Case of the Highland House Haunting Page 4

  “About when you’ll drop something coming in the door?” the girl mischievously asked. She winked. “I have next Friday, around noon. Katherine has the following Monday.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks a lot. Could you point out where I might find Jillian? Is she in her office?”

  The girl, Sydney, pointed upstairs, “No, she’s in the café. Umm, I’ll watch your dogs if you want to go up there.”

  Familiar with Jillian’s staff watching the corgis whenever I showed up, and since health regulations forbid any type of animals from entering a commercial kitchen, I wordlessly passed the leashes over. The girl cooed at the dogs before turning on her heel and walking further into the heart of the store. Neither dog, I should point out, bothered to look back at me. What that was supposed to mean, I’d rather not know.

  “Zachary!” Jillian exclaimed, as she looked up from a table covered with paperwork. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  I thought back to the girls downstairs and shrugged, “Apparently not.”

  “Oh, don’t let those two intimidate you,” Jillian teased. “They know you’re here because of me, and they’re just trying to get your goat.”

  “Hey, I’m not afraid of a couple of teeny-boppers,” I clarified.

  “They told you about the betting pool, didn’t they?”

  I sighed, “Apparently, I’m not as mysterious as I used to be.”

  “Only if you don’t spill the drinks this coming Friday or the following Monday. Wait. Was it today? Did you spill the drinks today? Hmm, they still look pretty full.”

  “That’s because I didn’t spill them. You sound as though you have today’s date covered.”

  Jillian smiled sheepishly at me.

  “Oh, lord. You do, don’t you?”

  “I may have purchased a few of the open days,” Jillian confessed. Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “So, Zachary, you do realize tonight is movie night, don’t you?”

  I nodded, “I do. It’s my turn to pick the movie, isn’t it?”

  “Nice try,” Jillian laughed. “After subjecting me to over two hours of killer cyborgs trying to mutilate one another, I think it’s safe to say I get to choose next.”

  My head tilted as I stared at my girlfriend.

  “Nuh-uh. The last movie we watched was a chick flick. Something about a bunch of ladies who liked to get drunk every single night and try to relive their youth. It’s my turn, woman.”

  Jillian stared at me for a few moments.

  “It was cyborgs,” she insisted.

  “Drunk chicks,” I returned.

  After a few moments of staring at one another, we both held up a clenched hand. I’m not sure what the point of this was supposed to be. I never win these things.

  “One… two… three. Hah! Scissors cuts paper! I win, Zachary!”

  Why do I even bother trying? To date, we’ve had about a dozen of these rock-paper-scissor sessions, and do you want to know how many of them I’ve won? Not a damn one. After this many attempts, the odds should be in my favor, but clearly Jillian is employing some trick where she manages to figure out what I’m gonna do before I can even do it.

  Oh, well. Sappy romance it is. I was about ready to ask Jillian what was on the docket for tonight when I heard a sharp, exasperated bark. Curious, I leaned back in my chair and looked down the stairs. It wasn’t a direct line to the cashier station, where I knew Sydney had the dogs, but it was close. I was just in time to see a streak of tri-colored fur zip by. Thankfully, Sherlock wasn’t heading for the door, and oddly enough, he wasn’t headed up here, either, but further into the store.

  “Was that Sherlock?” Jillian asked. “Is he okay?”

  “I think so. I just saw him go running by, with Sydney in hot pursuit. I know that bark. He wants something, and he’s frustrated his intentions aren’t clear enough for us stupid bipeds to figure out.”

  Jillian giggled, “Stupid bipeds, huh?”

  “Got a better way to describe it?” I grinned. “I’ll see what he’s up to. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry back. I can’t wait to tell you about the movie I’ve selected for tonight. And no, it’s not a romance movie. It’s a classic French film.”

  “But, I don’t speak French!”

  “Oh, don’t worry. There are subtitles.”

  “Swell. You’re trying to get even with me. I’m not sure why.”

