The Ghost in Roomette Four Read online

  “You mean hold another one?” Tidsy asked. “I suppose we could try holding it on the train, the next time the Silver Gorge is in the rail yard in Oakland.”

  Jill shook her head. “This is something we can do tomorrow at the party. We don’t have to hold a séance. If our goal is to find out who killed Kevin Randall, we can get just as much mileage out of the threat of a séance.”

  Tidsy nodded as she finished off her sandwich. “I see where you’re headed.”

  “I don’t,” Margaret said. “What do you mean?”

  “We smoke out the killer,” Tidsy said.

  Jill elaborated on her plan. “The man I saw on the train the day Kevin died is big and bulky. He has a long nose and cold, unpleasant blue eyes. When I described him, Margaret, you told me you’re certain you’ve seen him before, maybe because he works for your uncle’s company. If that’s the case, he might be at the party tomorrow afternoon. If this man is there, here’s what I think we should do. Tidsy, you ask Margaret about her recent trip to Salt Lake City. That gives Margaret her opening. She brings up the reason she took the trip, to ride in the supposedly haunted roomette.”

  Tidsy laughed. “Perfect. Margaret, you announce that you’re certain Kevin was murdered and that his ghost is trying to contact you. Then I’ll bring up the séance, saying that we ought to hold one and see if we can contact Kevin to find out more about his killer. That will knock everyone for a loop, especially the guilty party.”

  Margaret looked dubious, pushing aside the crust of her chicken salad sandwich. “I should say it will. I can just hear what my aunt will say.”

  “Helen will be all right with it,” Tidsy predicted. “Jill, you watch and listen. Keep an eye on Long Nose to see how he reacts to all of this. But watch yourself. We don’t want him realizing that he’s seen you before because you were the Zephyrette on that run.”

  Jill nodded. “I figure if this man has taken all these steps to make Kevin’s death look like natural causes, hearing that Margaret thinks it’s murder should make him nervous. And nervous people make mistakes.”

  “Indeed they do,” Tidsy said. “It should work, if Long Nose shows up.”

  “If he doesn’t,” Jill said, “it’s back to the drawing board.” She looked at the top of the three-tiered tray, at the little desserts assembled there. “Now I am going to have that lemon tart.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jill dressed with care for the Vennors’ garden party, in a short-sleeved dress, with pink rosebuds and blooms scattered on a white cotton background. The dress had a slim skirt and a V-neckline that showed off the gold chain she fastened around her neck. Her low-heeled, open-toed white shoes completed the ensemble. She carried a white straw handbag as she went down the stairs to the living room.

  Her father had gone out after breakfast, to play tennis with a friend on the courts at a nearby city park. Drew had disappeared right after breakfast, saying he was going to West Oakland to rehearse with his band mates. Lucy, too, had left the house early. She and her fiancé had loaded up Ethan’s car with beach gear and a packed picnic basket, then they headed for the coastal town of Half Moon Bay and a picnic with friends. Jill had eaten a light lunch with her mother earlier. Now she found Mrs. McLeod relaxing on the chair in the living room bay window, her feet on the ottoman, the cat on her lap. A glass of iced tea was on a nearby table, along with several books.

  “We’re all leaving you alone today,” Jill said.

  Her mother laughed. “I don’t mind a bit. I’m going to sit here and read all afternoon.” She stroked the cat, who shifted, stretched and circled into a tight ball, putting her paws over her nose. “Sophie and I will hold the fort. You look lovely. The weather’s just right for an outdoor party. Blue skies and warm temperatures, but it’s not too hot. What time is Mike picking you up?”

  Jill looked at the clock above the mantel. It was nearly one o’clock. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  “I thought the party started at two,” Lora McLeod said.

  “It does. But I want to have plenty of time to find the address.” That wasn’t the only reason, though. During lunch on Friday, Jill and Tidsy had agreed to arrive early, to meet Margaret’s aunt and uncle and, as Tidsy put it, get the lay of the land.

  Mike came to the front door shortly before one, dressed in white shirt, tan slacks and lightweight sports coat. He greeted Jill with a quick kiss on the cheek and came inside to say hello to her mother.

  “Have a wonderful time,” Mrs. McLeod told them as she picked up a book. “I’ll look forward to hearing all about the party.”

