” Josh paused, then managed to smile and make eye contact with each of us before adding, “And besides all that good stuff, let’s face it: these canopies look really cool.”

“They sure do,” Bob muttered.

We all chuckled and nodded in agreement. Because they really did.

Once Bob and Ms. Barney left, Josh and Wade and I had a long discussion about the construction process. First we would regrade and level the surrounding area to provide enough space to park seventy-two cars, plus an entry wide enough to allow cars to enter and exit at the same time. We would excavate deeply enough to make space for the ten-thousand-gallon water tank that the company would provide. We would install pipes leading from the gutters to the tank and from the tank to specific hoses for irrigation, and other pipes leading to the main building, for nonpotable uses.

We would set the thick steel posts in six feet of concrete and embed them into the blacktop.

And while my guys and I would do most of the work, it would all be supervised by several members of the SolarLight team. I was very happy to hear that they’d be around, because this would be my first experience installing solar canopies and I wanted to make sure it was done right.

“Man, that was interesting,” Wade said as we walked back to our cars. “And this job is going to be a lot more complicated than I thought.”

“I got an idea of the scope of the job from the bidding forms,” I said. “But you’re right. It’s going to be a lot of work. We can handle it, though. I’m excited to get started.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Me, too.”

“Hello, Shannon.”

I glanced in the direction of the voice. “Hey, Mr. Jones.”

He looked exhausted, and I suddenly pictured him rushing out of the building the other day to go home to the police.

“How are you holding up?” I asked. “How’s Denise?”

“She’s been a real trooper, even though she cried for a while. She and Lily were such good friends.” He rubbed his neck, looking discomfited. “I was pretty flipped out, though. I can’t tell you how weird it is to see a couple of cops sitting in your living room, interviewing your wife.”

“I can imagine.” Except for the wife part, I could totally relate to his dilemma, but I didn’t mention that. “Chief Jensen is a great guy, though. He’ll get to the bottom of things. And I’ll bet Denise was a big help to him. She told him about Mr. Dain, right?”

“Yes,” he said, looking a little dazed by my fast talking. “She told him that Darren—er, Mr. Dain—was Lily’s advisor. I hope he was able to help the police.”

“I hope so, too.” Although I doubted Dismal would have anything worthwhile to say.

Mr. Jones seemed to realize he was in a mood and physically shrugged it off, and flashed me a cheery smile. “So, what brings you back to school again?”

“We’re rebuilding the senior parking lot,” I said. “By the way, have you met Wade Chambers? He’s my foreman, so you’ll probably see him around here a lot.”

The two men greeted each other and shook hands.

“Hi, Brad.”

The three of us turned to see Whitney approaching, and my spirits took a nosedive. Instead of greeting me, she looked from Wade to Mr. Jones and gave me a look of puzzlement. She was so transparent, I knew she was trying to figure out how I rated the company of two such good-looking men.

“Hello, Whitney,” Mr. Jones said, and gave me and Wade a quick, forced smile. “Nice meeting you, Wade. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go run an errand. See you all later.” And he was gone.

“He didn’t have to leave,” Whitney said, pouting as she watched Mr. Jones run to his car.

Wade grabbed my arm. “We’ve got to go, too. Remember, Shannon? See you around, Whitney.”

I almost laughed. My big tough foreman looked scared to death. I didn’t blame him. Whitney was in predator mode.

“Shannon, wait,” Whitney said.

I stopped and turned around.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” she said.

I stared at her. “Are you talking to me?”

“Of course, silly,” she said, giggling.

Giggling? Had hell frozen over? Whitney didn’t giggle. Not around me. I was more suspicious than ever, and I gripped Wade’s arm like a vise. No way was he leaving me here to face her alone.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve hired a contractor to redo my powder room,” she said blithely. “And I’d like you to deliver the blueprints of the house to him.”

“But . . .” Nobody else had ever worked on Tommy’s house but me. Ever. My first reaction was confusion. “I always do the work on your house.”

“I know, but just this once I’d like to make a change. You don’t mind sharing with someone new, do you?”

I was so furious, I could barely speak, but I managed to squeak out a word. “Who?”

She smiled brightly. “Cliff Hogarth.”