What's A Ghoul To Do? Part 23

"So, your parents divorced," Steven said, more statement than question.

"No," Mirabelle replied. "My mother was a devout Catholic. She thought it was okay for Andrew to divorce, but it wasn't a choice she was willing to make."

Turning to Steven I asked, "When did your grandmother die?"

"The late eighties. I never liked her."

"She was a bitter woman," Mirabelle said, then caught herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult your family."

"Do not worry over it," Steven was quick to say. "It was common knowledge."

Mirabelle smiled and gave Steven a nod. Then she glanced up at the clock and said, "I really do have to get a move on. The bees need some attention before it gets too late in the day. Come by anytime and we can chat again," she offered.

"As long as you don't greet us with the gun," Steven kidded.

Mirabelle giggled. "Promise." She showed us to the door.

We made our way back up the hill, and Steven asked me, "What happened in there when you fell forward?"

"Maureen pushed me."

"Pardon?"

"Maureen gave me a shove," I said, giving him a direct look that said I wasn't kidding.

"Why?"

"I don't know, but now we know who pushed Gilley down the stairs, and I'm guessing we know that Maria didn't trip on her little tumble either. Maureen's intent on pus.h.i.+ng people."

"So she really could have pushed my grandfather off the roof," Steven said.

I considered that before answering him. "I know that it's possible, Steven, but in my gut I just can't see it happening that way. When Mirabelle was talking about Andrew and Maureen, there was something in Maureen's energy that told me she loved Andrew very much. I can't see her murdering him."

"Then why all this pus.h.i.+ng?" he asked me.

"I think she's trying to tell us something about what happened the night she died. I don't think her heel caught. I think she was pushed, and she's reenacting what happened to her." Steven looked at me thoughtfully, and just as he was about to speak, my cell phone bleeped.

"I've got dirt," Gilley said when I picked up the line.

"Dish," I said.

"I got a hit on your ghost Maureen, whose last name is Emerson. She owned some property smack-dab in the middle of the Sable land."

"That's old news," I said. "Steven and I discovered that, like, an hour ago."

Gilley made a snarfing noise on the line. "h.e.l.lo!" "h.e.l.lo!" he said. "Could you have told me?" he said. "Could you have told me?"

"Sorry, we were sort of in the middle of things. But let me ask you, did you happen to get any info on how she died?"

"Hang on," Gilley said, and I could hear him typing into the computer. "Her obit says she fell down a set of stairs on Christmas Eve. Wait a sec," he said, and I heard more typing. "Here we go, local paper has an online archive, thank G.o.d. Most of these small towns aren't that sophisticated. Maureen Emerson, longtime Uphams.h.i.+re resident... blah, blah, blah . .. yadda, yadda... found it. Says she was attending the Andrew Sable Christmas Eve ball when her heel caught on the top stair and she took a tumble, snapping her neck and killing her instantly, according to an eyewitness."

"Does it say who the eyewitness was?"

There was a pause on Gilley's end as he skimmed the rest of the article. "Nope, just says it was one of the attendees."

I scowled. Why weren't things ever easy? "Gil, here's the drill. I think that Maureen was the ghost that pushed you down the stairs the other day, but I don't think she meant to hurt you. I think she was reliving the night she died. I think someone pushed her down the steps and then claimed to have seen her heel catch on the stair."

"That's a lot of a.s.sumptions, M.J."

"Yeah," I said. "But my gut says I'm right. Can you dig a little deeper into Maureen's death? Maybe find someone who might have been at that party that night?"

"M.J., that was over thirty years ago!"

"I know it's a long shot, Gil, but if anyone is going to work a little magic on that end of it, it's you."

"Just don't expect a miracle," he grumbled.

"Also," I continued, "I need you to look into the background of Maureen's daughter, Mirabelle. I think she's clean, but the fact that she knows her way through the woods to the secret entrance of the Sable house has me a little bothered."

"What secret entrance?"

I'd forgotten that I hadn't filled Gilley in on the tunnel cave-in, and I didn't want to open up that can of worms right now. "Nothing, just work on both of those, would ya?"

"Along with working on this Roger guy, too, I suppose."

"Yep. Along with that," I said, smiling. I knew I was giving Gilley a lot of work, but it was his forte, after all.

I filled Steven in on Gilley's end of the conversation as we made our way back to the lodge through the woods. When we got home we were both famished, so we drove into town to eat. When we arrived at the local diner, Steven hesitated as we were about to walk in, looking through the window of the eatery. "What's up?" I asked.

"My father is in there."

"You're kidding," I said, looking through the window myself. "Did you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, this will be fine. Come on."

We headed inside, and several people looked up as we walked through the door. Steven's father wasn't one of them, and it was obvious that he was so engrossed in his conversation with another man that unless we made a point to call attention to ourselves, he would hardly notice our presence. Steven took advantage of this and walked around the back of the restaurant, then circled back and took a seat directly behind his father's booth.

My eyes widened and I shook my head at his boldness, but incredibly, his father took no notice of us.

"If the permits are signed within the next few months, how quickly can we break ground?" we heard Steven Senior say.

"We'll be able to move fast," the other man said. "I'd say by the following week, as long as there's no holdup at the county office."

"I'm working on making sure there are no unexpected delays," Steven Senior said with a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice.

"I'll bet you are, Dr. Sable," the man said with a dry laugh. "The only matter left is gaining the deeds for phase two. You know what'll happen if-"

"Why don't you let me worry about that, Jim," Steven Senior interrupted. "Your focus should remain on the job at hand."

