Premeditated Mortar Page 7

  “What the heck is going on around here?” he asked.

  I gazed up at him. “It’s all about the Gables project.”

  “I still don’t get it. These buildings are fantastic, by the way, even without the rehab.” He gave an approving look at the long row of Victorian structures in front of us. “I know when it’s finished it’ll bring a lot of visitors and revenue to town, but I’m not crazy about the way it’s starting out.”

  “I’m not, either,” I agreed. “To tell the truth, it was just a small group of protesters that showed up, but they succeeded in making a lot of noise and freaking us out by hurling what looked like blood on the woman sitting over there with Mac.”

  He gazed across the grassy expanse where Mac still sat with Rachel Powers. Eric’s frown reappeared. “Do you think she was their intended target?”

  “Probably. She represents the Gables Development Company, so who better to target?” But then I remembered Prudence Baxter bumping into Carrot Head. Had that affected his aim? Had Rachel been the actual target? If not, who or what was the real target?

  Eric stared at Mac and the developer for a few more seconds, then frowned at me. “I haven’t seen her around. Do you know anything about her?”

  “Absolutely nothing, except that she represents the development company. Mac is a new investor in the project, by the way.”

  “I see,” he said slowly, in a way that had me thinking he would do some investigating of the whole Gables project.

  And that made me think of something. “Hey, you’re not going to close us down over this, are you?”

  “Nah, don’t worry. It’s not like we found a dead body or something.”

  I blinked, then looked around for some wood to knock on. There was nothing nearby so I surreptitiously knocked on my head. Good grief, why would he tempt fate like that?

  Oblivious, Eric pulled a small leather-bound notepad and a pen from the pocket of his bomber jacket and flipped to a blank page. “My officers are taking everyone’s statements, so why don’t you give me your version of what happened?”

  I wondered briefly if he was trying to distract me. If so, I appreciated it. I told him exactly what I had seen and the sequence of events. I told him about Orange Cap, explaining that he was the same guy I’d seen creeping around here last week. I told him how Mac had wrestled Orange Cap and how I had tackled Carrot Head to the ground.

  “Pretty heroic of you two.”

  “It didn’t stop the jerk from throwing that red goop at Rachel.” I glanced up at Eric. “Do we even know what the liquid is?”

  “Likely it’s some kind of animal blood. Or it’s just plain fake. Tommy had Lilah collect a vial of the stuff and run it over to Leo. We’ll know more in a few hours.”

  “Good.” Leo Stringer was our town’s lone crime scene investigator. Lilah O’Neil was a police officer whose science background gave her enough knowledge to help Leo when he needed assistance.

  I scowled. “I just hope those protesters didn’t kill a bunch of animals to collect enough blood for their stupid prank.”

  “The possibility of that alone should have them cooling their jets in my jail for a long time.”

  “I sure hope so.” I sighed. “I know it might not sound like a big deal, but those two terrorized everyone here, especially Rachel.” I frowned and glanced around again. “There was another woman here, but she must’ve disappeared before you guys showed up. Her name is Prudence Baxter and she’s staying at Hennessey House. She was marching with the protesters and she kept up with those two guys.”

  “She’s marching with protesters, but staying at Jane’s place?”

  “Yeah. Pretty nervy, right?”

  He nodded as he wrote it down. “I’d say so.”

  “In fact, she was the one who bumped into the red-headed guy holding the brown bag. I wonder if she did it on purpose.”

  “Was she trying to make him miss his real target?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea what the story is there, but you might want to talk to her.”

  “I’ll do that.” He wrote it down in his notepad.

  I rubbed the side of my head, hoping to ward off the headache that was threatening to erupt. “I’ll admit that for a minute there, I truly thought the redheaded guy might be carrying a bomb in that stupid brown bag.”

  “Jeez, Shannon. Come here.” He pulled me into his arms for a hug, rubbing my back for a minute. “For that, I’ll gladly throw the book at both of them.”

  “Thank you, Eric.” I stepped away, anxious to change the subject from bombs and animal blood. “So, Chloe arrives tomorrow.”

  His expression softened at my sister’s name. “Yeah.”

  “Is she staying with you or with me?”

  He gave me a look. “Seriously?”

  “Just wondering,” I said, biting back a smile.

  “She’s staying with me,” he said.

  I almost laughed at the tone of feral possessiveness in his voice. A few months ago the two of them had met and fallen hard for each other. It had all happened in the span of a week and I couldn’t be happier. It meant that Chloe was visiting us more often now, especially during these monthlong hiatuses, but she still had her television show in Hollywood so the two of them couldn’t be together as often as they wanted to be.

  “Once she gets here,” I said, “I want to talk to her about planning a dinner with Dad and Uncle Pete and all of us.”

  “I’ll remind her to call you. Not that she needs reminding. She’ll probably be on the phone with you as soon as she gets to town.”

  I grinned. “True. Anyway, I’ll text everyone and we can compare schedules and choose the best night.”

