“Really, I’m fine.” I gazed at Eric. “You got my e-mail.”
“Yeah,” he said. “And if you ever leave me a message like that again without contacting me personally, I’ll kill you.”
Jane stood and Eric reached for her when she swayed.
“I’m fine,” Jane said.
“I’m hearing that a lot,” he said, glancing back at me. “But do me a favor.” He led Jane over to the couch. “Sit here for a minute until you’re better than fine.”
Mac was still staring at me, his forehead furrowed with concern. Was he worried? Angry? Confused? I couldn’t tell. Did it matter?
It did matter, I decided. Even if he was involved with someone else, I still wanted to be his friend. And although that thought was incredibly depressing, I would simply have to muddle through and live with it. I gave him a weak smile that he returned with a broad grin.
The pain was subsiding in my leg and I felt less dizzy, too. So after a few deep breaths, I pushed myself out of the chair, crossed to the couch, and gave Jane a hug. “I’m so proud of you, but you scared the hell out of me.”
“Likewise,” she muttered.
As police officers worked in the background, Eric explained that even before he read my e-mail, he’d heard back from the police chief in Long Beach, who answered his question about Andrew Braxton’s next of kin. “He told me that besides his wife and kids, Andrew had a stepmother. Her name was Althea Braxton. It couldn’t be a coincidence.”
Eric had been about to go and arrest Althea when Mac called to tell him that he’d seen me walk next door to Jesse’s house.
I looked at Mac. “Thank you.”
He flashed me another grin but said nothing.
“By then,” Eric continued, “I had uncovered most of Althea’s murky background. Your e-mail filled in the blanks. My men and I raced over here to save the day, but it seems that you two were able to save yourselves.”
“I guess we did,” I said.
Jane smiled wearily. “Sort of.”
Eric frowned. “I’ve just got one question. What was Whitney Gallagher doing here?”
“You really don’t want to know,” I muttered.
I figured I owed Whitney my gratitude for barging in the way she did, but I was pretty certain she wouldn’t return my thanks.
*
A few hours later, after Althea was processed and thrown in jail, Eric caught up with me, Mac and Jane to commiserate over pizza and wine at my house. We were joined by Emily, Lizzie and Hal, and Marigold, who had all been worried sick about us after hearing through the grapevine that something awful had happened at Jesse’s place.
Knowing the grapevine would travel with the speed of sound, I gave my father a quick call out at Uncle Pete’s winery to let him know I was safe and sound.
“Damn good thing you called,” he said. “Natty Terrell just showed up to taste Pete’s new batch of Rusty Ridge Pinot Noir. She couldn’t wait to share the story with us.”
I sighed. Natty owned the flower shop on the square and had one of the biggest mouths in town. I gave Dad the quickie version of what had happened. It was all pretty bad, but the good news was that Jane and I were fine and Jesse’s killer was in jail.
“Sorry if it disappoints Natty,” I said, “but please tell her I survived.”
“It won’t disappoint her because she’ll be able to say she got the scoop directly from the horse’s mouth. With her spreading the news, I figure the whole town should know the story by midnight.”
“Good.” I smiled. “How’s the Pinot, by the way?”
“You’re going to love it, honey,” he said. “I’ll bring you a bottle if you’ll do me a favor and stay out of trouble.”
“It’s a deal.”
I hung up the phone and gazed at my friends. It was lovely to be with people who were celebrating the fact that Jane and I were alive and well.
I caught Emily’s gaze and realized that I’d been so wrapped up in solving Jesse’s murder that I’d neglected to talk to her about what had happened the other day at her house when Gus met the ghost of Mrs. Rawley. I figured she’d already heard it all by now, but I was wrong.
“Gus Peratti was at my house?”
“Yes, a few days ago,” I said. “He said he was supposed to meet you there, but then he realized he’d made a mistake. He ended up going over to the tea shop instead.”
“That’s right. He came by the tea shop but didn’t mention that he’d been at my house.” She looked puzzled.
“You didn’t arrange to meet him at your house?”
“Of course not.” She stared at me intently. “What aren’t you telling me, Shannon?”
Was it possible that Gus had been lured to the house by something other than Emily’s request? By a lovesick ghost, maybe? Was there more going on here? Did Mrs. Rawley have powers we didn’t know about?