  Jillian laughed, “That cyborg lady had knives for hands! And she was trying to hurt that poor little girl! I’ll probably have nightmares for months.”

  “Oh, please,” I scoffed. “That ‘little girl’ kicked the ever lovin’ snot out of the cyborg. She wasn’t hurt in the slightest. Besides, she was a cyborg, too!”

  “However you explain it, you’ll have to admit it was a strange movie. The girl’s eyes bothered me. Too big.”

  “Done on purpose,” I laughed. “We’ve been through this. It’s to honor the story’s Japanese manga background.”

  “You’ll love this one,” Jillian assured me. “I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” I called back to her, as I headed down the stairs. “Sherlock? Watson? Where are you two?”

  “They keep slipping away from me!” Sydney told me, in an exasperated tone. I watched her hurry by for a second time. “I’m not sure what’s going on. I never knew Sherlock was so good at sneaking away. And I swear, he’s showing Watson how to do it.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” I laughed. “Okay, you go that way, and I’ll go this way. He’s gotta be here somewhere.”

  The high school teen moved off, walking parallel to the store front. I headed through tall cases of books, intent on making as little noise as possible. Cookbook Nook had linoleum floors. I should easily be able to hear the clicking of doggie toe nails, provided they were still moving around. The problem was, it was relatively quiet in the store, and I didn’t hear any movement whatsoever.

  “Come on guys,” I quietly murmured. “Give me a sign. Jingle a collar, let out a woof, anything!”

  “I found them, Mr. Anderson,” Sydney called, from the other side of the store. “They’re over by the ‘Specialty Cakes’ section.”

  “Specialty cakes?” I softly repeated.

  Were there really that many books about specialty cakes that Jillian had to create its own section? I arrived a few moments later to find Sydney holding both leashes and trying to give Sherlock a stern scolding. Both corgis were sitting on their rumps and were paying the teenage girl absolutely no mind. They seemed to be looking at the picture on the wall next to the display. All I could see was a couple of children, walking hand-in-hand, down a path through a thick forest. A small cottage was nearby, and there was a wisp of smoke wafting up from the chimney. Whatever. I walked up in time to see Sherlock look my way and, if possible, give me a sheepish grin.

  “What are you doing, pal?” I asked, as I squatted down next to the dogs. I draped an arm around each of them and gave them a good scratching. “Since when is it like you two to go running off like that?”

  I started walking, intent on leading them away from the display of custom cake decorating books when I felt both leashes become taut. I gave them a gentle tug, to indicate we were headed in a different direction, when I heard Sherlock snort and shake his collar. A few moments later, both were walking next to me.

  “You want me to take up cake decorating?” I asked the dogs, as we headed toward the back of the building. This was after I had noticed Jillian had finally come down the stairs and was headed for her office. “I don’t think I’d be any good at it.”

  Jillian appeared a few moments later. Her purse had been slung over her shoulder and she had her keys in her hand.

  “Ready for lunch?”

  Both dogs perked up at this.

  “She’s asking me, not you two,” I told the dogs.

  It didn’t matter. The dogs knew we were about to go for a ride, and were thrilled they were included. Oh, I should mention something before you start
wondering about PV’s restaurants. Many of the businesses situated along Main Street had open air terraces. Most, if not all, of the restaurants allowed the dogs to come onto the terrace and sit with their owners while they had a bite to eat. The stickler was, the dogs – obviously – were not allowed into the actual restaurant. So, with that being said, the four of us drove to one of my favorite places to eat, Casa de Joe’s. It might not sound like an authentic Mexican restaurant, but let me assure you, it was, hands down, the best damn place to cure a burrito craving within a 100 mile radius. Mexican food has to be one of my favorite types of food, and I can say that I’ve frequented a lot of restaurants, especially in the Phoenix, Arizona, area. However, not even the places in Arizona, serving authentic Mexican food, could hold their own against Casa de Joe’s. Trust me, it was that good.

