River Bones (Sara Mason Mysteries Book 1) Page 3

  “That's my daughter's room.”

  Daphine nudged her toward the smaller of the two bedrooms, tastefully decorated in purples, lavenders, and greens. It was the only uncluttered room. In fact, it felt serene and smelled of expensive women's fragrances. “After all these years, you still favor the same color scheme,” Sara said.

  So loaded was the tiny house with artist paraphernalia, that Daphine had to move a stack of shrink-wrapped canvasses so they could sit. “There'll be a lot of food up at the fair,” Daphine said. Her kitchen didn't look used at all. Soon, she grabbed a video camera and a well-traveled leather tote, which served as both a purse and art supplies bag. During the few times they had been together since her return, a drawing tablet always stuck out of Daphine's carryall. When Daphine would see something interesting, she would sketch quickly. It didn't matter where they were. Ideas to paint later, she would say.

  They heard the revelry as they walked toward Main Street at the foot of the levee. Sara pulled her jacket close and was thankful she wore comfortable low-heeled boots.

  “You that excited?” Daphine asked. “Slow down.”

  Sara's heart raced. “First time thrills!” She looked forward to experiencing events she had only heard of when younger.

  “More thrilled than when I almost got you a double date for the junior prom?”

  “At least now I have something to wear.”

  They exchanged glances as they walked along, sharing memories and evaluating where they now found themselves in life.

  Booths were set up in every available nook and crevasse along the street with the main attractions being in Old Town. Twelve-foot long grills were filled with various meats cooking. Smoke billowed and odors teased the senses.

  “Let's sample them all,” Daphine said, gesturing to some of the booths.

  At least one stage was erected on either side of each block. Local talent took turns in the limelight. Bands from Dixon, Sacramento, and Lodi would play. Martial arts masters gave demonstrations and instructed young children. Traditional cultural dances would be performed.

  “Mostly, visitors to the area snap up the local arts and crafts,” Daphine said. Every store in town did brisk business. Other groups, like the Humane Society, played to the happy attitudes of people in a relaxed frame of mind to find homes for animals.

  Sara stooped down to calm a caged dog, a street mutt of varied mix. It was less than friendly. Dogs with mean temperaments were always the last ones chosen, if ever. She turned to say something to Daphine and found she had wandered off.

  A man's large hairy hand eased over her shoulder and into the cage to pet the animal. “Oh!” she said, jumping in fright and falling back on her hands.

  The man moved aside. “Didn't mean to scare ya, Missy,” he said, smiling strangely. The gangly man's waistband was held too high by suspenders, looking like his pant legs were cut for high water. He wore a knitted dark blue skullcap and seemed out of place among the crowd. He reminded her of old pictures of her long-dead mid-west uncles in worn-out farm clothes shrunken from too much washing. The dog continued to bark. “If people looked after their pets, animals like this one wouldn't have to be put down,” he said in an accusatory tone.

  He had a point, but the truth was, this dog had been born and deserved a home. The man moved away as Daphine approached.

  Later, Sara and Daphine saw him again. He leaned against the corner of a building groping his genitals as a woman walked past. They looked away before he caught them watching.

  “I'd say he has a problem,” Daphine said under her breath. “And it isn't necessarily on his south end.” Daphine hadn't changed much. She had always been straightforward. She could be serious and laughable at the same time. Yet, many of her remarks stretched thin her aura of elegance and sophistication.

  They saw the gangly man again in another location down the street. Sara caught him watching them but he turned away quickly. He didn't participate in any activities, just stood alone watching people and taking long pulls off a cigarette.

  After firecrackers exploded and the Chinese dragon parade wound its way out of the area, rolling and thunderous drumbeats sounded.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Sara asked.

  “C'mon,” was all Daphine said as they hurried back toward F Street. People converged on one of the staging areas where a huge banner had just been hung and announced Taiko Drummers.

  “I always wanted to bang on those,” Sara said as the drummers warmed up. The Latin music Sara came to understand in the Caribbean taught her much about rhythms. Taiko drumming was high on her list of things yet to experience.

  The lean yet muscular, costumed drummers, including two women, beat out a rhythm as they exploited their instruments and choreography. While Daphine filmed a bit and then sat on the curb and watched, Sara found it difficult to stand still.

  After they had the crowd enthused, one of the drummers called out, “Who would like to beat on the drums?”

  Sara's arm shot up and she was chosen with others. Daphine positioned herself to film the event. Sara gave it her all and felt entranced.

  Afterward, the lead drummer stood in front of her and bowed.

  She wanted to scream Yes! Thank you! but doing so would be disrespectful. She handed the sticks back and bowed in gratitude.

  Once off the stage, a young girl stepped up to her and offered her a pair of sunglasses. “They're yours,” she said. “They fell off your head.”

  Sara bent down to give the girl a hug and watched her timidly run away. Then Sara saw the vulgar man standing in the distance watching.

  “Over there,” Daphine said, gesturing discreetly with her eyes in the opposite direction. “Look. That's Crazy Ike. Stay clear of him. He was investigated for all those murders. Hasn't been cleared as far as I know.”

