Horvald was in his garden, hoeing. Ida Trask was there, too, kneeling beside the main tulip bed. Horvald Ledbetter was a retired security guard and one of the best neighbors I could hope for. He had the most colorful flower gardens in town and kept busy with them night and day, in memory of his late wife.
“How goes it?” I gave him a quick hug.
He leaned on his hoe and wiped his forehead while Ida went on with her thinning. “Could be a tad cooler for my taste,” he said. “But we’ll miss the sun come next month, once the rains hit. Is everything okay? You look beat.”
Ida leaned back, dusting her hands off on a towel. How she managed to keep her linen pantsuit clean while she mucked about in the dirt was a secret known only to her and her laundry basket, but somehow Ida managed to never appear in public with a single hair out of place. Her clothes were always wrinkle-free, clean, and neatly tucked in all the right places.
She beamed at me. “Emerald, sit down! We haven’t seen much of you the past few weeks.”
I flopped on the grass, thinking that if I took better care of my yard, it would still be a vibrant green field instead of a tangled maze of jungle. “What with getting ready for the Early Autumn Breeze Celebration, the past few weeks haven’t left me much time for anything else.”
“When’s the street dance? Tonight?” Horvald glanced hesitantly at Ida, then said, “I’ll be escorting Ida, but we lost track of the flier.”
Each year, at the end of the Early Autumn Breeze Celebration, the downtown Business Owners’ Association closed off two blocks, including one right in front of my shop, for a street dance. This year I was taking an active part; I’d keep the tearoom open, and Margie Wilcox, who owned the Corner Street Café, would stay open. Together we’d feed the masses descending onto Main Street. Several local bands provided music, and everybody in town was invited to “Come on down and dance the night away!” to the music of The Barry Boys and the Don Wan Kodo Drumming Group.
The Barry Boys were pretty good—playing covers of 70’s and 80’s hits. They were scheduled to play until 10:00 P.M., then Don Wan and his drummers would take over and the entire dance would turn into one huge, disorganized, Stomp-like rave for an hour or two. Everybody brought drums and bells, or pots and pans and had one heck of a good time jumping around and making noise. With a strictly enforced policy forbidding alcohol, there were rarely any problems.
“The dance is tomorrow night, from seven until midnight.”
Horvald frowned. “On a Monday?”
I shrugged. “Don Wan’s playing at a wedding tonight, so we extended the festival by one day.”
“Ah, I see.” Horvald nodded. Don Wan’s group was an institution at almost all of Chiqetaw’s festivals; complaints would run like melted butter if we excluded the drummers from the program. Not only were they great musicians, but Don’s wife made the best egg rolls in town, and she always fried up a huge platter of them for all the shop owners during the hours preceding the dance.
I yawned.
“Tired, dear?” Ida asked.
“Yeah, it wasn’t the best of mornings.” I filled them in on what had happened. Ida paled; ever since that business with her nephew, she wasn’t handling talk of murder—especially messy murder—very well. I glanced at Horvald, who gave me a subtle nod and asked Ida to bring him some lemonade and his medicine.
As she disappeared through his front door, he turned back to me. “I don’t like it, Emerald. Strange things have been going on in these parts for years. Ican tell you that we haven’t had a cougar or bear attack in awhile, not since a young bear cub got cornered by a nosy tourist and mama decided to intervene.”
Pausing, he shaded his eyes and squinted at me. “I remember hearing about the Klakatat Monster some years back . . . story went that it killed some farmer who’d gone up to the mountain to hunt for mushrooms one autumn. Hunters found him. Coroner said it was a bear attack, but there was just something odd about it.”
“I don’t believe that Scar was killed by an animal, and I really don’t think any monster did it. There’s a certain feel to the energy of a body when the person’s been murdered. Scar . . . he had that feel.”
“Hmm.” He gave me a keen look. “You know, Miner’s Lake is an odd place. Some wicked things went on there a ways back. A couple of brothers—prospectors, I think they were—named Luke and Jake Wiley, decided that the best way to get hitched was to kidnap their brides. They picked up a couple of young Indian girls, thinking the law would look the other way. Well, the law did look the other way, and the girls were found out near Turtle Rock, beaten to death. Their families showed up to avenge them, and . . . well . . . let’s just say that there wasn’t much left of Luke and Jake when they were done.”
He squatted and began weeding where Ida had left off. “A lot of abandoned mines up there in those mountains. A lot of bad blood and old bones. Sometimes skeletons from the past just don’t want to rest.” Horvald smiled then, and stood up, reaching out to push back a lock of hair that had fallen in my eyes. “Go home and take a nap, Emerald. You look like you need it.”
I yawned again. “Yeah, I think I will. Give Ida a hug for me, would you? Though she looks like she’s getting plenty of that already.” I snickered and, blushing, he shooed me toward the sidewalk.
“You just mind your p’s and q’s, young woman!” He chuckled and turned back to his lawn. “I’ll have a passel of bulbs for you in a couple days, so get those flower beds ready.”
“Aye, aye sir!” I saluted him, then wearily trudged back to my house and headed up to my room. Though I’d already showered, the memory of Scar’s decomposing body made me itch. I shuddered and stripped off my clothes, then padded into my bathroom, where I drew a tub-full of rose-scented bubbles. As I soaked in the soothing water, I replayed the afternoon in my mind.
Fact: Ghost-hunting is not necessarily the most pleasant way to spend the afternoon. Case in point: One dead biker found in the woods near Jimbo’s place. Even more nerve-racking fact: Said biker looked downright nasty. Add to that the knowledge that Jimbo was getting it on with my best friend, and I was ready for a steaming cup of raspberry tea. Damn it, why had my favorite magazine gone out of publication? I needed pretty mind-candy right now, andVictoria Magazine had always provided that for me.
My thoughts drifted back to the woods around Miner’s Lake. Though I wanted nothing more than to just stay out of the whole mess, a rumble in the pit of my stomach told me I didn’t stand a chance. In for a penny, in for a pound. Fretting, I stepped out of the tub and reached for my towel. The master bath was a luxury I’d grown to cherish. I yawned and meandered naked into my room.
“Hi gorgeous!”
Holy hell! I jumped about two feet before I realized that it was Joe sitting on my bed, not some renegade spirit come calling. “Nitwit! You scared the heck out of me!” Laughing, I held out my arms. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He grinned, leaping up to encircle me in a bear hug. I melted into his embrace as I pressed against his chest, basking in the warmth that filtered through my body, through my heart. Oh, I was a lucky woman. His shirt rubbed against my breasts, setting off a tingling I couldn’t ignore. I reached up, locking lips with him and held on for dear life as he enveloped me in a kiss that ran from the tip of my nose to the tip of my toes.
“Oh God, I missed you,” I said, diving back in for another kiss before I reluctantly broke away. Heaven forbid the kids might accidentally wander in and find me naked in his arms. They knew Joe and I were involved, and it was obvious that we were sleeping together, but they didn’t need the details spelled out in living color. I reached for my robe. Joe handed it to me, his fingers lingering on my own.