Blink of an Eye (Kendra Michaels #8) - Roy Johansen Page 0,69

the bed, was the guitar that she treasured. That Gibson Firebird instrument was the only expensive item in the room. Other than that it could have still been the room of that teenage girl in the cramped apartment who had sung her songs only for herself before the world had discovered the great Delilah Winter and turned her into a commodity.

She went to the nightstand and picked up a framed picture of Dee and her on a day when Jessie had taken her to the set of one of Jessie’s stunt movies. There was a second photo that had a shot of the two of them in Paris. Still another of them sitting cross-legged together on the corner of the stage while they listened to a John Williams rehearsal at the Hollywood Bowl. No photos at all of Dee’s mother. Jessie could feel the tears sting her eyes as she put the photo she’d picked up back down on the nightstand.

She turned and went over to the desk, looking down at several sheets of music scores tossed hurriedly, carelessly, over the carved surface as if Dee had just pushed away from the desk and left them. There was another pile of scores set neatly in a box on the corner. Which were the rejects?

She picked up one of the sheets on the desk. Scrawled at the top was a title. “Sun Song.”

She spent a lot of time in the garden.

Jessie smiled as she put down the sheet. Music written with boldness and passion as if Dee couldn’t wait to put down the words and music. Not that neat pile she’d stacked to consider at a later date.

“Sun Song.”

She suddenly stiffened as she gazed down at the title.

She spent a lot of time in the garden…

Then she was running out of the room and down the staircase. “Laura!”

She found her on the patio. “Laura, I was just thinking about something you said. Or maybe it was the way you said it. Anyway, it struck me and I had to ask you.”

“What are talking about?” She frowned. “Was it something you found in Dee’s room?”

“Yes. Not really. It was that new music. ‘Sun Song.’ You were talking about Dee spending time in the garden. I was asking you about strangers and you told me how careful you were about accepting new hires or construction.” Laura was nodding, and Jessie held up her hand. “But then you said something else and it didn’t occur to me it sounded odd until just now. You said, ‘And I didn’t do it this time, either.’ Why did you say it like that? Did someone ask you to accept a new hire or a different construction company during that period?”

Her eyes widened. “Not during that time, maybe a week or so before. Miguel Santiago, the gardener. He said he had a friend from the orphanage where he grew up who needed a job. I told him what I tell everyone—that I was sorry, but they’d have to go through the same checks and references as any other applicant. No exceptions. Miguel dropped it immediately.” She frowned. “You know he’s a good guy, Jessie. That was why I didn’t even think of mentioning it. It was a nonissue.”

“Maybe. I need to talk to him. Where can I find him?”

“The rose garden. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, thanks, Laura.” She was already out the French doors and striding down the paths toward the roses. She could see Santiago working in the garden near the fountain. He was a young man in his early twenties.

He looked up with a wary expression. “Hello, Jessie. Have you heard anything about Dee?”

She shook her head. “I just came to ask you about the man you asked Laura to consider hiring a few weeks ago. What do you know about him?”

“Not much.” He moistened his lips. “I didn’t remember him from the home, but that’s not unusual. There were so many of us there. He seemed like a nice guy. Some of the other guys at the orphanage had told him about my cushy job here with Dee and he thought he’d try his luck. He told me that if I helped him get the job, I wouldn’t regret it. He even offered to pay me half of his first week’s salary.”

“How generous. What was his name?”

“Jack Caseman.”

She wrote it down in her notebook. “How long was he here with you?”

“About half a day. He helped me with the weeding. We