  “Sounds good.” His forehead wrinkled as he frowned and glanced around. “So back to the incident. I understand that most of the protesters managed to escape before we got here.”

  “Yeah.” In the chaos that followed the blood tossing, I had watched the other rabble-rousers scatter and run down the road. “But there were a couple of television camera crews filming the groundbreaking ceremony. You should talk to them. I’m sure they got plenty of shots of the protesters so you might be able to post their pictures on the local news and identify them that way.”

  “Good idea. Did you recognize any of the protesters?”

  It was my turn to frown. “Just that one woman staying at Jane’s place. I don’t think any of the protesters actually live in Lighthouse Cove.”

  “If anyone would know, it would be you.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, I kind of know everyone around here.”

  Eric pointed to the squad car in which the two main perpetrators were now occupying the backseat. “The redhead over there told Tommy that the protesters are all members of an online chat group dedicated to shutting down the Gables project.”

  I nodded slowly. “Huh. That answers one of my questions. So they could’ve come from anywhere in Northern California or even farther away. I wonder if they’re all as fanatical as those two men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I had to take a minute to put my thoughts together. “First of all, they all sounded really hostile to me. They weren’t talking about shutting down the Gables. They were shouting to burn it down. ‘Burn down the Gables. Gables must die,’ they said. So that makes me think this is deeply personal and that the Gables is a real sore point for them. I wonder if they all have someone in their life, a friend or a relative, who was committed to the insane asylum back in the day.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Very possible.”

  “Yeah, it is. And all the announcements about this project could’ve triggered some bad memories of the times their loved ones were taken away to the asylum.”

  “Possible,” he mused. “Also possible they’re just a bunch of weirdos looking for a cause. I’ll dig some more, have one of my IT guys go
online, check out that group.”

  “Good. I’m afraid the Gables rehab might be a grim reminder of a really traumatic time for their families.”

  He jerked his chin toward the squad car. “Are you giving those two an excuse for doing what they did?”

  I frowned. “No. I don’t excuse their behavior. They frightened everyone and they terrified Rachel Powers. But I want to know specifically why they did it. It obviously has something to do with the insane asylum connection. I mean, I doubt they’re riled up over the thought of having some old buildings repurposed.”

  He snorted. “Not likely.”

  “On the other hand, it could happen.” I shrugged. “People get radicalized over a lot of things these days.”

  He studied my expression. “You’ve given this some thought.”

  I smiled. “I had to do a lot of research in preparation for this project. From one angle, we could be trespassing on sacred ground. You know, how dare we cover up the past by trying to make this place beautiful? Why don’t we just leave it alone and let the whole place crumble to dust and blow away in the wind?”

  He gazed at the row of magnificent Victorian buildings before us. “That would be a real shame.”

  “I think so, too. And Jane agrees. She has a personal connection to this place, too. And it’s not a happy one. But you know Jane. Her goal is to take a moment in her life that was ugly and sad and turn it into something beautiful as a way of celebrating the loved ones who suffered here.” In spite of everything I had to smile, thinking of my best friend. “She doesn’t want to erase their memories, she just wants to make them accessible to more people.”

  “Jane has a beautiful soul,” he murmured.

  “Yes, she does. But someone out there might not agree with her commitment to this cause.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you think she could be a target, too?”

  “Oh God.” The thought had chills threatening to overwhelm me. “I really hope not.”

  His expression turned to stone. “That settles it. I’m going to assign two officers to patrol this area during working hours. And we’ll schedule drive-bys every hour all night long.”

  I felt a wave of relief pass through me. “Thank you. That’s a really good idea and I’m grateful. But you do know that this project is estimated to take a full year to complete.”

  He held up a hand. “We’ll have someone on the property for as long as it takes.”

  “Thanks, Eric.” I patted his arm. “Makes me feel better.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  I laughed. “I hope you interrogate the heck out of those two.”

  He glanced at the squad car. “That’s the plan.” Closing his notepad, he slipped it back into his pocket. “Be careful up here, Shannon. Call me if you see anything suspicious.”

  “I will. See you later, Chief.”

  But I really hoped I wouldn’t see anything more suspicious around here. Weren’t rabble-rousers and animal blood enough for one day?

  Chapter Six

  I waited until the police drove off before I looked around for Mac. I found him chatting with another tenant, who was refurbishing part of another wing to turn into artists’ studios.

  “Hey, you,” he said, slinging his arm around my shoulder. “I’m off to write for a few hours but I’ll try to make it back here later. I want to check on your progress.”

  “You know where I’ll be.”

  After kissing me good-bye at the front doorway of Building Seven, he jogged away to the back parking lot.

  I stepped inside the grand foyer of Jane’s building and had to stop, breathe, and take in the sight of my crew already hard at work. Ladders were erected everywhere along the main hallway and inside several of the rooms. The caustic odor of bleach permeated the air and caused my nose to twitch, so that meant the guys had discovered some patches of mold that they had effectively wiped out. I hoped.

