From a French door in the locutorium, Emory stared at the boathouse. He could see the top of the waterwheel on its far side as it rotated with the river’s rapid current. He lowered his eyes to the pool by the house and noticed the table umbrellas were now all in place. Reflected in one of the French door panes, he watched Juniper usher Esq. Jennifer Boone – the only remaining guest – to the front door. Emory turned from the door and saw his partners stepping away from the hors d’oeuvres table.
Jeff waved to the piano. “Hey, why don’t you play something?”
Virginia scooted onto the piano bench. “What do you want me to play?”
“The Halloween theme.”
She scoffed. “You always ask for that.” As she began to play, Emory came to the piano to listen alongside Jeff. When Juniper followed a moment later, Virginia stopped playing. “Sorry.”
Juniper brushed aside her concern. “Please. I told you to make yourself at home. I’m heading back to Knoxville.”
Emory asked, “Will you be back tomorrow?”
“Not here, but I’ll see you at The Monolith. The ashes should be ready now, so I’ll take them to Arizona tonight and fly back in the morning. Will you all be okay until I return?”
“Of course,” replied Virginia. “And we have your number in case anything comes up.”
Jeff scanned the room. “Is Eden around?”
Juniper grabbed the golden urn. “She went to sulk, but not before telling me that if she isn’t listed as a beneficiary in the residuary clause to receive at least one building, she plans to contest the will. And she’s not moving out until the matter is settled.”
Jeff pointed at their host. “Now that everyone is gone, you need to answer my question. Who is Zyus Drake?”
Juniper scrunched her face into an angry frown. “I told you I’m not at liberty to discuss the matter.”
As Jeff sighed in frustration, Emory asked, “Did you know what was in the will?”
Juniper threw a hand to her chest. “I had no idea.”
“But you seemed to know what was going to happen with Eden.”
“Oh, that. I know how Ms. Geister felt about her cousin, and I figured she was going to take the opportunity to zing her.”
“What’s with the bad blood?” asked Virginia.
“From the moment I met her, Eden has treated me like a servant. At first, I took it because she was Ms. Geister’s relative, but Ms. Geister’s the one who told me to speak up for myself and not to let Eden get away with it. I did, and we’ve been fighting ever since.”
Virginia said, “Actually, I meant what’s with the bad blood between the cousins.”
“I don’t know where that began. As long as I’d known Ms. Geister, I think she’d seen Eden maybe two dozen times. They always treated each other like family – bickering at times and chummy at others. It did get really bad a few months ago, when Eden was turned down for an EARTH Foundation grant. She did not take it well.”
Emory asked, “She’s a researcher?”
“A microbiology professor.”
“Why was it turned down?”
“Ms. Geister never told me, but my guess was she didn’t want any semblance of nepotism within her foundation. She saw it as her legacy and wouldn’t risk tarnishing its name.”
“What else can you tell us about Eden?” Emory pulled out his phone to type notes.
“Let’s see.” Juniper set the urn on the piano. “Her father was the brother of Blair’s mother. They grew up together here in Calhoun. She married some rodeo bull-rider when she was in her twenties, but it didn’t last long, and she retook her maiden name. By that time, Ms. Geister was already making a name for herself in the construction industry.”
Emory asked, “What do you know of the Pangram Box?”
“Nothing. That was the first I’d heard of it.” Juniper shuddered. “Honestly, I hope Zyus Drake doesn’t find it, whatever it is. I’d rather everything go to the beneficiaries of that residuary clause.”
“Hold up,” said Jeff. “Do you know who the beneficiaries are?”
“No, but it has to be better than Zyus. I’d be happier if I never hear that name again.”
Emory asked, “What if the residuary clause awards everything to Eden?”
Juniper thought for a moment. “I don’t believe Ms. Geister would do that. Perhaps she was right that it’s better for us to leave it to Fate. I should get on the road. Call or text me if you need anything.” Urn in hand, she walked out the front door.
Jeff smirked at Emory. “But we’re not going to leave it to Fate, are we?”
Emory replied, “No, we’re not.”
With four plates loaded on each side, Jeff positioned his traps under the middle of the barbell and lifted it from the squat rack.
Spotting him, Emory kept his forearms beneath Jeff’s lats and mimicked his motion while they discussed the case. “Why 114? That’s such an odd choice. It’s not quite a week. It works out to just over six-and-a-half days. There must be some significance to it. Maybe it’s a clue to the location of the Pangram Box.”