  They walked out to Mike’s Hudson, which was parked in the driveway. Leaving Alameda, they traveled through the Tube to Oakland, then around Lake Merritt to Lakeshore Avenue. Jill consulted her handwritten note, the directions that Margaret had given her the day before. “Take Lakeshore to Trestle Glen Road, then turn left onto Sunnyhills Road and right onto Hillcroft Circle.” As Mike approached the intersection of Sunnyhills and Hillcroft, Jill looked at the street sign. For some reason, Hillcroft sounded familiar. But she couldn’t recall why. Maybe she had been here before. After Mike made the turn, she said, “It’s the fifth house on the right, with a circular drive.”

  “I see it. I’ll park on the street. Easier to make our getaway.” He pulled the Hudson to the curb just before the driveway, which was marked by a large brass mailbox on a post, with black numbers denoting the address. They got out of the car. As they walked toward the drive, a horn blared behind them. Jill turned to see a bright red convertible pull up behind Mike’s car, Tidsy at the wheel. They detoured to meet her.

  Mike gave an admiring whistle as he ran a hand over the car’s sleek hood. “That’s the new Dodge Coronet. Great-looking car.”

  Tidsy opened the driver’s-side door and stepped out of the car, wearing a red dress with a white geometric print, the crimson fabric very nearly the same shade as the car’s paint job. “You like it? I bought it a few months ago. A V-eight, handles like a dream. Good to see you, Mike. You too, Jill.” She reached into the car and snagged her purse, a red leather bag with brass buckles that went with her shoes. “So are we ready for this shindig?”

  Ready as I’ll ever be, Jill thought, thinking of the strategy she, Tidsy and Margaret had discussed yesterday.

  They walked up the circular drive that led to the Vennors’ two-story house, which was built in the Mediterranean style, with a white stucco exterior and a tile roof. Pale green trim surrounded the windows. Above the front door was an arch decorated with a half-circle relief of green leaves. Rose bushes clustered in front of the windows, with blooms of pink and yellow. On either side of the door, large ceramic pots glazed in the same shade of green held bright red geraniums. The front door was oak, with a large circular brass knocker and a doorbell on the right side.

  Mike rang the bell. The door was opened by a Negro maid wearing a crisp white uniform. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Tidsdale.”

  “Hello, Agnes,” Tidsy said. “All set for the party?”

  The maid smiled. “Yes, ma’am, we certainly are. Come on into the living room and I’ll let Mrs. Vennor know that you’re here.”

  The maid ushered them into a central hallway and then to the living room on the right. The spacious room had cream-colored walls highlighting various paintings, mostly landscapes. A bright oriental rug in shades of blue, green and red covered most of the hardwood floor. Mossy green drapes hung on the front window, framing another view of the roses outside. French doors on the back wall stood open, leading to a patio. There was a fireplace on the long wall, with framed family photographs lining the mantel. The room was furnished with a low, modern sofa and two matching armchairs upholstered in a nubby green fabric.

  Jill walked to the French doors and looked out. The patio was a semi-circle, paved in red and gold flagstones, with wide, shallow steps going down to the lawn. Several big ceramic pots were grouped here and there on the patio, displaying geraniums, with blooms in red, wh
ite, pink and coral. Colorful curved metal chairs, light green and blue, were arranged around small round tables. Beyond the patio, additional tables and chairs had been set up all around the wide lawn. Margaret had told Jill that the party was catered. Jill saw the door leading to the kitchen, and through this, maids and waiters were carrying platters of food out to the long buffet table at one end of the patio. At the other end of the patio was a full bar staffed by two bartenders.

  “Tidsy! You and your friends are here. Welcome.” Helen Vennor was a tall woman with short salt-and-pepper hair above a pleasant, round face. She wore a full-skirted dress of pale blue seersucker, covered with a pattern of tiny white flowers. Jill recognized her from that day at the Oakland Mole. Mrs. Vennor was a good head taller than Tidsy, the difference marked as she put her arm around the smaller woman. “Good to see you, old friend.”

  “Who are you calling old?” Tidsy cracked, in mock anger. “We have known each other a long time, I agree. Thirty years ago, Helen and I were flappers together, drinking bathtub hooch and dancing the Charleston. They used to call us Mutt and Jeff.”