  Chapter 6

  The March rains hadn't fallen all night. Sara was already up. The sun shone brightly. Tule fog had vanished, but frost laid down a blanket of sparkling white in the very early hours.

  While orchard, field crop, and equipment maintenance went on all year, when the weather began to clear in March, more and more farm vehicles glutted the levees.

  Sara stayed busy with remodeling plans. No former acquaintances sought her out. After thirty years of being away, a whole new generation of residents had evolved.

  Gravel crunched. Someone honked. A curious dream about a man pointing to something dissipated from memory. She had been having that evocative dream off and on for the last several years. She thought the dream would change or vanish after having moved across the country, but it seemed to have followed her. Light footfalls ran up the concrete steps at the side of the house and someone knocked at the porch off the sitting room.

  “Sara? Sara May, you up?”

  Sara crossed the sitting room and stepped into the vestibule. Through the stained glass window of floral and birds, Daphine's dark hair shone like sheen in the bright morning light.

  “Hi, Daph,” she said as she opened the porch door. She and Daphine hugged again, like schoolgirls.

  Daphine's sharp classic features held the years well. Her sea green eyes still sparkled. She walked in talking and shrugged out of her jacket as it rustled with the sounds of rich, soft leather. Her sweater and brown pleated slacks accentuated her flat stomach and slender figure. Like Daphine, Sara, too, stayed slender from all the outdoor activities she enjoyed in Puerto Rico, and her hair remained sun-streaked.

  “I can't believe you bought this creepy old place,” Daphine said as her gaze darted about. She slipped back into her jacket. “How you gonna keep this behemoth warm?”

  “Lucky for me, the Talbots installed an elaborate heating system. It was the newest thing they did before… All I have to do is bring it up to code.”

  “Or wear winter clothes indoors.”

  “You always were a clothes hound.

  Daphine stepped back and looked her up and down. “What about you, Miss Designer Jeans.” She smiled, go
t a far-away look in her eyes. “You know what I remembered about us just now?”

  “Tell me,” Sara said. “Since I've been remembering things I haven't thought of for decades.”

  “Your mom used to collect cast-off clothes to make those country style braided rugs to sell.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Sara shook her head. “You remember that family with all those kids?”

  “We used to sneak clothes from the rummage bag to give to them before your mom could shred them into strips to braid.” She shook her head. “What memories.” They stood a moment, studying one another. Finally, Daphine said, “I want to see this place again.”

  “Bought one big old house.” Sara forced a crooked smile. “Had to hire a cleaning team just to remove the build-up of dust and rat droppings.”

  They stepped into the sitting room and Daphine studied the antiquated fireplace. The room contained few furnishings, an old but comfortable sofa, a chair, and one end table.

  “Compliments of the Aldens,” Sara said. “To hold me through the renovations.”

  “Buck and Linette did well with their retirement home.”

  “With all those antiques and that swimming pool?”

  “Buck said he didn't care that some of the neighbors—our own classmates, mind you—gossiped about the way he remodeled that historical place.”

  “Now it's my turn,” Sara said. “And I don't care what people say about what I do to this house either.”

  Daphine looked up, like she expected grand lighting in a house of that design. Capped off wires hung out of the scrollwork in the center of the ceiling where a fixture once hung.

  “Missing,” Sara said. “Used to be a chandelier in the dining room, this room, and the parlor.” She pointed toward the front room of the house.

  “Oh, it's the parlor now?” Daphine asked, feigning a hoity-toity attitude and flipping her hand in the air. “I have a living room at my house.”

  Sara laughed. The empty house gave their voices a hollow quality. “This old castle will look like a showplace when I'm done.”

  “If you don't end up jumping out of your shorts.”

  Sara regarded her with a keen eye. “If there's a ghost hanging around, it's about to get evicted.” She remembered learning about the voodoo and magic phenomena that permeated the diverse cultures of the Caribbean. Such practices were real and she had even attended one such event. Sara wasn't afraid of ghosts but she needed to proceed with caution.

  “Remember, they think that's old man Talbot's spirit floating around,” Daphine said. “He was never found.”

  Sara had heard the story more than once. “I'm not about to abandon my dream because of rumors.”

  “Talbot was much loved,” Daphine said. “Did you know that?”

  “Heard a few things.”

  “Anywhere he found a mug and a chair, he sat and talked about Delta politics, coffee grinds, or gold panning. Always with humor.” Daphine looked around. “Let me see the house. I looked at it when it was on the market years ago.”

  “I take it you believe in ghosts.”

  “Well, I didn't, but a few years ago, I was driving by on a clear night….”

  “And?”

  Daphine's eyes opened wide. “I saw a light floating around inside here.”

  “The house was boarded up, wasn't it?”

  “Yeah, but that's what made it scary. Dim light filtered through cracks of some of the window boards. No one was supposed to be inside.”

  Chapter 7

  Sara led Daphine through the rooms of the first floor. In the dining room, she said, “This fireplace will be removed.”

  “Taking it out?”

  “Why do I need two fireplaces? We'll be knocking down some walls to showcase these servants' stairs between the kitchen and this room.”

  “Servant's stairs?”

  “You've never heard that term?”