Jeff put the bar back on the rack after a few reps. “You know, it’s a little difficult to concentrate on squatting when you’re whispering case notes in my ear.”
Emory stepped to the right to take off a couple of plates. “I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“You can’t encounter a puzzle without trying to solve it.” Jeff removed two plates from the left side of the bar. “Leave this one alone. It’s not meant for you. It’s for Zyus Drake. We have enough on our plate trying to figure out if and how two people were murdered in this house.” He tapped the barbell. “You’re up.”
Emory began his squats with Jeff spotting him, but he paused after a single rep. “You’re right. We shouldn’t interfere with a potential beneficiary and the contingency placed on his inheritance. What would we do if we found it? Put it back so he could find it on his own?”
“Exactly. Keep squatting. Remember, our client is Juniper Crane, and she told us she’d rather everything in that Pangram Box go to the residuary beneficiaries.”
“That’s another thing.” Emory put the bar back on the rack, and looked at Jeff in the mirror mounted on the wall. “The attorney must know the location of the Box, right? Surely Blair Geister wouldn’t take a chance on it never being found.”
“Maybe.” Jeff cupped Emory’s shoulders, both men looking in the mirror. “We still haven’t toured the whole house. How about we look for the Pangram Box as we do, keep it where it is—”
Emory turned around and faced Jeff. “How is it you get me so well?”
Jeff kept himself from smiling, even as he could see Emory’s brown eyes trying to lock on his. “Leg press.”
“What?”
“Next is leg press.” Jeff led him to the machine. “You sure don’t make it easy.”
“Working out?” Emory added plates to the leg press.
Jeff sat in the machine. “Figuring you out.”
“What do you mean? I’m an open book.”
Jeff laughed. “Sure, you are. One that snaps shut on your nose as soon as you start reading it.”
“I don’t think I’m that bad.”
Jeff started his set. “What are we doing?”
“Legs.”
“No, I mean you and me. There are times I feel like we’re getting close, but most of the time, I sense you blocking me.”
“I’m sorry.” Emory turned his focus to the floor. “I don’t mean to.”
Jeff stepped out of the machine and lifted Emory’s chin, forcing eye contact. “Then why do it? We work together. We have fun together.”
“I put myself out there for someone once, and it didn’t go well.”
“In college?”
Emory took Jeff’s place in the leg press. “Before that.”
“What happened?”
“I almost died, but I don’t want to go into it.” Emory started his set.
“Of course, because that would be telling me something about you.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“Are you kidding?!” Jeff scowled and opened his arms. “I actually am an open book. Thumb through at will.”
“Are you though?” Emory jumped up after three reps.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just that I don’t know everything about you I’d need to before—”
Jeff tapped on Emory’s chest with his index finger. “No, you meant something specific. What is it?”
“Seriously, nothing.”
Jeff sighed. “It’s like seeking warmth from a snow blanket.”
“I’m not cold. I’m just cautious.”
“You’re too damn cautious!”
“You’re not cautious enough!”
“Just tell me what you meant.”
Emory blurted out, “I don’t trust you!”
Jeff caught his breath, shook his head and side-eyed him. “And there it is.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Jeff headed for the door. “I’m done. And you can trust me on that.”
Virginia knocked on the rustic mahogany door and waited for Edgar Strand to respond. She glanced at Blair Geister’s property to look for the Easter Island heads, but when she couldn’t spot them, she figured they must be further down the wrought iron fence line, toward the river. She noticed one side of Geisterhaus was just a few feet from the fence, and she was about to check the roof for gargoyles when she heard a sound coming from the door. She muffled a gasp but couldn’t keep her shoulders from jumping when the unpleasant face of a middle-aged man with thinning black hair and brown eyes popped into the peephole window. “Edgar Strand?”
“That’s right,” he rasped in the voice of a heavy smoker. “Who are you?”
“I’m Virginia Kennon, private investigator. May I talk to you about your neighbor, Blair Geister?”
Edgar shut the peephole and opened the door. “I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but come in.”
Virginia scanned the interior as he led her to a large living room with picture windows overlooking an immaculate and extensive lawn stretching to the riverbank. The house’s décor could not have been more different from the neighboring house – framed pictures in place of artwork, mismatched furnishings representing every decade from the past half-century and beige carpeting instead of tile or hardwood floors.
Virginia plastered on a smile. “You have a lovely home. Do you live here alone?”