  Jill laughed. “Tidsy, I can just picture you dancing the Charleston.”

  “I was damned good at it, too.”

  “Much better than I was.” Mrs. Vennor extended her hand to Jill. “Miss McLeod, I remember you from that day at the Oakland Mole, when poor Kevin… It was so kind of you to call me, and to stay with Margaret until I arrived.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. This is my friend, Mike Scolari.”

  Mrs. Vennor shook their hands. “Margaret will be down soon. Here are Dan and the children.”

  She turned as a tall, well-built man joined them, followed by two teenagers. The man was in his fifties, dressed in a lightweight summer suit. This was Daniel Vennor, Margaret’s uncle and the head of the Vennor Corporation, where Kevin Randall had worked. With him were the Vennors’ two teenaged offspring, Charles and Elizabeth, otherwise known as Chuck and Betty. Chuck was seventeen, the older of the two, tall like his father, with his brown eyes and regular features. Betty, who was fourteen, had a round face and a gangly adolescent frame. She resembled her mother.

  “I shut Skeeter in the bedroom, like you asked,” Betty told her mother.

  “Thank you. We have a dog, a rapscallion of a mutt,” Helen Vennor said. “We love her but if we leave her out during the party, she’ll be climbing in everyone’s laps.”

  “Eating the canapés is more like it,” her husband said.

  “Now that we’ve all met,” Tidsy declared, “point me to the bar. I need a drink.”

  Dan Vennor laughed. “Back this way, Tidsy. I have a new single malt scotch you should try.” They all went out to the patio, where a bar had been set up. Mr. Vennor poured a scotch for Tidsy, then asked Jill and Mike what they wanted to drink.

  “Nothing right now, thank you,” Jill said. “Maybe later.”

  Mike took a beer. As Daniel Vennor and Tidsy discussed the merits of the scotch, Jill and Mike walked to the edge of the patio, looking out at the lawn. Roses and rhododendrons lined the redwood fences surrounding the backyard. A moment later, Margaret joined them, wearing a pale green linen dress that set off her dark hair. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.” She led the way, showing them through the house.

  The afternoon sun was warm when they returned to the patio. Other guests were arriving, some sitting in the living room, others heading out the French doors to the patio and the backyard. People greeted each other and mingled, moving from group to group, gathering at the bar and the buffet table. The noise level increased, a pleasant buzz of conversation mixed with the clink of silverware on plates and ice cubes in glasses. Jill heard scraps of conversation, weaving in and out, as people discussed baseball, movies and the two biggest news stories of the day, the Armistice in Korea and the Key System strike.

  “It’s quite a crowd,” Jill said.

  “My aunt and uncle know lots of people,” Margaret said, pointing out the publisher of the Oakland Tribune and a member of the city council. “Those people near the bar are from Uncle Dan’s company, and that woman in the yellow dress does volunteer work with Aunt Helen. I’m sure you’ve met important people on the train.”

  “I certainly have. Most recently Angelo Constanza, the opera singer, and Lydia Stafford, the writer.”

  Jill heard someone call her name and turned to see another Margaret, this one older and a familiar face. Benjamin and Margaret Finch had been passengers on the same train journey back in December, when she’d also met Mike and Tidsy. The same run, in fact, with the writer, the opera tenor, and his wife. Mr. Finch owned several canning factories located in Oakland’s Fruitvale district and his wife was well-known in East Bay social circles. It wasn’t surprising that they would know the Vennors. Jill and Mike talked with the Finches for a few minutes, with Jill asking after their two daughters, Nan and Cathy. Then the Finches moved away, to talk with other partygoers.

  Jill turned to Mike. “I’ll have that glass of wine now.”