  “I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to purchase Highland House,” Jillian sullenly began, after the waitress had taken our orders and placed a bowl of chips in front of us. “I don’t know, Zachary. I’m starting to think the place is cursed after all.”

  I was silent as I munched on a few chips. I knew this was currently a delicate situation for her, especially since someone had died in that house, while working for her. You’d have to understand my girlfriend. She had to be the most caring, sweetest person I have ever encountered. This was someone who would actually catch and release bugs outside before she’d ever kill one. So, in this situation, I knew that the accident, even though it was an accident, weighed heavily on her mind. Now, it would seem, she was looking for my take on the situation and I was more than happy to give it.

  “Look, it was just an accident,” I began. “These sorts of things can and do happen. I’m not saying it’s a good thing, hell no. But, don’t let it dissuade you from doing what you want. Highland House is going to look fan-freakin’-tastic after it’s been restored. It’ll be the talk of the town, trust me.”

  Jillian laid a hand over mine.

  “Thank you. I needed to hear that. That house has already seen someone else die in it. I just don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.”

  “You’re referring to whats-her-face, Dame Highland, right? You said she was killed in her own house? Do you know how it happened?”

  Jillian shrugged, “Not really. I only know that the previous owner lived in that house up until her death and it has sat vacant ever since.”

  “And when was that?” I wanted to know.

  “Umm, I’m not sure. I think it was in the ‘50s.”

  “1947,” a young female voice corrected.

  We both looked up. Our waitress, a cute brunette with a strong ‘girl-next-door’ vibe about her, who I guessed was in her early twenties, was standing before us. This particular girl had waited on the two of us numerous times in the past and was known to be a very efficient worker. Considering how we’ve already placed our orders, and since both of us did not need a refill on our drinks, this girl must have overheard our conversation and stopped to offer an opinion.

  “You’re guessing?” I asked.

  The girl – Sammi by her name tag – shook her head.

  “You’re talking about what happened at Highland House, right? About when Dame Highland was murdered? It was 1947. I did a research paper on it last year, for school. Did I hear that right? Did you really buy that house?”

  Jillian nodded, “I did. Let’s keep that between ourselves, okay?”

  The girl nodded enthusiastically.

  “You can count on me, Ms. Cooper.”

  Our waitress was given a school project and decided to focus her paper on Jillian’s newest acquisition? You couldn’t ask for better timing than that. Hopefully she’d be able to shed some light on what happened.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” I eagerly asked. “What can you tell us about it?”

  “Well, like I said earlier, Dame Highland was killed in 1947,” Sammi began. “There were two suspects, both of whom were vagrants living in the area. The only thing that was listed in the police report was that they figured these two bums learned of Dame Highland’s extensive jewelry collection, and wanted it for themselves. Whether or not they got it, no one knows, but the police figured they didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?” I asked. “Get the jewels? How would they know?”

  “Nothing ever turned up,” Sammi informed me. She noticed the dwindling number of chips in our bowl and pointed at it. “Would you like some more chips?”

  “I believe we would. Wait. Is there something I don’t know? Have you guys started charging for extra chips?”

  Sammi grinned, “Nope. Unless you need a refill on your salsa, that is. Be right back.”

  I looked at the half-full bowl of salsa and grunted.

  “I don’t know if she’s serious or not.”

  Sammi was back in less than 30 seconds.

  “Here you go. Now, where were we?”

  “You mentioned the jewelry never turned up,” I reminded our waitress. “So, the logical assumption is that they were unable to get the location out of her.”

  Sammi nodded, “Right. That’s what I think happened, too.”

  “So, they killed her because she wouldn’t tell those two men where her jewelry was,” Jillian repeated. She frowned a few moments later. “I hope they were caught.”

  Sammi shook her head, “They weren’t, I’m sorry to say. They got away, only based on what I read in the police report, they didn’t make it too far. They were discovered a week later in Medford.”