  The electricity was working and every ceiling light and wall sconce was turned on. Still, two dozen light trees stood in various spots around the interior to help brighten up any dark corners. My guys had been busy.

  Wade came walking up the hall with his tablet in his hand, as always. “Hey, there you are. You ready to look around?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Good,” he said. “Carla and I gave out the initial assignments and all the guys jumped right in.”

  “That’s nice to hear.”

  We walked slowly down the hall and I took a look at the rooms as we passed each door. Most of these rooms would be for public use, such as meeting rooms for conferences. The guest rooms would be farther back, away from the front business area.

  “All of the guys opted to wear masks,” Wade continued. “Just in case there’s any residual odors from the fumigating and such.”

  “Did you find more mold? I can smell the bleach.”

  “A few small patches. And you’ll probably catch a whiff of vinegar in some of the wallpapered rooms.”

  “Whatever works,” I said. Vinegar was more effective with porous materials, like wallpaper, drywall, and some types of wood.

  “Right. My point is, everyone wears a mask for now.”

  When Jane and I had visited a couple of weeks ago to survey for the first time, it had been dark and empty and eerie. Now, even with lots of light and clean smells and hard work going on, the place was still unsettling. There were all kinds of wonderful possibilities of course, but remembering what this place had once been was sobering. The feeling of utter abandonment was still palpable and heartbreaking. I knew we could change that, but it would take time and a lot of hard work.

  I had been renovating Victorian homes for years and had seen the devastation that occurred when a venerable old building was left abandoned. Mold and mildew were the least of the problems my crew and I had encountered.

  Happily, the entire Gables complex had already been fumigated so we wouldn’t have to deal with termites or wasps’ nests and beehives inside the walls. Before the fumigation, the rats and other rodents burrowing in the cracks or running loose in the halls had been trapped and collected by a humane catch-and-release service, so we wouldn’t have any trouble with animals.

  There was nothing we could do about the ghosts. All I could do was hope they liked the makeover.

  The development company had also done us the favor of conducting mold and mildew remediation throughout the complex. That was a big relief. We had dealt with the dreaded black mold issue in the past and it wasn’t an easy fix.

  Still, I expected to continue to run into small pockets of mold here and there, especially in places where the ventilation was poor. For now, we would learn to live with the delightful scents of bleach and vinegar.

  The company had also hired experts to go through the entire place and check for asbestos. Unfortunately they found some ceiling tiles and other materials that had been added on during some minor remodeling work in the 1970s. The asbestos abatement experts had taken care of that problem, so as far as I was concerned, my guys were good to go with our part of the cleanup and rehab.

  Wade, Carla, and I had prioritized the most immediate jobs. One team would have to sweep away hundreds of old tiles, chunks of plaster, dead insects, and dirt off the floors of the hallways and all the rooms. Next would come the scraping of walls and ceilings throughout the place. After so many years of neglect, the old paint was cracked and peeling so badly that the hallways resembled odd-looking forests with large, ugly flakes of paint wafting like leaves on the trees. Carla had commented that many of the flakes were bigger than Wade’s hands, and Wade had really big hands.

  Of course, after the scraping we would have to repeat the floor-sweeping round, but it was still better to have the place swept down first thing. Always good to have as tidy a work space as you could manage, if only for the morale factor.

&nbs
p; Now as I gazed around, I was pleased to see that the guys had already started clearing away the main hallway floor. It made me think that we could have the entire hotel swept clean within a week or so, thus keeping to our timeline.

  In the main hall, Wade had assigned six workers to start the job of scraping the loose paint off the walls and ceilings. They were already busy, using extension ladders to reach the ceilings and the tops of the twenty-foot-high walls.

  The main hall was twenty feet wide as well, room enough for ten people to walk side by side. It was amazing—or it would be when we were finished. The wide hall stretched from the front doorway all the way to the grand stairway at the far end, which led to the upper floors. Once it was all cleaned up and the wood was sanded and painted, it was going to be sensational.

  I was pleased to be able to confirm that this part of my research was factual: Dr. Jones really had wanted these wide open spaces on the inside of his hospital.

  “So, everything okay out there on the lawn?” Wade asked.

  I knew he was talking about the protesters. “It got rowdy,” I said. “But no one was really hurt. The woman in charge, Rachel, was drenched in some kind of bloody liquid, which was disgusting but not life-threatening. Two protesters were taken to police headquarters for questioning. I tackled one of them and another woman sat on him to hold him down.”

  “Way to go, boss!” Wade high-fived me. “I’d rather not have to deal with that kind of trouble every day.”

  “You and me both.”

  Together we watched the activity in the main hall for a few minutes. “We’re going to have to expand our workforce for this job.”

  Wade nodded. “Even with extra crew, it’s going to take longer than we had scheduled.”

  “We didn’t really take into consideration how massive this space is,” I said, turning in a slow circle to take it in.