  They walked to the bar, where the white-coated bartender poured a glass of Chardonnay for her. At the buffet table, they filled plates, choosing from a bountiful array of appetizers, everything from deviled eggs to mushroom caps to canapés spread with cheese or deviled ham and walnuts dotted with flavored cream cheese. One chafing dish was filled with Swedish meatballs, another with bacon wrapped around dates. Big bowls at each end of the table held melon balls and strawberries. Jill tried not to go overboard, but it all looked delicious and she had to sample a bit of everything. She nibbled on a puff pastry filled with shrimp and scanned the crowd, but she didn’t see the bulky man who had been arguing with Kevin Randall on the train. Margaret had been sure the man worked for the Vennor Corporation. But Long Nose, as Tidsy referred to him, wasn’t here now. Jill saw Tidsy across the table, a glass of scotch in one hand, a plate of canapés in the other. At the questioning look in Tidsy’s eyes, Jill shook her head. She finished the puff pastry and set the plate on a nearby table that had collected glasses and plates. Mike was nearby, talking with another man who had also been in the Army Air Corps. Margaret was farther away, in a group of three young woman.

  Jill took another sip of wine. Then, with a start, she saw the man she was looking for. The beefy man’s frame was as big as ever inside his light gray suit. He had a bland expression on his sallow face and his pale blue eyes swept over the partygoers. He looked right at Jill, then his gaze moved on. Good. She was hoping he wouldn’t recognize her as the Zephyrette who had been on the train that day. Most people saw the uniform, not the person wearing it. Still, she couldn’t be sure.

  Now the man walked over to Daniel and Helen Vennor, who greeted him with smiles and handshakes. Then Helen Vennor turned to speak to another guest. Jill moved closer, hoping to hear something of the conversation between Vennor and the newcomer.

  “…should have that by the middle of the week,” the man said.

  Vennor nodded. “What about…” Jill couldn’t hear the rest of what he said because he’d turned his head away. Then he moved his head again, and she heard him say, “…Plumas County. I have some concerns about that. We really need to finish it, and soon.”

  The big man nodded. “I agree. I’ll go up there and talk with Pierson, later this week.”

  “Sounds fine,” Vennor said. “Now, this is a party. Let’s keep the shop talk to a minimum. Get yourself a drink, and something to eat.”

  “Of course,” the big man said, with a smile. He headed for the bar, and Jill followed a few steps behind. She heard him order a gin and tonic.

  Plumas County, she thought. And someone named Pierson. Who was Pierson? Did he have a connection with one of those affiliate companies in Plumas County?

  Jill went looking for Margaret and found her talking with an older woman near the buffet table. At the look on Jill’s face, Margaret excused herself and walked toward Jill. “What is it?”

  Jill nodded in the direction of the newcomer. “The ma
n at the end of the bar, the one in the light gray suit. That’s him. The man I saw arguing with Kevin. Have you seen him before?”

  Margaret turned and studied the man, speaking in a low voice. “Yes. When you said he had a long nose, I thought this might be him. His name is Wade Hardcastle. He was Kevin’s supervisor.”

  Was he also Kevin’s killer? Perhaps they would find out.

  “Then we proceed as we discussed,” Jill said. “Let’s find Tidsy.” She set down her wineglass and looked around. Tidsy was no longer at the buffet table. Then she heard a raucous laugh and followed the sound out to the lawn, where Tidsy was working her considerable charm on a silver-haired man who had been introduced earlier as a superior court judge. Margaret followed, a few steps behind.

  Tidsy saw them and took the last swallow of scotch, then raised her empty glass, rattling the ice cubes. “Lovely talking with you, Judge. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going in search of a refill.” She stepped away from the man and turned to Jill and Margaret.

  “He’s here,” Jill said. “On the patio near the bar.”

  Tidsy’s sharp blue eyes took in the people on the patio. Hardcastle turned away from the bar. He crossed the buffet table, and began loading food onto a plate. “I see him. He really does have a long nose.”

  “I overheard him talking with Mr. Vennor. He mentioned Plumas County, and someone named Pierson.”

  Tidsy nodded. “Probably someone who’s working for one of the businesses up there. Well, it’s show time, girls. We all have our parts to play.”

  Margaret moved away first, heading for the patio. She stopped near Hardcastle. Tidsy headed for the bar. Jill followed a few steps behind her. Hardcastle, plate in hand, moved away from the buffet and back toward the bar. He sipped his drink and set it down on a table, then picked up a canapé, taking a bite. Tidsy stepped up to the bar and ordered a fresh scotch. She took a sip, winked at Jill, then turned to Margaret, speaking in a voice loud enough to draw attention. “Margaret, I hear you went to Salt Lake City. Were you visiting friends?”