The Piper (26 page)

She nodded. Waited for him to finish checking in, then they went to the elevators hand in hand. She led him to her room, motioned him inside. He sat his bag down, looked around and blinked.

‘Where are your things?'

‘I don't have anything. It's all at the house.'

‘We'll go later and get what you need.'

Olivia hugged her arms to her chest. ‘I don't want to go back there.'

‘To the house? I don't understand.'

‘You better sit down, Hugh. I have a lot of things to explain.'

He sat with his hands on his knees and both feet flat on the floor and listened to every word she said, with no comment and no interruption, eyes narrowed like they did when he was thinking. Telling Hugh was a sort of test. He was highly intelligent and annoyingly logical and he had a way of sorting things straight. Slice and dice, they called him at work. Olivia thought that if Hugh looked at her like she was crazy, she might accept that verdict. She wasn't sure she cared.

She was not at all prepared for his reaction.

‘I want to go to the house. If there's a ghost there, let's root it out.'

‘You're humoring me?'

‘I don't believe in ghosts, Olivia. But you seem to right now and something strange is going on. So I say we face it off together and rule it out in your head, then go to the next logical step. Olivia?' He took her hand. ‘It's going to be okay, sweet. Why are you looking at me like that?'

‘Just thinking how . . . how useful you are. So what is it, Hugh? The next logical step?'

He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Hell if I know. But we've got two deaths. Amelia – and God I'm sorry about that, sweet. Your brother. And two disappearances. Your sister, twenty-five years ago. And now—' His voice cracked. ‘Now our baby girl. There's some common denominator here that we're missing. The police are following the conventional route. I say you and I focus on this.'

Hugh stood up and began to pace, just as there was a knock at the door. Olivia and Hugh both froze. They stared at each other, thinking there was news now. Good or bad.

Olivia looked out the peephole. ‘It's McTavish,' she said, opening the door.

He was in the clothes he'd worn the night before. ‘Livie. Nothing yet on Teddy but—'

‘What the hell are
you
doing here?' Hugh said, moving across the room.

‘Looking for your daughter, asshole.'

Hugh blinked. Took a step back. ‘Of course. Sorry. It's just – how did you know where to find us?'

‘Livie didn't tell you they impounded her car? I'm the one who dropped her off. Look, guys, we've had a little thing come up. Maybe a lead, maybe not. Officer Rodriguez was up at the crack of dawn today, canvassing up and down your neighborhood, Livie, and he got a hit on the dog.'

Hugh went up on his toes. ‘Winston? You found Winston?'

‘No, the other one. The German shepherd. Teller told you about the oil stain in the driveway, right? It's not much of a theory, but Rodriguez and I were thinking about something Livie told me last night. That she and Teddy kept seeing this stray dog around their house. And we were thinking if somebody was watching the house, maybe it's not a stray. Maybe it's his dog.'

Hugh folded his arms. ‘What are you saying here? Mr Stranger Danger is watching my wife and my daughter, and he takes his dog along, while he's peeping?'

‘Like I said, it's a theory. Anyway, Rodriguez was doing door to doors, asking about Teddy and Winston, strange cars around the house, and about a stray German shepherd. And early this morning he gets a hit. Seems one of the women in your neighborhood has seen it too.'

‘Who was it? The couple next door?' Olivia said.

‘No, a woman who lives a few streets over. A Patsy Ackerman.'

‘
Patsy Ackerman?
' Olivia said.

Hugh took her arm. ‘You know her?'

‘I know
of
her.'

‘She lists her occupation as artist,' McTavish said, ‘but she's also the local
woo woo
woman.'

‘Woo woo woman?' Hugh said.

McTavish rocked back and forth on his heels. ‘She's a renowned local psychic. She's pretty well known.'

‘Listen to me, McTavish. Charlotte said my brother was working with Patsy Ackerman, right before he died. I know it's early, but can I talk to her? Will you go with me, to see what she has to say?'

‘We can go now if you like.'

‘Oh, this is great,' Hugh said. ‘My little girl disappears, and the only thing anybody comes up with is a mysterious dog, a haunted house, and the local version of one-nine hundred-psychic around the block. Jesus Christ, Olivia, and you say Los Angeles is full of shit.'