  “Discovered, and not apprehended?” I asked, confused.

  Sammi nodded, “Yes. They were both dead. According to the Medford police report that I managed to get a copy of, it was decided that each man turned on the other.”

  “Doesn’t that suggest that they found at least a few pieces of jewelry?” I asked. “If they turned on each other, then wouldn’t that mean each person wanted what the other had?”

  “Not necessarily,” Jillian argued. “Maybe they were scared. Maybe one of them suggested they turned themselves in, and the other didn’t want to?”

  I had to concede the point.

  “Okay, sure. That’s one way to look at it. Either way, there was a lady who had way too much jewelry.”

  Noticing the table had had fallen deathly quiet, I turned to see Jillian staring at me with an unreadable expression. Then I looked at Sammi and saw the same expression on her young face. I was suddenly surprised at how hard my seat had become and fidgeted restlessly.

  “A girl can never have too much jewelry,” Jillian scolded. She turned to Sammi and winked at her. “Don’t ever let a boy ever tell you otherwise.”

  Sammi grinned, “You got it, Ms. Cooper.”

  When the girl didn’t offer any additional details, I gave her an expectant look and calmly waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, I cleared my throat and fidgeted in my chair.

  “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

  Sammi produced a menu and slid it over to me.

  “What’s this for? We’ve already placed our orders.”

  “I thought that, perhaps, you’d like to order an appetizer or two while you were waiting.”

  I pushed the menu back towards the girl.

  “No, thanks. Now, about Dame Highland. What more can you tell us?”

  The menu was pushed back over to me.

  “Really? Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try an appetizer? The mini carne asada tostadas are sooo good!”

  I looked at the girl and felt a smile spread across my face. It had just dawned on me what she was doing. I order something else from the menu, and she divulges another juicy bit of info from her research paper.

  Clever snot.

  Wordlessly, I slid the menu closer and flipped it open. I checked the ingredients on the suggested tostadas and nodded approvingly. They did sound good. I glanced at Jillian and saw that she was pretending to look at her phone.

  “All right. Let’s try the mini tostadas. Now, you were saying?�
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  “Would you like a side of guacamole with that?”

  “Is it extra?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

  The girl nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, but it’s only a dollar.”

  “Are you getting a kickback from this place?” I good-naturedly asked.

  Sammi gave me another smile and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And how did you swing that?” I asked, impressed. “You must be one helluva negotiator.”

  “Well, my aunt and uncle own the place.”

  “Ah.”

  “Now, what else would you like to know?”

  “Whatever you can tell us would be great,” I replied.

  Sammi nodded, “Okay. As you may have guessed, Ms. Hilda Highland was a very wealthy woman. She was the sole beneficiary of her late father’s fortune.”

  “Who was her father?” Jillian asked. “What did he do?”

  “She was the only daughter of Harrison Highland. I know he was a Colonel, or some type of officer, in some war, but I forget which one.”

  And this girl wrote a research paper?

  “Did Dame Highland ever marry?”

  Sammi shook her head, “No. At least, not according to the records I checked. Birth, death, marriage, census. There was never any mention of kids. I do remember reading she had quite a few suitors, but she wasn’t interested.”

  “Did she have any other surviving family members?” I asked.

  The menu was produced again, and once more, slid over to me.

  “Can I interest you in a desert tonight?”

  “Man, we haven’t even received our entrees yet,” I protested.

  “I’m just making sure you leave room for dessert,” Sammi said, with mock innocence. “Our caramel empanadas are out of this world.”

  I heard a giggle. A quick check of my girlfriend confirmed that she had become, once more, engrossed with her phone.

  “Sure, why not? You’re gonna have to roll my fat butt out of here.”

  It was Sammi’s turn to giggle.

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Mr. Anderson.”

  So, she knew my name after all?

  “We have a general purpose dolly in the back, and it’ll hold 1000 pounds. You should be okay.”