"Yes, Dr. Sable," the man said quickly. "I didn't mean to imply-"

"Of course you didn't," Steven Senior said as his cell phone chirped. I peeked over the top of my menu as he answered it curtly with, "Did you get it?" There was a pause, then, "Good. Meet me in the lobby this evening," and he hung up the phone. "Shall we go?" he said to his acquaintance as he stood up from the table and threw several bills down.

Just then our waitress came over and began talking about the specials, so any further conversation Steven and I could have heard was drowned out. With regret I watched the two men leave the diner.

After we'd placed our order I said, "Sounds like Daddy is working on a major project."

"Mmmmm," Steven said thoughtfully. "My father has always thought himself important."

"Seems like he's got some sort of construction project here in town."

"Curious, don't you think?" Steven said to me. "He's never been a very caring man, and yet he's been looking in on Willis. His profession is in medicine, yet he's now working on a construction project."

I c.o.c.ked my head sideways. "You think he's up to something."

"Yes."

"Could be a coincidence," I suggested. "Maybe while he was up here checking on his old friend Willis, someone approached him about investing in a project that was too good to pa.s.s up?"

Steven seemed to consider that for a moment. "I just can't see that logic," he finally said. "My father has never cared about anyone but himself. This is why he got into trouble with the medical board three years ago."

"Your father had trouble with the medical board?"

"His license was suspended for ... how do you say moving things in your favor?"

"Manipulating?"

"Yes, for manipulation of the results of a medical trial he was conducting."

"So tell me about the relations.h.i.+p between your father and your grandfather," I said. I was curious about this whole Sable family dynamic. "How did the two of them get along before you came around?"

Steven twirled his fork as he said, "My grandfather told me that when he was a boy, he dreamed of going to medical school and becoming a doctor. His father, however, would have none of it, and pushed my grandfather to take over the family business, mostly timber and mining. When my grandfather had a son, he pushed him to fulfill the dream he never could. But my father flunked out of medical school twice before finally graduating."

The waitress interrupted our conversation when she arrived with our lunch. After she'd gone Steven continued, "So my father graduates, but doesn't do anything with his training. Instead, he goes to South America and becomes a ... eh ... playing boy?"

"He becomes a playboy," I supplied.

"Yes, that too, and he finally comes to Argentina, where he meets my mother and begins a long affair with her. When he gets back to the United States, my grandfather is so furious with his behavior that he will not give him any more money. He advises him to use his medical training to earn his way in the world."

"Ouch," I said as I munched on a fry. "Talk about tough love."

"Exactly. So my father has just enough money to make it the few months to study for his medical boards, which he barely pa.s.ses, and he begins practicing medicine. The trouble for him is that it takes time to build his practice, and my father was not known for his patience.

"Within six months of opening up his practice, he starts up again with his college girlfriend and proposes."

"He's married to Corrin Wharton, right?" I said.

"You've heard of her?"

"I've heard of her filthy-rich daddy," I said, giving my eyebrows a bounce.

"I think it was love at first sight," Steven mocked.

"So he marries Corrin; then what?"

"My father thinks he's in the clear, and goes back to the old lifestyle of long visits to Argentina and making false promises to my mother. This is about the time I was conceived, and as my mother tells it, everything was going along well until my father is caught with my mother by a friend of Corrin's."

"The plot thickens," I said.

"Pardon?" Steven asked. "What thickens?"

"Things become complicated," I explained.

"Very," he said. "My mother said that my father told her he had to go back to Boston to take care of the mess caused by his wife's friend, but that he would be back soon and the two of them would eventually marry."

"So let me guess where this is headed," I said, thinking that Steven lucked out when he got his apparent good sense from his mother. "Your mother never sees him again."

"Banjo," Steven said, pointing a pretend gun at me.

"Bingo," I corrected with a giggle. "The term is, 'Bingo.'"

"Banjo, bingo," Steven said, waving his hand. "Anyway, when my father gets back to Boston, his wife threatens to divorce him if he doesn't stop playboying, and to make sure he doesn't get into trouble again she makes him go back to his medical practice. She also hired and paid his nursing staff to keep watch on him and report directly to her."

"And did the relations.h.i.+p between your grandfather and your father ever improve after your father tried to declare him incompetent for acknowledging you as an heir?"

Steven nodded. "Yes, but only on the ... er... like on the top of the water?"

"Surface," I said, then took a bite of sandwich.

"Yes, surface. After a few years my father became a regular visitor at the lodge, except, of course, during the summer, when I was here; then he would come up only once or twice and stay in town at Helen's. The two men would go out on their hunts, something I never enjoyed, but which both of them seemed to like. Still, I don't think my grandfather ever fully trusted my father again."

"You still believe Steven Senior was only playacting to get back into Andrew's good graces?"

"My father was on a very short dog leash," Steven said. "He could not do anything without his wife knowing about it. His only freedom was up here with my grandfather."

"But your grandfather wasn't buying it," I said, more fact than question.

"Exactly."

"So how is that you ended up in medicine? I mean, your father hardly sounds like the kind of man you'd want to follow in the footsteps of."

"That is the true ... how do you say, like iron?"

"Irony," I supplied.

Steven nodded. "When I was a small boy, my mother tried very hard to give me the impression that my father was a great man of medicine, and that the reason he was not able to come live with us was because he was busy saving sick children around the world."

"Poor woman," I said sadly. "She must have felt bad about your not having a father figure."