‘Just this once, Hugh,' Olivia said, ‘would you not be a total prick?'

‘Fine, Livie. But I'm going too. We can get your suitcases from the house, and stop and say hi to Mr Duncan Lee.'

M
cTavish drove. Olivia winced because Hugh was holding her hand tight enough to hurt.

Patsy Ackerman lived three blocks over from Olivia's place, a ranch style bungalow set back deep into Forest Hills, up a narrow winding street. The house had been built at the end of the nineteen forties – cheap housing for soldiers returning from war. Olivia was well aware that what went for cheap housing then was top of the line now. There would be hardwood floors, a central hearth that ran the length of the living room, heavy plaster walls. Lots of upkeep with the wiring and plumbing.

There was no car in the driveway, but Olivia looked with hope at the tiny garage set in the hill at the bottom of the house. A single door, narrow, windows murky, but there might be a car inside.

They parked on the street, and climbed the walk to the front door. The house was set on a hill, the yard tiered and overgrown with ivy. Heavy shrubbery blocked most of the windows. The back and side yard were encircled with a black iron fence that strained to hold in the hedges and flowers and trees. It gave the house a hideaway effect, like a charmed fortress. As if the person inside might be hiding, or afraid.

‘Let me,' McTavish said, moving ahead. He had to knock three times, the last rather hard, before the door finally opened.

‘Enter the wicked witch,' Hugh said, softly, in Olivia's ear.

But this was no old crone. The woman's face was turned away, so it was hard for Olivia to make out features, but she saw the shine of long blonde hair, and noticed the interested way McTavish cocked his head.

The woman's voice was deep and it carried. ‘I've already talked to you people once today, and I don't know anything else. I saw the dog. End of story. Please leave.'

‘Ma'am, we're talking about a missing child. Her name is Teddy, she's only eight. This is her picture. Look at it, please.'

‘I don't do readings anymore, and you people made me very unwelcome when I tried to help in the past. I get it. I went away. So return the favor and get off my porch.' She was already closing the door when she stopped. Walked back out of the house, shouldering past McTavish, to stand and stare at Hugh.

She was not what Olivia expected. She was not old, but she wasn't young either. Late forties, early fifties maybe, impossible to tell. Her hair was shoulder length and that right shade of blonde that at her age meant expert hairdressing. Her eyes were large and blue, but red rimmed and clouded with the kind of exhaustion that Olivia recognized. The woman was an insomniac, like she used to be.

Tired though she was, her face was strikingly pretty even with the frown and fatigue. She wore a black sweater and jeans, and slouchy high boots with flat heels. In her ears were tiny pearl earrings, just like Olivia's favorite pair.

She put her hands on her hips and glared at Hugh. ‘So here you are.
Dammit
. I don't want to be involved in this.'

‘I don't know you,' Hugh said.

‘No,' said Patsy Ackerman. ‘But I know you. You'd better come in.'

There was something very dominant about this woman, and the three of them went in meekly, like children who suspect they've been bad. They stood awkwardly in the living room, Olivia staring, taking it all in, the marvel of the house.

‘They
said
you were an artist,' Olivia said.

Hugh walked to the fireplace, inspecting the mural over the mantel, the hand painted tile. ‘That's an understatement.'

And it was. Even the wood step that led up to the kitchen was adorned with a hand carved fleur de lis.

‘Call me Ack,' the woman said. ‘And come with me. There's something in my studio that I want you to see.'

The kitchen made Olivia catch her breath, because it was the kitchen she had wanted all her life if only she'd been able to imagine it fully, to put it into thoughts and words. The countertops were some kind of poured concrete, stained a charcoal black, embedded with hand painted tile. The walls were French blue and terra cotta with accents of green and red, and the mural on the wall looked as if you could open the painted stone doorway, that it would lead to another room. The porch off the kitchen had been gathered in, and you stepped down to an indoor terrace of stone floors, plaster walls, and open beams of aged timber on the ceiling. A wood stove had been built into the corner of one wall, and before it was a small table and an espresso maker, and baskets with tomatoes, an eggplant, yellow squash. Cut flowers were piled in the sink.