“My wife and I are separated for the moment, and the kids are in college.”
“What do you do for a living, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I own a business that builds, inspects and repairs water towers.” Edgar waved her to the off-white couch as he sat in a black recliner. “Have a seat.”
“Thank you.” Virginia sat and continued looking around as if admiring her surroundings when she was in fact searching for any clues about her host. She saw pictures on a lace-covered table shoved against one wall for no apparent reason, and one in particular caught her attention – a photo of Edgar with two other men standing in the foreground of a water tower with the city of Calhoun’s name painted on it. “Your house reminds me of Blair Geister’s.”
“Mine’s a few years older.”
“Do your lights sometimes flicker too?”
“Of course not. Are they LED lights on a dimmer?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Check to see. It could be that the dimmer switch isn’t compatible with the bulb.”
“I’ll check.” Virginia laughed. “Good to know it’s not a ghost. Speaking of which—”
Edgar cut her off. “Before you go asking me questions, you need to know my view of the dearly departed is tainted by the fact that I couldn’t stand her.”
“Why is that?”
“She was the worst neighbor you could possibly imagine. We tried to be neighborly when she first moved in. We introduced ourselves, took over a nice casserole and even gave her a beautiful white-leather family Bible as a house-warming gift. You think she appreciated it?”
“I’m guessing no.”
“She could not get us out of her house fast enough, like we were unwelcome. Then she started building that monstrosity out there on the water.”
“The boathouse. I understand you were suing her over that.”
Edgar shook his head. “Your information is outdated. The rigged courts decided against me. No justice in this world.”
“I wasn’t aware. What was the boathouse suit about specifically?”
Edgar pointed in the direction of the water. “There was a normal-sized dock when she bought the place, and then she built it out all the way to the middle of the river and put all that machinery in it.”
“I actually know a little something about riparian rights from another case I worked on. Doesn’t a property’s rights to an adjacent river extend to the middle of the water.”
“Not if it impedes other people’s use of it!” Edgar’s face burst from pasty to red. “I’m telling you, she must’ve bribed the Army Corps of Engineers to approve the permit.”
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Edgar didn’t acknowledge her apology, instead continuing with his rant. “After that, she was at it again, putting up those giant pagan idols all along my fence. Can’t even enjoy the river anymore without those damn heads staring me down.” He paused, letting out an aggravated breath. “Now that she’s dead, do you know what’s going to happen to the house?”
Although she knew it was to be converted into a museum, Virginia figured the safest answer was, “I’m not sure. Why? Are you interested in it?”
“I don’t want to buy it! It’s my chance to get rid of those damn things before the place goes on the market. Oh, and she wasn’t done with just that. C’mere, let me show you.”
Virginia followed him upstairs to a closed set of double doors. He opened them into what appeared to be a den, but the lighting was so dim, she couldn’t tell for certain.
Edgar turned on the lights, illuminating another mishmash room – metal desk, corduroy recliner, mounted deer head and a harsh halogen lamp. Two items in particular caught Virginia’s attention. The first was a cheap, department-store mannequin wearing an executioner’s hood and holding the wooden handle of a curved-blade battle axe balanced at its feet. The second was a glass-enclosed stack of time-stained papers.
Virginia walked over to the case and saw the top page bordered with intricate drawings of men in robes and a textbox in the center with the header, The Holy Bible.
Edgar beamed as he told her, “That’s an original King James Bible. At the time, they sold both bound and unbound copies, the bound being more expensive, of course.”
“It’s amazing.” Virginia eyed the executioner. “Is that authentic too?”
“The blade is. Not the hood.” Edgar crossed his arms, admiring it. “Ever get the feeling you were born in the wrong time?”
Virginia shook her head. “Not so much.”
He waved around the room. “This used to be my office. I keep it closed off now because the view… disagrees with me.”
He pulled a cord that opened three pairs of heavy drapes, exposing picture windows facing Blair Geister’s property. “Ever since she put up those devilish things!”
Virginia stepped closer to the window and threw her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god.” Atop Blair Geister’s roof, about thirty feet away, were perched three hideous gargoyles, each grinning into one of Edgar’s office windows.
“I’ll thank you not to blaspheme in my house.”
“Sorry.” She shook her head. “I certainly see why you had issues with Blair Geister.”
Edgar almost smiled at the validation. “I’m better now, knowing she’s where she belongs – burning in Hell.”