Part 21 (1/2)
”Talk to you soon, love.”
The endearment rolled over her, making her smile again. Plumping her pillow, she snuggled down under the sheet and went back to sleep.
The alarm went off again at 6:00 a.m. Elizabeth showered and dressed for the day, the ridiculous smile still on her face. It remained there even when she walked through the back door of the office humming some silly tune, and apparently her boss noticed.
”My, you're certainly cheerful today,” Michael said. ”You must have had an exceptionally good weekend.”
She blushed. She couldn't help it.
Michael took in the high color in her cheeks and smiled. ”Never mind. I don't think I want to know.” He poured her a cup of coffee from the pot in the tiny kitchen that served as lunch room and lounge and handed it over.
”What about you?” Elizabeth doctored the brew with cream, then sat down next to him at the tiny kitchen table. ”You and Barbara set a date yet?”
Michael's thick, sandy brows drew slightly together. ”Not yet. I don't see any reason to rush.”
”Neither do I. Especially if you still have any doubts.”
”I don't have any doubts. It's just that marriage is a really big step.”
She thought of Brian and what a disaster that had been, then thought of Zach and tried to imagine him in the role of husband but couldn't make the image appear. ”A very big step,” she agreed, not feeling nearly as chipper as she had when she'd walked through the door. She wasn't quite sure why, since she certainly didn't want to get married again and especially not to Zach.
She spent the morning with clients. There was a gap in her schedule after her first two appointments, which gave her some time before lunch. Grabbing her purse on the way out the door, she headed off to So Cal Edison, the first stop on her list.
”May I help you?” A blond woman wearing an array of heavy imitation gold jewelry and too much makeup sat at the information desk.
”Yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that. My name is Elizabeth Conners. I'm a counselor at the Family Psychology Clinic. I'm helping someone with a research project that involves the history of San Pico, in particular the agricultural history of certain farms in the community. I was hoping you might be able to help me doc.u.ment the chain of residents who may have lived in one of the workers' houses in the compound at Harcourt Farms.”
Clearly impressed with the words research and history, the woman's blond eyebrows drew together. The pencil in her hand tapped briskly on the top of the desk.
”Have you tried city hall? They have all the records of homeowners in the area.”
”Unfortunately, the house is occupied by tenants. The only records would be phone or utility company records.”
”I see.” Turning to the computer screen in front of her, the womanJanet was the name on the plastic tag on her right shoulderbegan to type in letters. ”Do you have an address for the property?”
”It's 20543 Route 51, San Pico.”
The letters on the keyboard clattered. ”I don't know how much this will help. Our service records only go back ten years.”
Elizabeth felt a stab of disappointment.
”Currently, the gas and electric service is listed in the name of a Miguel Santiago.”
”That's right. Can you give me the names of the people who lived in the house before the Santiagos moved in?” Zach had given her the names Mariano Nunez had mentioned. She might as well verify as much as she could.
”I'm not really supposed to do this,” Janet said, but continued to page down on the screen. ”Looks like the Santiagos just moved in a couple of months ago. Before that, it was someone named Rodriquez. There's a gap here a few years back of about ten months. Looks like the house was empty.”
”The house that was there before was torn down and this one built in its place.”
The blond woman nodded. ”That would explain it. I'll print the list back as far as it goes.”
Elizabeth waited as the sheet printed out. Mariano had remembered the tenants in the house back almost thirty years but he didn't remember anyone dying there. She wished the So Cal list went back further.
Elizabeth accepted the printout the woman handed her. ”Thank you very much.”
Scanning the page, she recognized one of the names on Zach's list, Bob Rodgers, apparently not Hispanic like most of the men who worked on the farm. But then neither was the current foreman, Lester Stiles, and a number of other employees. Aside from Rodgers, the only other occupant of the old wood-framed house in the last ten years was named De La Cruz, also mentioned on Zach's list.
Elizabeth folded the paper, thanked the woman again, and headed out the door.
Next stop, Ma Bell.
Unfortunately, she had even less success there than she had at So Cal Ed. Even though they had been cooperative and their list went back a total of fifteen years, no new names showed up. If there was a ghost, it must be someone who had died before Mariano Nunez arrived at the farm thirty years ago.
Elizabeth thought of Maria and how frightened she was, and by the time she got back to the office, her mood was grim.
Having promised to phone Zach with whatever news she had gleaned, she dialed his office number. As before, his secretary put her call straight through.
Zach picked up the phone and started to smile the moment he heard Elizabeth's voice. ”Hi, baby.”
”I hate to bother you, Zach. I know you're busy, but I promised I would call.”
”You're not bothering me. What'd you find out?”
”Nothing. That's why I hated to call.”
”I'm glad you did. I'm up to my a.s.s in alligators here. It's nice to hear a friendly voice.”
”What are we going to do, Zach? I feel so sorry for Maria. I wish I knew how to help her, but this ghost thing is way out of my league.”
”I know what you mean. But as I was driving back this morningtrying not to think how s.e.xy you looked lying there in bedI got an idea.”
”What is it?”
”It occurred to me we haven't tried the obvious. Mariano was fairly certain no one died in the house during the years he's worked on the farmwhich covers about thirty yearsso if there was a death, it probably happened further back in time. San Pico is a pretty small town, even smaller thirty or forty years ago. According to most of the info, ghosts usually result from a violent, or sudden, unexpected death, right?”
”Right.”
”Maybe there's something about it in the newspaper.”
”Zach, you're a genius! Why didn't we think of this sooner?”
”Like you said, ghost-hunting is kind of uncharted territory.”
”I'll go down to the Newspress as soon as I get a chance. I think they keep the old papers on microfiche or something. I'll see what I can dig up.”
Zach laughed. ”Now there's a pun. I'll go online, try to see if I can find something useful. It's a long shot, but you never know.”