Another doorway led to the left, and Patsy Ackerman
call me Ack
led them into a room that gave Olivia the feel of an enchanted nook. A leather loveseat, much worn and cracked, was against the far wall of the tiny room, there was a small fireplace, bookshelves with art supplies and books and bits of painted things on the walls. An easel and backless stool were set to the side of a floor length window that looked out to a gazebo in the back.

And pinned to the easel were ink portraits, three or four, with one charcoal drawing in the center, clearly a work in progress. All of them unmistakably Hugh.

‘
Careful, Hugh, you better watch out
.' A squawky voice, coming from the corner near the window. And Olivia noticed for the first time the giant bird, the iridescent green, blue and yellow feathers of a parrot sitting high on a perch.

‘That's Elliot,' Ack said. ‘And you, of course,' she said pointing, ‘have to be Hugh. I've had your face in my mind for three nights straight. Haven't got more than an hour or two of sleep in one go.'

‘
Be careful, Hugh
,' the parrot said, raising a claw.

Hugh cocked his head at the bird. ‘What does he mean by that? How does he know my name?'

Ack settled in the chair in front of her easel. ‘I was hoping you could tell me. He's been chanting it for the last ten days.'

McTavish picked up one of the pictures. ‘Why haven't you drawn a mouth?'

Ack rubbed the back of her neck. ‘It worries me too. That's just how I see him. I don't know.'

‘I would sue you,' Hugh said. ‘If I could figure out what for.'

Olivia looked at the ceiling and sighed. ‘Don't mind him, he's from California.'

‘Yes, my darling, and this is all nice and lovely and creepy, but this woman could have researched you, and found our marriage records, and drawn all this ridiculous stuff.'

‘Spoken like a true narcissist,' Ack said, looking up at him with a mean little smile. ‘And don't forget the part where I taught my parrot to say your name. You came to my house, remember? That
was
you on my front porch?'

‘Ma'am,' McTavish said. ‘You told my officer this morning that you'd seen a stray German shepherd, hanging around Teddy's house? You know which house I'm talking about, right?'

‘The stone cottage with the double chimneys. Yes, I know which one. I've only seen the stray a couple of times.' She looked over at Olivia. ‘I actually thought it was your dog. I couldn't figure out why you kept the golden retriever in and the shepherd out. I got the impression he was some kind of guard dog.'

‘And you saw him day before yesterday? Do you remember what time?'

‘I take a break at lunch time, and go for a walk. So maybe a little before one.'

‘About the time Amelia died,' Olivia said.

McTavish frowned at her. ‘We don't have an official time of death. Were there any cars parked in the driveway, ma'am, do you remember?'

Ack nodded. ‘Yeah, I was thinking it over, after I talked to your guy. There was a Jeep in the driveway, the one that's been there the last few weeks.'

‘My car,' Olivia said.

‘Was that the only one? Was there a car you didn't recognize? Maybe parked on the street, around the corner, just in visual range of the house.'

‘Could have been, but nothing I remember.' She looked over at Olivia. ‘So you live in that house?'

‘Yes, why?'

‘Interesting, that's all.'

‘But it's more than interesting, isn't it? I'm Olivia James, and my brother, Chris, used to live there. Wasn't he talking to you before he died? Didn't he come to you for help?'

Ack looked down at her feet. ‘Yes, he did, but he told me he was keeping our discussion confidential. Which is one of my requirements for my clients.'

‘So he
was
a client?'

Ack shook her head. ‘Look – what do you want me to say? I'm sitting in a room full of strangers who call me the
woo woo
woman.'

‘How did you know that?' Hugh said.

But Ack kept her attention on Olivia. ‘Your brother was in way over his head. But
he
opened that door. Don't make the same mistake, Olivia.'

‘My brother made a bargain and he paid for it. My daughter, Teddy – she didn't do anything wrong.'

‘You sound aggrieved, Olivia. Like somebody broke the rules. Like this thing we're talking about plays fair. And that's the one thing I could never make your brother and his buddy Bennington understand. This thing doesn't play fair. It just plays.'