“This is not amusing, Sarah Booth. And it’s in poor taste, I might add.” With my assistance, she got to her feet. She was unsteady for a moment, but then she regained her equilibrium. “Did you really see a ghost? You’re positive it wasn’t some trick of lighting?”
“Carlita Marquez’s spirit is here, in this house, and she wants us to save someone or something. I don’t think she’s evil.”
Tinkie bit her bottom lip. “I wish I’d seen her, too. I want to believe you. It’s just that why would she appear right at the moment I get knocked out?”
That wasn’t a question I wanted to ponder while still crammed into a crawlspace without good ventilation or a speedy path of retreat. “We should go back to the study,” I said. I would come back later to look for evidence.
Even if Tinkie didn’t believe me, I knew I’d seen Carlita Marquez, and she’d asked me to save someone. Federico? Estelle? Both were safe. Then who? Maybe save her spirit from her father? It was very complex.
“You know, you and Jovan are the only people who’ve seen the ghost.” Tinkie was inching her way out, following my lead. She was wobbly but doing okay. If I didn’t get her on a plane and back to Zinnia, she might damage her brain for good. She couldn’t take a lot more bumping and whacking.
“There are stories in town,” I pointed out. “So kids have seen her standing on the balcony.”
“Or they just like telling the story. Good date material. Gives the girl an excuse to cuddle close.”
“For a woman who healed her own breast lump with the help of a faith healer in New Orleans, I find it strange you’re so determined not to believe this house is haunted.”
“I just find the timing interesting. And a little convenient. Maybe you want to see a ghost.”
Now that was the regular Tinkie-a zinger lurking behind every multiglitzed curl. “Thanks.”
“Why do you think the ghost presents to you?”
We were almost back to the study. “Because I’m willing to see her?” I didn’t add that it might be because I had my own ghost and had learned to listen.
Thinking of Jitty brought back the remarks that she’d made earlier in the kitchen while acting out Peyton Place. I stopped dead still and Tinkie bumped into me with a curse. “What’s wrong? I’m not going to have an inch of skin left that isn’t bruised.”
Jitty had said a picture was worth a thousand words. “Tinkie, we can’t be sure Estelle is in Maine.”
“Daniel said he had a photo sent from her phone. He was torn up because he figured some new guy had taken it. Do you think he’s lying?”
“No, but a photo doesn’t prove anything.”
She swung her light so that it was directly in my eyes, blinding me. I pushed it away as she spoke.
“You’re right. What if-”
“What if Estelle is who we’re supposed to save? What if the ghost of Carlita was talking about her daughter?”
Tinkie aimed the light down the passageway we’d just sweated down. “We’re going to find out.”
“You should go to the kitchen and check the dogs. I can do this.”
She ignored me and reversed down the tunnellike path. We’d gone only fifteen or so yards when we both stopped dead in our tracks.
Soft sobbing wafted to us, and this time it was closer. It sounded like a woman, exhausted and ready to give up.
“Estelle!” I called. “Estelle, can you hear us?”
The answer that came chilled me to my bones. “Please. So… much… blood.”
After stumbling and banging our way down the torturous passage and climbing the narrowest stairs I’d ever seen, we finally found Estelle in the back of a cupboard in one of the rooms on the third-floor east wing. In my searches of the house and questioning of the staff, I’d been told the room was a linen closet. I’d even searched it once before.
There were stacks of sheets and towels, but there was also a false front that concealed a space large enough for Estelle’s body. Her hands and feet were tied so tightly, I wondered if the lack of circulation would necessitate amputation. She’d also been gagged, but she’d managed to work that loose. She was bleeding from a head wound and a severe cut to her thigh. Blood, dried and oozing fresh, had puddled around her.
The exterior door of the closet was locked, but using our shoulders, Tinkie and I managed to split the wood at the hinges and crash it open. While Tinkie called an ambulance, I untied Estelle and dragged her out into the hallway.
Estelle had slipped into a thrashing sleep, and I could tell by the heat coming from her body that she had a high fever. She was also dehydrated, but I was afraid to try to rouse her to drink. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I sat on the floor and cradled her head and talked to her, even though she was so delirious she couldn’t possibly understand my words.
I didn’t want to think how long she’d been in that cubbyhole, unable to move and without water or food, bleeding from two serious wounds. I could only hope that her condition wasn’t fatal.
Tinkie came running back upstairs. “The ambulance is on the way, and I put in a call to the Petaluma authorities and Daniel.” She saw the look on my face. “I think he was duped, Sarah Booth. I talked to him when he thought Estelle had broken up with him. He was devastated. I don’t think he had anything to do with this.”
Tinkie had good gut instincts, but I wasn’t as trusting in the area of love as she was. She’d married once and well. She’d lived a life where fairy tales did come true. That hadn’t necessarily been my experience, but I let it go.
“We’ll find out who’s responsible for this when Estelle regains consciousness.” I spoke with more authority than I felt. Looking at the unconscious young woman, skin taut from dehydration, her face pale but hot with fever, and her hands and legs still an unnatural gray color from the lack of circulation, I wondered if she would ever wake up. We had found her, but maybe too late.
Footsteps pounded toward us, and Daniel Martinez came up the stairs. If his expression could be taken at face value, he was shocked and horrified at what he saw.
“Estelle.” He slid across the polished floor on his knees. He picked up her hand and held it to his chest. “Holy Madre,” he whispered. “What’s wrong with her? Who hurt her?”
Tinkie gave him a rundown on how we’d found Estelle, and how we didn’t know who might have hurt her.
I could see the anger building behind his eyes, and when he spoke, the flash of fury was in his speech. “I’ll find the person who did this, and he will pay.”
“Any ideas who it might be?” I asked.
He considered. “Estelle sometimes behaved like a spoiled child. She made enemies, but not the kind that would do this.” He waved a hand over her unconscious body. “Will she live?”
I didn’t have an answer to that, but I heard the sirens of the paramedics. At least the presence of the movie crew and my friends had helped the local economy by keeping the hospital and vet clinic busy.
“Estelle.” He rubbed her hand frantically, as if he could erase the gray tone and bring it back to the full flush of life. “Wake up,” he begged.
I eased her head into his lap and stood. There were things to be done. At a signal from me, Tinkie backed away so we could talk privately.
“So it couldn’t have been Estelle who was haunting the house. She’s been in the closet awhile.” Tinkie was watching as Daniel stroked her hair from her face. If he wasn’t acting, he was truly grief-stricken.
“The timeline is everything. Was Estelle in the closet when I was lured onto the beach?” I’d always assumed it was Estelle playing the role of her dead mother for dramatic effect. Now my theories were blown to hell and I needed to rethink the sequence of events. “Estelle could have pushed Jovan.”