  “Tell me something I don't know.”

  “In Victorian houses servants occupied the back bedroom and used these cramped staircases to access the various floors. The homeowners never used this staircase.” Sara laughed while Daphine pranced around pretending to be too good to even look at the back staircase.

  They peeked into the temporary bedroom on the north side where Sara confined herself pending renovations. Other than the Alden's loaned twin bed and dresser, she had purchased a new stereo system to enjoy her music. A commercial grade computer and peripheral equipment, also new, filled one end of the room. She needed to complete her obligation of two more games. The new equipment better served her programming. She also wanted to start traveling and could now afford to do plenty of it.

  Several years earlier, she realized her only accomplishment was to become a San Juan tour guide, herding people around to see landmarks. Life had to offer more than that or she would go loony. Her frustration built, at times, to such a frenzy as to render her immobile. Then, out of boredom, she tried her hand at using a computer at an electronics expo. Doing so felt as if a dormant part of her mind exploded into activity.

  “Oh, there's little Starla,” Daphine said as she stared at the small framed photos that hung near the window. Daphine's expression sobered. She looked about to cry and slipped out of the room silently.

  They continued down the hallway to the front entry foyer and vestibule with its traditional black and white flooring squares.

  “You leaving these in?” Daphine saw everything through the eyes of an artist.

  “Replacing them with more of the same. Every mansion I've seen and liked had these entry tiles.”

  The large empty parlor sat to the left on the south side of the house along the driveway and also overlooked the front porch, yard, and levee embankment to the west. They climbed the front staircase. “Careful,” Sara said. “Some of the spindles are missing. The handrail is weak.” Halfway up, a window on the landing provided another view west, and north along the levee to the stand of eucalyptus.

  Daphine snooped around like she were a potential buyer. She walked into each of the three bedrooms and into the only lavatory on the second floor, which didn't have a tub or shower.

  “I'm claiming half of this linen pantry to enlarge this bathroom,” Sara said, measuring back down the hallway several feet. “Got to be able to bathe on this floor too.”

  They came to the bedroom at the back.

  “Victorian homes had bedrooms this large?” Daphine asked.

  “Used to be the servant's room. The Talbots doubled the size by extending over the back porch.”

  “So the renovated bathroom is for the master bedroom quarters,” Daphine said. “The rest of your guests will have to use the downstairs john?”

  “Actually, no. I'm dividing that northwest bedroom and installing a third bath.”

  They climbed the narrow staircase only high enough to push open the attic access so Daphine could peak in. The attic had been cleaned as well, but still looked forlorn. They returned to the first floor via the split staircase into the kitchen with its borrowed table and chairs. The staircase provided access to all four floors, from the basement to the attic access.

  “This house is a maze,” Daphine said. She never stayed still and sometimes turned circles in the room taking in one continual view.

  Sara smiled, amused at her lifelong friend, who was even more delightful to know. The house was much bigger than Sara had hoped for, but the third owners who purchased from the Talbots, decided to unload the tormented hovel instead of refurbishing.

  The smell of fresh coffee filled the air. Clean mugs sat upside-down on a kitchen towel on the old linoleum-covered countertop.

  “Seen any ghosts?” Daphine asked, accepting and sipping. “You seem a little rattled this morning.”

  “I've been visiting Starla.” Sara wasn't sure about revealing her recurring dream.

  “That spooked you?”

  “Not really, I guess.”

  “Your hands were shaking just now. You eat anything this morning?�
�

  “Hey, I'm fine.”

  “I don't hear it in your voice.” If Daphine was anything, she was as persistent as when she was a teenager.

  “Let me show you around the outside,” Sara said, heading for the back doorway with her mug.

  Sara led the way down the concrete steps to the workshop between the house and garage. Streams of sunlight intermittently broke through the clouds from the east. The air was fresh and smelled of rain. “Talbot added this,” she said, pointing to the workshop, which was a little wider than a single-car garage.

  “Strange,” Daphine said, placing her hands around the warm mug. She turned and studied the direction the sun would pass. “Men usually build a workshop to catch the south side sun. Should have been built behind the garage.”

  “The real estate agent said Talbot didn't want to build out into the field,” Sara said. The workshop sat adjacent to the garage side. The roof connected over the back steps and porch off the kitchen and nicely covered the walkway. “The house has a full basement. I might tear this shop down.”

  They walked up the driveway as gravel crunched underfoot. More steps led to the basement entrance underneath the entry where Daphine knocked earlier at the sitting room doorway. Sara opened the lower door. Light filtered in from horizontal windows just above ground level on the opposite side of the building. “No way am I coming down here to do my wash.” The large dingy room smelled musty. “I'm setting up the laundry area inside the back porch.” The basement contained what was left of the built-in tables and workbenches Talbot installed to process his gold and make jewelry.

  “So, seen any ghosts?” Daphine seemed not about to let up.

  Sara closed the door and they headed toward the front yard. “Heard something.”

  Daphine jumped back and nearly spilled her coffee. “Who? When? Some people have both heard and seen the ghost.”

  “I thought I heard,” Sara said, smiling. “I was probably imagining since everyone's prepped me for it.”